Chapter 47
Ava
The drive is long.
The kids are being extra careful not to wrinkle their clothes, even as they all battle for space on the seat.
Harrison stares out the window like the city might explain itself if he looks hard enough. I watch as he keeps fiddling with the ring. The one he won’t take off.
Stop it.
“Do you like my dress, Daddy?” Snooki asks, fluffing her skirt. The book bag I made her is still slung over her shoulder, and I’d bet ten bucks there’s a tortilla hiding inside it.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
Connor presses the little button, and the sunroof slides shut, the panel sealing back into place. He’s done this a million times.
“The stars are cool,” he says thoughtfully. “Can we get stars in the ceiling of our car?”
Harrison doesn’t answer, lost deep in thought. I’m pretty sure the kids could ask for his credit card right now, and he’d hand it over without blinking.
Ollie looks around, squinting at the interior. “They should have stars everywhere in here.” I laugh as he tilts his head, studying me. “Do they have stars because you’re a star? Is this what it’ll be like traveling with you?”
My heart squeezes.
I don’t tell them that traveling for work isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. That I’d rather be here with them than one more day on set.
Or that after today, I don’t know how long I’ll be in their lives. No matter how desperately I want to be.
Harrison hasn’t said a word, and the silence feels wrong on him.
So, I make up a story on the spot. “Actually, this car used to belong to an astronaut,” I say solemnly. “He missed space so much, he stole a pocketful of stars and put them here.”
“No way,” Ollie says, eyes wide.
“Isn’t that right, Travis?”
Travis chuckles. “That’s what I heard.” Then he points ahead. “I’ll drop you at the corner.”
He pulls over, and I look up.
Donovan’s
Cakes & Celebration
Travis opens the door, and the kids spill out like they own the place. It’s clear they’ve been here before.
Harrison takes my hand and helps me out.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Mrs. D’s,” he says, admiration clear in his voice. “Her cake shops are famous all over the world. But her celebration venues?” He nods toward the building. “Strictly New York. This one’s a full-scale event space.”
We step closer, and I catch a glimpse through the windows.
Warm light. Christmas everywhere. Garlands and twinkle lights and the low hum of laughter.
It feels less like a business and more like walking into someone’s home.
And it’s not just a bunch of strangers I don't know.
I spot my family in an instant.
My parents.
Mi abuela.
Gabe. Which explains why he didn’t show up this morning.
When I take in the enormous crowd of faces I don’t recognize, I assume those belong to Harrison’s family and his closest friends.
I swallow past the knot tightening in my throat.
This isn’t about optics anymore. We’re not play-acting here.
Harrison Evans is about to introduce me as his wife.
And I’m about to roll with it.
His hand tangles with mine, locking tight. He leans in, voice low. “I know you said you were professional, but if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to.”
Maybe he’s trying to be playful. And I know that shouldn’t sting.
But it does.
“Don’t be silly,” I tell him lightly. “I’m an actress. It’s what I do.”
We barely step inside before the woman from the bakery is on us. His sister. Snooki’s already settled comfortably on her hip.
Harrison starts to make introductions.
“Ava, this is my sister, Hannah. Hannah, this is—”
“I know who she is, Harrison,” she cuts in, laughing. “The entire world knows who she is.”
She pulls me in, Snooki included, into a warm three-way hug. “We’re so happy for the two of you.”
Then Mrs. D. appears, pulling me into the tightest embrace, tears shining in her eyes. “You just met,” she says softly. “I can’t believe it. It all happened so fast.”
Harrison slips an arm around me, easy and sure. “Well,” he says lightly, “you know what they say. When you know, you know.”
For a man who insists he’s not an actor, he’s giving the performance of his life.
It’s a mid-afternoon party that somehow feels as bright as New Year’s Eve. Joyful. Easy. Less show, more genuine laughter.
I’ve met all of his friends, most of whom feel less like friends and more like brothers. My own family has welcomed him with open arms.
Well. Almost all of them.
Gabe’s been oddly distant.
Harrison’s friend, Brian, presses a mimosa into my hand.
“Is it weird,” I ask, glancing around, “that this is all happening over brunch?”
He smiles, easy and knowing. “Mark knew you were leaving soon.”
I frown. “How did he know that?”
“Gabe told him.”
We both glance toward the corner, where my brother stands apart from the crowd, shoulders slumped, his usual smile nowhere to be found.
“Any idea what’s bugging your brother?” Brian asks quietly.
I shake my head. “Not yet. But I’ll find out.”
A beautiful redhead steps up and pulls me into a hug like we’ve known each other forever.
“I’m Jess,” she says warmly. “Mark’s wife.”
She shifts to the side, revealing a shy little girl half-hidden behind her leg, big, curious eyes peeking up at me.
“And this,” Jess adds softly, “is Quinn.”
Quinn peeks out a little more, still cautious.
“She’s been dying to meet Princess Luna,” Jess whispers, like it’s a sacred secret.
I give Quinn a small wave. “I’d love to send you a little book bag,” I say gently. “Would you like that?”
She nods but doesn’t step forward, and I don’t push it. I’ve never believed in plopping a kid on Santa’s lap and snapping a photo while they scream their lungs out.
I’d rather buy her love with a book bag.
Jess gestures across the room, where Harrison and Mark are surrounded by two little boys glued to their sides. “That’s Ryder and Aiden. We try to foster as many kids as we can, especially through the holidays.”
My chest does that soft, aching thing again.
“I’ve worked with foster organizations in LA. for years,” I say. “Give me a little time, but I’d love to make book bags for all of them. Just send me their ages, names, and favorite stories.”
“I saw the bag Snooki’s been carrying around. You made those?” Her smile widens. “I was going to ask where I could get one.”
“I usually fill them with a book or two when I give them to the foster organizations,” I admit. “They’re my happy place.”
Quinn tugs gently at my skirt, closer now. I kneel so we’re eye to eye.
She points to Snooki’s big purple bag, the unicorn stitched on the side. “It’s pretty.”
“It is,” I agree. “What’s your favorite book?”
“Clifford,” she says, all traces of shyness gone.
“The big, red dog.” I nod. “I love Clifford, too.”
And just like that, my mind is already racing. Fabric. Colors. A puppy for the front of the bag.
Connor launches into the robot, and I nearly snort mimosa out of my nose.
It’s so different from the parties I’m usually dragged to. Those feel like work. Like smiling on cue in rooms full of people who don’t really see me.
This one feels free. Real. The kind where my face actually aches from laughing so hard and smiling with my whole heart.
The DJ bounces between Christmas classics and pop hits, and the kids are having the time of their lives.
Then “Gone, Gone, Gone” comes on, and a memory flickers.
Me.
On Harrison’s shoulders.
Laughing like I didn’t know what falling felt like yet.
From the look on his face across the room, he remembers it too.
Our eyes lock. The noise fades.
He crosses the space between us.
“May I have this dance, Mrs. Evans?”
My stomach flips.
“Maybe.” I lift a brow. “What did I say in that text to you that first night?”
He sweeps me in, hands settling at the small of my back, our bodies locking into place.
His breath is warm against my ear.
“You said, and I quote, ‘Lumberjacks bring the wood.’”
I laugh out loud. Like, really laugh. Enough that a few people turn to stare. Mrs. D. presses a hand to her heart.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Harrison shakes his head, that perfect, boyish smile firmly in place.
“Look up.”
I do.
Mistletoe.
On cue, he cups my face and pulls me in. The kiss is slow and careful, a delicate burn that hurts in the quiet way goodbyes always do.
Applause and cheers erupt all around us.
Somewhere between the noise and the lights, the happiness and the warmth, I break my only rule.
I fall for the leading man.