Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
maya
The blond wave of Ava’s hair appears in my periphery as I help a customer choose between two thrillers.
It takes a solid ten minutes and at least a dozen questions before she decides to just get both.
After I ring her up and send her on her way, I hunt for Katrina to let her know I’m heading out a little early.
Since she’s always telling me to work less and live more, she claps and does a little jig when I relay the message.
I weave through the store, eventually finding Ava tucked into the oversized green and blue chair in the back corner.
When I started working at the Book Nook, she would take the bus after school and do her homework in this exact spot.
If Blythe thought it was odd that there was a sixth grader doing math problems in the historical fiction section, she never said a word.
As warmth floods me at the memory, I tug on the slicked-back ponytail she’s rocking. “You ready to head out?”
She glances up at me through thick lashes, taking in my hat, gloves, and coat. “Ugh. I did not miss this cold weather.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. My sister hates any weather that forces her to put on a coat and hide her outfit. I pull her out of the seat and link her arm through mine. “C’mon. Tell me all about the interview.”
“They’d be absolute idiots not to hire me.”
Her confidence and self-worth are enviable. “Obviously.”
She launches into a play-by-play of her interview, going through what has to be every detail, including the nail color of the receptionist, the color palette of the room she was interviewed in, and her answer to every single question.
She’s still going by the time we make it to my apartment, and she’s barely given me the space to ask follow-up questions.
Yawning, she sits on the couch and pulls up Netflix on my TV. “I’m exhausted. What time’s Cole coming over? I need to be sedentary for at least an hour.”
“You’re exhausted?” I tease, plopping down beside her. “I’m the one who barely slept last night because someone kept rubbing her freezing cold feet against me.”
“They were only cold because you stole the covers.”
“Elliott has a very comfy pull-out couch,” I remind her with a wide smile. “You could’ve had your own bed there.”
“Yeah, but he’s always at work or studying,” she points out, waving the remote to accentuate her point. “Plus, this way we got to have a sisterly sleepover. You did change your sex sheets before I got here, though, right?”
“Gross.” I shudder. “Can you not refer to my sheets as sex sheets?”
“I mean, they technically are sheets that you have sex in.”
“We are not discussing my sex life.”
In truth, Cole and I spend most of our nights together at his place.
Not only does he have a bigger, comfier bed, but he can’t leave Goose alone overnight.
And while Goose is more than welcome to sleep at my apartment, he spends half the night howling at every unfamiliar sound.
And he despises the violin player. Rightfully so.
Ava pouts, slumping against the cushions. “Oh, c’mon. You can spill at least one dirty deet.”
Ignoring her, I circle back to the original question. “Cole will be here in an hour. He wants to shower after his flight and pick up some stuff for dinner first.”
With a hum, she snuggles into my side like she’s a kid again. “I can’t believe he’s cooking for us. That’s so swoon-worthy.”
“He is very swoony,” I admit with a laugh.
“Swoonier than your book boyfriends?” She waggles her blond brows.
“Way swoonier than my book boyfriends.”
Cole Berrett has turned me into a total fangirl. And I’m not mad about it.
Ava skyrockets off the couch and spins to face me, her cheeks flushed. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. I’ve been so distracted by the interview.”
“Forgot to tell me what?”
“Mom’s coming to dinner tomorrow.”
Though an icy sliver of dread instantly winds its way through me, I force a small smile. Trying to rein in my absolute and utter confusion, I merely mimic her words. “Mom’s coming to dinner tomorrow.”
“Yep. Exciting, right?”
That’s one way to put it.
“Is she in town for something specific? Or just for fun?”
“To see us. Duh. I called her last week to tell her about the interview, and when she found out all three of us would be in Boston at the same time, she said she’d fly in to visit.”
My heart pounds in my ears, making her words muffled. “So you’ve known about this for a week?”
“Oh, um, not exactly.” She shrugs. “She booked her flight this morning because she wasn’t sure if she’d make it back in time.
You can change our dinner reservation since there will be four of us, right?
I told her it wouldn’t be a big deal. And if it is, we can always change restaurants,” she goes on, her words flying from her at a rapid speed.
“How amazing is this? It’s been forever since we’ve all had dinner together. ”
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” I agree. Almost a year, not that I’m counting.
I talk to my mom on the phone now and then, though the conversations are rarely about me.
Mostly, she fills me in on her life. Two weeks ago, she called me to tell me all about her newfound love for “the theatre.” Pronounced “the-ate-er.” Gag.
I barely managed to squeeze in the news that I’m dating someone, and the topic only held her attention for about two minutes.
Ava rambles on about how nice it’ll be when we’re all together while I consider the possible reasons behind my mother’s trip to Boston.
Because I guarantee it has nothing to do with her kids all being here.
We were all here for Thanksgiving, and where was she?
Oh yeah. On a cruise with her boyfriend.
And the time before that? For Elliott’s graduation?
She got food poisoning in St. Croix and missed her flight back.
Food poisoning is code for sleeping through her alarm.
She seems to have forgotten that a lie can’t be used more than twice before it comes under suspicion.
I was planning to wait until Cole got here to open a bottle of wine, but desperate times call for desperate measures. While I pour myself a hefty glass of chardonnay, Ava turns on Grey’s Anatomy.
“I can’t believe you’re choosing to rewatch this when I have so many amazing books you can read.”
“One can never watch Grey’s Anatomy too many times, sister dear,” she singsongs, eyes glued to the screen.
I sigh and take a sip of my wine.
And then another.
Plus a few more.
By the time my boyfriend arrives, the wine’s mildly tempered the dread that’s churning in my stomach at the thought of seeing my mom. Still, when Cole wraps his arms around me in a hug, I bury my face in his chest as if it’ll protect me from the emotional trauma I’m in for tomorrow.
I’ve just closed my eyes and exhaled when Ava coughs loudly, demanding an introduction.
She immediately loves him because not only did he bring Goose, who automatically adds ten points, but he stopped at Goldblatt’s and picked up babka.
Yep. Swoon-worthy isn’t a complimentary enough descriptor for Cole.
Taking a bag from his arm, I shuffle to the kitchen. “Ava, will you help put stuff in the fridge while I wash the vegetables?”
She glances up from the floor, where she’s giving Goose a belly rub. “I could, but it would be rude to leave Goose halfway through his massage.”
“You’re not helping,” Cole says, taking the bag out of my arms.
I immediately try to wrestle it back from him, to no avail. “Of course I am. You’re not cooking dinner by yourself. Don’t be—”
“You take care of everyone, baby,” he argues, his tone soft but resolute. “Let me take care of you for a change. Yeah?”
Exhaling through my nose, I nod. Then I let him guide me toward a kitchen stool. With my elbows resting on the marble island counter, I watch as he gathers the ingredients for pesto pasta. A man taking control like this in the kitchen? It’s hot.
“How was the game?”
He gasps and clutches a hand to his heart. “You didn’t watch?”
“I did,” I admit with heated cheeks. Am I blushing? “But I like when you give me your recaps, along with the inside scoop. Like who’s secretly pissed at who for missing a shot or not being open. It’s cute.”
His eyes hold mine captive as he lifts a brow. “Cute, huh?”
“Very, very cute. Sophie wants to get season tickets. Not that the suite isn’t amazing, because it is, but if we sit center ice, we’ll be closer to the action, you know?
I’d miss the free cheese fries and fancy little canapes—oh, and I’d definitely miss the private bathroom—but it could be fun. What do you think?”
“You’re rambling.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “You do know people who sit on center ice are more likely to get chosen for an intermission game, right?”
My stomach drops. “Never mind, then.”
He drops a quick kiss on my forehead. “You really don’t like attention, huh?”
“I really don’t,” I confirm with a shrug. “I’ve just never felt comfortable in the spotlight. I’m more of a behind-the-scenes kind of girl.”
“You don’t mind my attention, though, right?” He breaks into a crooked grin. “Because it’s not going away anytime soon.”
I give him a shy smile. “I don’t mind it from you.”
“Good.”
He gets back to work, chopping a tomato while regaling me with stories from the game. He’s complaining about the reaction time of one of his defensemen when Ava climbs into the seat next to me and interrupts him. “Before we get any further, what are your intentions with my sister?”
“What kind of question is that?” I sputter, my cheeks heating.
Cole chuckles as he pulls a pan out of a cabinet and sets it on the stove. “I like that question more than your brother point-blank threatening to saw off my balls with skates. And I’d probably be arrested if I repeat what Kennedy said to me.”
He turns to the stove, muttering something about a whisk and rolling pin.