Chapter Eight
Ava
I'm so nervous that I'm shaking when I knock on my mom's front door a little after noon. But I plant my feet, refusing to turn and flee back to the safety of my car. I have to do this. I need to do this.
I see her face light up through the glass pane before she flings the door open for me, dressed like she's on her way out.
"Ava, sweetheart!" she cries softly. "How are you feeling?"
"Um, better. Are you…were you going somewhere?"
"Nope." She smiles, looping her arm through mine. "I just got home from running errands. We needed a few things for the cruise."
"Oh." I step into the house, clocking their luggage at the bottom of the staircase. There's an entire mountain of it. "You're taking all of that?"
She laughs, her gaze running over the bags. "You know I like to be prepared."
"Clearly." I fidget nervously. "Can we talk?"
She turns back to me, something in her gaze that I can't quite read. "Is this about you and Dawson?"
My mind goes blank. Every thought in it just…flees.
When I was little and did something wrong, I used to run and hide in my pile of stuffed animals. I guess, in my mind, I thought if she couldn't find me, she couldn't be upset with me. Part of me wants to do that again right now. Just run and hide so she can't be disappointed.
"What?" I squeak instead.
"Oh, don't give me that," she says, her lips pursed. "I'm not blind, you know. I see the way the two of you look at each other. I've seen it since you met."
Crap. She knows.
"Mom, I…"
"But Dennis told me to let the two of you figure it out," she says, striding toward the living room."
"Dennis knows?" I hurry after her, my mind spinning.
"Of course he knows," she says over her shoulder.
"Honestly, Ava, you look at the man like he hung the moon, and he looks at you the same way.
I think you two are the only two who haven't figured it out.
Well…" She laughs. "Maybe not. I wondered last night if the two of you were finally ready to admit it to yourselves. You were both acting odd."
Hell will literally freeze over before I tell my mother that he had his hand between my thighs at dinner.
"I'm in love with him," I whisper, the most significant words I've ever said.
She stops, turning back to me, her expression soft. "And that terrifies you, doesn't it?"
I nod, my eyes blurry with tears. "I don't want to fuck up your relationship with Dennis," I whisper, my throat raw. "I don't want to be the reason you end up alone."
"Sweetheart." Her face falls as she hurries across the living room to me, cupping my cheeks between her palms. "That will never happen, do you hear me?
What have I always told you? Love is a celebration, no matter how it comes.
I don't care if you love Dawson, or a woman, or five different people.
So long as you're happy and taken care of, I'm happy, Ava. "
"But…"
"There are no buts," she says firmly.
"There are," I protest. "You and Dennis are married. That makes Dawson my stepbrother."
"Is that what you're so worried about?" Her lips twitch. "You know, in most states, actual cousins can still get legally married."
"Seriously?"
"Fifty years ago, your grandmother and her brother married siblings. No one was scandalized by that. If they're scandalized by you marrying someone you met a year ago, that sounds like a personal problem to me."
"Grandma and Uncle John weren't famous," I mutter.
"Being famous doesn't mean Dawson owes anyone more than anyone else, Ava," she says, disapproval heavy in her tone. "He's allowed to live his life the same as anyone else."
"I didn't mean it like that. I just mean…people are quicker to judge because they know his name." I glance down at my feet. "I don't want everyone turning against him because of me."
"If you think they could, you don't know yourself very well."
I jump at the sound of Dennis's voice. He's standing in the doorway, watching my mom and me with a tiny smile on his face.
"Um, hi," I whisper. "I guess you heard."
"I heard, and I have no objections," he says. "If you and Dawson are happy together, be happy, Ava. That's all anyone can ask of either of you. And anyone who knows you knows damn well that you're the best thing to ever happen to that boy."
My throat grows tight, my heart in a vise. "Thank you," I whisper.
He strides toward me, pulling me into a hug. "You just love him, and let him worry about the rest, okay?" he murmurs into my hair. "That's all you need to worry about."
I cling to him for a moment, intensely grateful that my mom has him. That I have him. He'll never replace my dad, but it's so damn nice to have someone looking out for me the way my dad would have if he were still here.
I feel the weight dropping from my shoulders, all the little knots of unease unraveling in my stomach. I expected a disaster. This isn't that. This is so much better than that.
"He's right," Mom says. "All you need to do is let Dawson love you. The details will work themselves out. They always do, dear."
I hope she's right, but even if she isn't, I think it'll be okay.
So long as she and Dennis are in our corner, I can live with what the rest of the world has to say.
They were never important. It was always the people in this room—and Dawson—who mattered most. If they're okay with the two of us together, then I can face whatever dragons still wait.
For a future with Dawson, I'll face just about anything.