Chapter 19
AVA
“George?” I call out, letting the apartment door shut behind me.
After my conversation with Patricia, the car ride was a blur of conflicting emotions and counting my inhales and exhales over and over again to try and get a handle on all the thoughts circling my brain.
It was one of those drives where I pulled into my assigned parking space in the underground lot, and I couldn’t remember clearly how I got there. I was on autopilot the whole ride home.
“In the dining room,” Georgie calls back.
Hanging my keys up on the hook next to Georgie’s backpack, I slip off my sneakers and set the unassembled packing boxes against the wall before heading into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I know it’s kind of early for dinner, but I was thinking we could order p—”
My words get caught in my throat when I find Georgie isn’t alone.
“Anderson?” He’s dressed in khaki cargo pants and a black crewneck with the Northshore Fire Department’s logo, seated next to Georgie at the dining room table. Her homework is out in front of her as the two turn to look at me.
“Hey, love,” Anderson drawls, a small smile on his face when he sees me.
That stupid pet name is like a reset button to my brain, immediately making me forget everything I’ve had on my mind since leaving my mom’s house.
“Did you get all your errands done?” he asks with his kind eyes and lazy smirk, looking at me like he actually wants to know.
He must know that “errands” are what I told Georgie I was doing, and I’m thankful he goes along with my cover story—again.
I left her stuff in my car since we’re moving into Anderson’s the day after tomorrow. It seemed silly to haul it up here just to pack it all up and bring it to his house on Sunday.
But I hate the thought that we’ll be packing it up and moving it all over again in just a few months—now with my mom wanting to give up her parental rights, the adoption is going to move much quicker than I initially thought, more so with Patricia being so on board with my ability to be a long-term, stable, permanent guardian.
Who’s about to enter a happy, committed, loving marriage.
Too bad it’s all for show.
“Yeah, we’re all good,” I offer, the answer enough for Georgie, who goes back to her homework. Anderson, on the other hand, lifts a brow, as if he doesn’t take that as enough of an answer, as if he’s asking me if I’m good.
I let my eyes fall closed for a moment, giving him a nod that I hope conveys I’m good—or at least as good as I can be right now.
When I open my eyes, I watch Anderson stand up, closing the distance between us. I’m immediately overwhelmed by the warmth he radiates. He stops just a foot away from me, but it’s like I can still feel the heat from his skin, even through the layers of our clothing.
His brown hair looks more styled than usual, like he hasn’t been running his hands through it.
His caramel eyes are filled with concern, and something I still can’t put my finger on.
It’s like he’s watching me with a sense of longing, which can’t be right, but it still causes a flutter in my stomach.
He closes his hands into fists, and for a moment, I think he might reach for me.
And I think I might let him.
Something about the weight of today has me feeling like my limbs are heavier than usual, like it’s taking an immense amount of work just to stay standing.
It’s only just past four o’clock in the afternoon, but I feel like I could fall asleep for the rest of the night—maybe even sleep through all of tomorrow.
There’s an exhaustion that’s been settling over me this last week, one I’ve never felt before. And coming home, after such an emotional day, falling into Anderson’s arms, sounds like heaven.
But then he pockets his hands, and it’s like a bucket of cold water over my head.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
Anderson runs a hand through his hair, messing it up a bit, and it looks so much better that way. “I didn’t want to leave Georgie here alone, so we’ve just been hanging out, getting to know each other.”
“Well,” I say, clapping my hands together, walking past Anderson and sitting down in the chair he just got up from. “I’m home now. Thanks again for getting Georgie from school,” I say, hating the dismissal in my voice but knowing it has to be this way.
I will forever be in debt to Anderson for agreeing to marry me, all to help with Georgie’s adoption, but that doesn’t mean we can blur the lines between us.
Calling him for a favor, to pick up Georgie, cannot be a regular thing. The same way that I can’t get used to coming home to him after such a long day.
Because he won’t always be there.
“No worries. I was happy to do it,” Anderson says, his weight shifting back and forth from one foot to the other. “Georgie and I were able to get to know each other a little more.”
Georgie looks up from her homework and nods.
“Anderson said I get to pick out my bedroom color at his house.” She says it like it’s no big deal, but I can hear the way she tries to hide her excitement about it, the way teenagers do.
“As long as I help him paint,” she adds, a small smile on her face as her gaze goes back to her math homework.
“Really?” I say, turning to Anderson, lifting a brow.
Anderson grins as he runs a hand through his hair again. “Really,” he replies before coughing into his fist. “Anyway, I, uh, better go.” He juts his thumb toward the door behind him.
“Yeah,” I say, but the atmosphere grows awkward. “Thanks again.”
“Wait,” Georgie says, turning to Anderson. “I thought you were going to stay and help us pack.”
Anderson’s eyes dart to me, a look of uncertainty crossing his face. “I don’t want to overstep, but yeah, I’m happy to help. I can bring some stuff over to my place tonight, too.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay.” I wave my hands. “We don’t have too much to pack.”
“Maybe he can just stay and hang out?” Georgie offers, and it has me regretting both drawing the line and pulling her into this mess.
While I want her to feel comfortable with Anderson, especially since the three of us will be living under the same roof starting in less than forty-eight hours, I don’t want him to be another person who gets yanked out of her life without a moment’s notice.
Anderson must see my inner turmoil, even though I try to hide it from my features, because he helps me out. “We’ll have tons of time to hang out.” He gives Georgie that easy smile. “Okay, G?”
“Okay,” she says, drawing out the word, but I can see the ghost of a smile on her lips.
“I’m going to finish my homework on the couch,” she says before gathering her binder and pencil case.
“See you tomorrow? At dinner?” she asks Anderson as she passes him, and it has my heart unsure of what to do—skip a beat or crack in two.
“You got it.” He gives her a wink, and I have to resist the urge to clutch my chest. The two of them getting along and growing their own relationship has my chest feeling tight.
His gaze comes back to me, and he looks at me like he always does—like he wants to say more but doesn’t know if it’s okay. There’s too much in his eyes for me to decipher, the intensity of them forcing me to look away.
“See you tomorrow.” I echo Georgie’s words to him, standing up and pushing in Georgie’s chair before pushing in mine, making sure the two are perfectly spaced out around the dining table.
“Ava?” Anderson says, and I turn around to find his eyes still on me. “How did it go?” he whispers.
I shake my head, my eyes darting to Georgie.
Anderson nods, and I can’t help but notice how he looks almost defeated, like he knew asking me was a losing battle. He turns to head toward the door. I follow him, watching as he steps into his work boots.
“My mom wants to sign away her parental rights.” I don’t know why I say it.
Maybe because, even with this line between Anderson and me, we need to be a team right now—appear as a united front.
But the words wind me, like I’ve just been hit in the stomach.
It should be painful, but it’s more cathartic than anything else, like sharing the burden, it lessens the load on my shoulders.
Anderson stiffens, and I hear his jaw click with how tightly his teeth clench together. “What? Are you fucking kidding me?”
I’ve known Anderson for almost nine months now, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him angry.
He’s such a laidback guy with an easygoing, calm demeanor.
Always laughing along when Emerson gives him a hard time or when Jack gets all annoyed with him—even though we all know it’s just an act.
He’s always so patient with Evee and so kind with Rumi.
But anger like this? I didn’t even know he was capable of it.
And seeing it, on behalf of Georgie… I can’t even let myself finish the thought.
“I’m sorry, I know she’s your mom,” he goes on to say, I think because he takes my silence for something it isn’t. He’s trying to keep his voice quiet, but it rises slightly. “But Georgie deserves better than that.”
“Shh.” I hold my finger to my lip before pointing toward the living room. We’re hidden from Georgie in the entryway, but I don’t want her to overhear. “Trust me, I’m pissed too, but it just proves that this adoption is the right thing to do.”
Anderson nods, some tension lifting from his posture. “What did Patricia say?”
“She’s actually the one who told me. Once my mom signs the papers, all we have to do is get married, and Patricia is going to recommend approval for kinship adoption.”
“Damn.” Anderson shakes his head. “I didn’t expect it to be so—” he pauses, trying to think of the right word. “Not easy, but so smooth, I guess. I don’t know the right word.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I didn’t think the transition from the investigation to an actual adoption would happen so fast.”
Anderson nods. “Did she say anything else?”
“Just some other updates about my mom, who I didn’t even talk to.”
“Good.”
I raise a brow. “Good?”
“Yes, good. I know I don’t know the whole story, and it’s not really my place—”
“You’re right,” I cut him off. “It’s not.” I can’t fight the defensiveness taking over, even though a small part of me likes the thought of someone protecting me for a change.
“I just,” he pauses as his hand goes to the back of his neck, rubbing the skin. “I just don’t love the thought of you or Georgie being near her, not after everything she’s put you two through.”
I cross my arms over my chest, surprised by how good it feels to have someone watching out for me, even though it’s unnecessary. “I didn’t take you for the type to get all caveman-possessive at the drop of a hat, sunshine.”
“You know I hate that nickname,” he warns, but the small smirk gives him away. He takes another step closer to me, but his proximity doesn’t intimidate me—it makes me want to see how far I can push him.
I remember him and Jack talking one time about how much Anderson hated when the guys at work called him “sunshine”, and it’s something I’ve kept in the back of my mind, knowing it might come in handy.
“And you know that this,” I gesture between the two of us, “is just for show.”
“Never said it wasn’t.”
I let out a dry chuckle, but it dies quickly. “So, while I appreciate your concern,” I remind him—and myself—that we can’t risk blurring more lines than we already have. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”
I expect his cheeks to heat, to see him blush in that addicting way he does.
Instead, he takes a step toward me, his caramel eyes almost black in the low light of the entryway. His face is just inches from mine, and it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room.
I can’t help the way my eyes drop to his lips, just for a breath.
“Baby, you and I both know there’s nothing fake about how well I know how to take care of you.”
My lips part, and I’m left speechless, unable to remember how to string words together as my mind floods with all the times Anderson has taken care of me over these last eight months. And, by the way he’s looking at me, he knows exactly where my mind has gone.
He leans in a little closer, so close that I can feel his breath against my lips.
His tongue slides against his bottom lip, and my eyes track the movement, my body begging to be closer to his—to feel his hands tighten around me, his body pressed against mine. His whispered, heated words of encouragement in my ears.
I look at his lips as if I’m trying to commit them to memory.
As if I don’t already know the exact shape of them, the way they feel against mine, the softness of them against my skin.
All it would take is the lift of my chin, and I’d feel them against mine.
“You guys don’t have to go hide by the door and whisper!” Georgie yells from the living room, “I know you’re kissing goodbye!”
And damn, am I fucked.
Because I fucking wish.