Chapter 7
Bad News for People Who Love Good News
The Joneses’ house has always been my safe haven. Tucked on a tree-lined street in Hoboken, it’s the kind of home that feels lived in without ever looking messy, polished without ever feeling cold. It’s where Jared grew up, where Patricia—who now styles flowers for Marisol and Pulse photo shoots—perfected her talent for turning any table into a still life. In the foyer, loose flowers spill out of a vase as if they grew there overnight, sunlight slants across polished wood, the faint smell of coffee and citrus permeates the air.
I’ve spent more holidays here than even my own family’s house. And, I can already feel the ache of missing it.
Patricia pulls me in for a hug, firm and fragrant. “You look too thin. Are you eating?”
“Enough,” I lie.
She pulls back, looking me up and down like she’s trying to scan me for damage. “I heard Valerie’s at her wits’ end without you, by the way. Two writers ghosted her, one’s threatening to move their column exclusively to Substack, and no one seems to understand how to meet a deadline without you standing over them with caffeine and consequence.”
“Sounds about right.”
“She now knows you’re irreplaceable,” she says, ushering me inside like she always does, like I still belong here.
The plan was simple: Jared and I would tell the family—together—at our first Sunday brunch of the month that we are breaking up. But Jared’s flight from London is delayed, and “together” hasn’t really been our strong suit lately.
So now it’s just me, Gavin, Cari, Max, Liam, and Patricia, around the dining table with Mimosas, Eggs Benedict, and a centerpiece that is spectacularly Patricia.
“Jared’s missing his favorite meal,” Liam says.
“Speaking of Jared, I have something I need to tell you.” I can barely look them in the eyes. “I’m not sure where to start. Jared and I planned to make this announcement together, but I can’t hold it in any longer.”
Gavin freezes mid-spoonful, brow furrowed. Cari jumps out of her seat and throws her arms around me.
“Oh-my-God! You’re finally getting married! It’s official: I have a sister!”
“Cari, I don’t think she can breathe,” Gavin warns. Cari steps back, practically giddy.
His voice is low, steady, the kind that cuts through chaos without needing to rise. For a second, I feel the strange comfort of it. He’s not looking at me like I’m fragile, more like he’s bracing the room for me. And it’s ridiculous, but the steadiness in him makes something flicker in my chest before I look away.
Patricia is grinning ear to ear. “Oh, I can’t tell you how happy this makes me, Ava.”
Liam raises his glass. “To our Ava—we can actually say that now—and, of course, to Jared, my very fortunate son.”
Gavin is staring at me with a What is going on? look, and I give him a shake of my head. Everyone is waiting for me to say something. Like maybe a ‘thank you’ for the sweet toast by Liam.
“I can’t wait to hear about the proposal.” Cari claps her hands together. “Every single romantic detail. But first …” She picks up my hand, then looks confused. “Where’s the ring?” My hand drops as she releases it. So does my stomach.
“Why don’t we let Ava finish what she was saying?” Gavin says.
I take a big gulp of wine. The damn lump is still there, but I can feel it about to break loose. Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I take a deep breath and …
“Jared and I are breaking up.”
I recognize that look on their faces. They look like they’ve been punched in the gut. Patricia literally drops her fork onto her plate with a clang. Cari looks like she is going to cry, poor Max’s eyes are wide, and Liam’s brow is deeply furrowed.
“Are you sure?” Patricia asks quietly.
I’m silent but aware that a single tear escapes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gavin fidgeting. He looks pissed.
“I don’t understand,” Liam whispers.
“But you two get along so well,” Cari says.
I wipe a tear from my cheek. “Honestly, I’m a little confused myself. It was initiated by something going on with Jared, but it’s a mutual decision.”
I pause to catch my breath.
“In case you’re thinking it, he did not have an affair or anything like that. It’s all a little complicated. I wish I could tell you more, but it’s really up to Jared to tell you. You have all meant so much to me over the last eight years. You’ve really been the family I never had, and I …” The lump has escaped. There is no stopping the dam from bursting now. Tears spill from my eyes, and Patricia and Cari jump to my side to put their arms around me.
“This doesn’t make any sense, Ava. You’re the love of his life,” Patricia says.
“Someone needs to talk some sense into him,” adds Cari. “How long have you two been having trouble, Ava?”
Things would have been a lot easier if we weren’t getting along. Like those couples you know that cheat on each other and bicker in front of their friends and family. As if they want someone to enact an intervention right there on the spot in the middle of whatever get-together. Instead, everyone resorts to whispering behind their backs: “God, why don’t they just break up?” When “those” couples end a relationship, it makes perfect sense; the universe is put in order.
I can’t answer Cari because I’ve officially crossed into hiccuping. Shoulder-heaving. DEFCON-1-level sobs.
“It has nothing to do with Ava,” says Gavin.
We all turn.
“Jared’s gay,” he adds.
The room stills. My hiccups cease. Gavin drops his napkin, leaves the table, and then walks out of the house.
And just like that, my last meal with the Joneses is over.