Chapter 34
AVA
“If everything goes to plan, the adoption should be finalized in as soon as thirty days,” Patricia explains over the phone, and I find myself at a loss for words.
When I emailed her a copy of mine and Anderson’s marriage certificate last night, I didn’t expect everything to move so quickly.
I knew it could, but I thought we’d have more time.
“Wow,” I say on an exhale, not sure what else to say.
I’m in my office at Hey Honey’s, in the middle of scheduling a few interviews for this week, when I get the call from Patricia, and my mind is all over the place—partly on this conversation, partly on the draft of next month’s schedule on my desk, partly on how many times I tap my heel against the foot of my office chair.
It’s our first day back from Vegas, and after Rumi dropped Georgie off at the house this morning—she was already asleep over there when we got back, and I didn’t want to wake her up—I headed straight here to put out fire after fire.
I need two new baristas within the next week if Emerson, Rumi, and I want any days off for the foreseeable future.
Shaking my head as if to reset my brain, I ask Patricia, “What else do you need from me?”
“Now that we have your and Anderson’s marriage certificate, the kinship adoption is officially recommended.
We’ll be finalizing some background checks and safety screenings, and then we’ll have the final court hearing, most likely at the end of April.
” When I don’t say anything—my thoughts racing too quickly for me to even figure out which one to voice—she adds, “This is good news, Ava.” Her voice is kind and steady, just like it’s always been, and it grounds me for a moment.
“Congratulations. You have a lot to celebrate.” I can hear the smile in her voice, the same one she had when she congratulated me on my marriage before she gave me the news that the adoption was on its way to being finalized.
I fill my lungs with air, despite how shaky it feels to inhale. I close my eyes, focusing on the way my chest lifts and then falls as I breathe out. “Thank you, Patricia. For everything.”
“You’re welcome, dear. I’m just happy things worked out the way they did.”
I hesitate, wanting to ask, but not sure if I want to know the answer. “Have you heard anything more from my mom?”
Patricia sighs loud enough for me to hear over the phone. “Unfortunately, no. Not since she signed the parental rights paperwork. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I figured,” I reply, caught off-guard by how disappointed I am. After this long, I thought my mom couldn’t disappoint me anymore.
After we finish the call, I get back to figuring out the schedule for the next six weeks.
The Hey Honey’s owners, Luke and Annie, are in the process of opening another location, so they aren’t available for the few shifts they usually pick up when we’re low on staff, so I might have to take up some of their friends on their offers to fill in.
I don’t always like asking for their help, especially since I want to get things under control with a larger long-term staff—it’s my job as the manager, the one Luke trusts me to do—but I’ve been trying to make next month's schedule all morning, and I just don’t have enough people.
The owner of the building we rent, Emmett, runs the bar next door. His wife, Drew, as well as our graphic designer, Mia, help out both here and at Lenny’s once in a while, always reminding me when they stop in to give them a call if I need any help.
I don’t want to, but I might not have a choice.
Because I’m fucking exhausted.
This last weekend was a dream, one I keep wishing I didn’t have to wake up from, but that’s all it was. All it can be.
It was an apparition of what could’ve been, maybe in another life—one where my marriage wasn’t just paperwork, that kissing Anderson wasn’t just a mistake, that our whole relationship wasn’t just pretend.
Today has been a reminder of why it was nothing more than an alternate reality.
Real life is stressful and exhausting, and it all falls on me.
And me alone.
Especially now, not only with the adoption becoming more of a reality, so real that I feel the heaviness of it settling on my chest, but with the divorce that will inevitably follow.
Along with the positive pregnancy test hidden in my nightstand drawer back at home.
Home.
It’s not my home.
It’s Anderson’s.
Right now, me and Georgie and this bundle of cells in my uterus don’t have a home.
Not a real one.