Chapter 45
Ava
I’ve just pulled a T-shirt over my head when the door flies open, and Harrison rushes in.
“Hey,” he says casually.
His face says something closer to alarm.
Then his brow furrows. “You’re dressed.”
“I know you like to take full ownership of dad duty,” I say, smiling as I lean in for a quick kiss, “but I can at least help with breakfast.”
His expression doesn’t change.
“Breakfast,” he repeats slowly.
I squint at him. I’m not entirely convinced this man is functional on one hour of sleep.
His eyes flick to my face, sharper now. “You haven’t checked your phone yet.”
I shake my head. “Casualty of yesterday’s dumpster fire. My phone. My one-of-a-kind sunglasses from Ricardo Ricci.” I lift my hands in defeat. “Basically, the universe is gently suggesting that selfies are the antichrist.”
His features soften.
Then he sweeps me into his arms and presses a kiss to the top of my head. And just when I think my lumberjack couldn’t be more perfect, he says, “We’ll get you a new phone today.”
For a long moment, we just stay like that. No rush. No noise. Just the quiet sway of us standing together.
I melt into his warmth and let the world wait its turn.
Before my thoughts drift somewhere dangerous, toward things I shouldn’t want, I pull back. “What would you like?” I tap his chest. “Migas are my specialty.”
His blue eyes go pale. I may have short-circuited him.
I’m not convinced he knows what I’m talking about, so I explain. “Migas. Scrambled eggs folded with crispy tortilla strips, onions, peppers, a little heat, a lot of comfort. Breakfast.” I smile. “A hug with a kick.”
He says nothing. Just opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
“But if you think the kids would prefer to wait for Gabe…” I add, already pivoting, “though I’m not sure he’ll be here this early. He was entertaining what I can only assume was an attractive contortionist or two—”
“They can’t eat,” he says flatly.
I blink. “What do you mean, they can’t eat? Of course, they can eat. Between Connor and Ollie alone, I might just dump the migas into a trough and call it a day.”
He shakes his head, dragging a hand down his face. “I mean, they can’t eat until we get to where we’re going.” He gestures vaguely, like the explanation is floating just out of reach.
Something in my chest stills. I fold my arms, studying him.
“Oh.” I tilt my head. “You’re leaving?”
The thought lands like an ax. Like he can’t get out of here quickly enough.
Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.
Ugh. What is it with men?
He reaches for me immediately, hands settling on my shoulders. “We’re leaving,” he says carefully.
Right. We. As in them.
I jerk my shoulder back. “I heard you the first time, Harrison.”
“I’m saying this all wrong.” He struggles for words, fingers worrying the silicone ring on his hand.
He still has it on.
I still have mine on, too.
Wake up, Ava. He’s leaving. With the kids.
I’m about to tell him to go. Or to go to hell. Or whatever angry thought hits the tip of my tongue first when—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Harrison blows out a frustrated breath. “One sec,” he says and quickly opens the door.
Connor stands there, grinning, hands waving enthusiastically in my direction.
As much as I can’t stand his father’s face at the moment, I don’t let it show. I pull Connor in and give him a big hug. “Morning, hijo.”
Harrison shoots him a look. “I told you I needed a minute.”
Connor rubs the back of his neck. “I know. It’s just that, um… there are people here.” He winces. “I had to let them in.”
Alarm flashes across Harrison’s face. He’s already moving. “You never have to let strangers in—”
“Uncle Mark said it was okay. See?” Connor whips out his phone.
Harrison snatches it and scrolls through a long string of texts. Which, honestly, tracks. When the kids text me, it’s a marathon of emojis and GIFs with no discernible end in sight.
Harrison peers out into the hallway and exhales sharply. “Mother trucker.”
“What people?” I ask, shoving my hair into a messy ponytail as I lean out after him.
The hallway is a sudden war zone of rolling cases and wardrobe racks. At least a dozen people are rushing around, measuring Oliver and showcasing pretty headbands for Snook.
And… is that fashion icon Ricardo Ricci? “What on earth is going on?” I ask.
Connor beams at me like a loon. “We’re getting glam.”
Harrison rolls his eyes. “Out, Connor.”
He nods, hugs me within an inch of my life, then disappears down the hall.
And suddenly, it’s just him and me, circling back to the stupid conversation about them leaving.
Except now I’m wondering if what he actually meant is that I’m leaving.
Well, I’m not leaving right away.
“I’ll make the kids breakfast,” I say lightly, already backing away, “and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
A big hand closes around my arm. “You can’t go.”
He looks disheveled. Panicked. Or maybe that’s just sleep deprivation cracking his control. I can’t tell.
I blink. “I can’t?”
Is he asking me to stay?
This is the moment where I should let it slide. Smile. Stay easygoing Ava, where nothing bothers me.
But after last night, after the way he still feels etched into me, I’m going to need more than a half-sentence.
I search his eyes. “Why can’t I leave, Harrison?”
I brace myself, absurdly hopeful.
Because you’re the only woman in the world for me, Ava Alvarez. Stay in my life forever.
Okay. Expecting those words out of his mouth might be a bit dramatic, but anything along those lines will do.
Instead, the man on the brink of insanity plants both hands on his hips and snaps out, “Because you’re my wife.”