23. Ava
Ava
It was as if my mind had conjured him.
He stood in my parents’ foyer, his hair perfectly tussled, amber eyes locked on mine. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tight. He looked nervous. He looked like he had something to say.
But he didn’t.
My heart leapt before I could stop it. Desperate and hopeful. Maybe he was here for me. Maybe—just maybe—it was finally my turn.
But it wasn’t.
Cohen was here for Ellie. Because of course he was.
The realization burned hotter than it should have. Heat climbed up my neck and settled in my cheeks. I forced my face into something neutral and turned toward the living room before anyone could see it—the embarrassment, the disappointment.
I felt so unbelievably stupid.
Once we stepped inside, the noise dipped for a split second as everyone registered the unexpected arrival.
With Ellie balanced against one hip, Cohen lifted his free hand in a wave. “Hey, everyone. Happy Thanksgiving.”
My mom was on him instantly, pulling him into a hug. “Cohen! What a wonderful surprise!”
He laughed softly, flashing that easy smile that always disarmed everyone, and made his way around the room to greet the rest of the family.
And there were a lot of them.
The entire James clan. The Kings. Dean’s family. Laughter bouncing off the walls. Plates clinking in the kitchen. The guys all arguing about football.
Cohen fit right in. Because of course he did.
And I stood there, watching him hold our daughter, watching him be welcomed like he was always supposed to be here. And trying to swallow the quiet ache that reminded me—He’d chosen to be here. Just not for me.
I stood there watching him hold our daughter. Watching my father clap him on the back. Watching my brothers treat him like one of their own.
And this was all for our daughter.
It wasn’t for me.
We were all seated around my parents' large farm table, enjoying my mom's incredible pie, when Walker began to lightly chime his fork against his beer bottle as he stood.
Everyone paused their respective conversations and gave him their full attention. Walker glanced down at Farrah with pure adoration. "We finally decided on a name for the next Aviator's Hall of Fame pitcher—" he started.
Farrah rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. Several snorts and groans echoed around the table.
Walker narrowed his eyes at a few of us before clearing his throat. "We decided on Jordan West James.”
Cohen choked on his water. Weston cocked his head to the side and failed miserably at hiding his smile.
Cohen pushed to stand and pulled Walker into a hug. When they pulled apart, he squeezed Walker's shoulders. "That means a lot, man. Wow." I could hear the slight break in his voice.
Walker smiled. "You're part of my family. You're my best friend and the best dad I know."
Weston stood and pulled my other brother into a hug. "Thanks, brother."
"I wouldn't have this—" he gestured toward Farrah. "If it wasn't for you."
Weston's eyes shone, only for a brief moment, before he quickly swallowed down the emotion as he nodded.
"Hey! I was the one who yelled at you to talk to her!" Addison huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Ellie's middle name is your name, you drama queen." He turned his attention back to Weston. "Plus, I also thought it would be nice to not have the West name go to waste and have another professional athlete in the family."
Without hesitation, Weston punched Walker square in the arm, causing the table to erupt in laughter.
I sat back, gently bouncing Ellie in my lap, watching as Cohen became even further embedded in my family.
My mind flashed into the future—was this how it would always be? Him here. At this table. In every holiday photo. Part of the family.
Just never mine.
I suddenly felt sick. The pie sat heavy in my stomach at the thought of Cohen always being in my life, always right there. But there for Ellie and for Walker. Not me.
Weston came up behind my chair and placed both of his large hands on my shoulders. I glanced up at him with a soft smile.
"Let me take Ellie, go grab yourself some more wine," he winked. But he knew. He saw it written all over my face—the uncertainty, the sadness. Weston could always read me.
I nodded and handed Ellie to him as I made my way into the kitchen. I grabbed one of my dad's red blends and poured myself a hefty glass.
I felt him before I saw him.
Cohen came up behind me and softly placed his hand low on my back as he leaned in front of me to grab a bottle of wine. When he removed his hand, I instantly missed the warmth of the contact.
As he poured wine into his glass, he glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "You having a good time, Trouble?"
I forced a smile. "Yeah. It's been nice to have everyone under one roof; we don't get to do it very often anymore."
He took a sip from his glass as he settled his back against the counter. "Thanks for letting me crash. It's nice being around your family." He glanced down at his boots. "I haven't had that in a long time," he said quietly.
"Well, my family loves you, so you are obviously always welcome here." The sentiment felt strained.
His eyes locked on mine, causing my breath to hitch at the intensity of his stare. He reached out and ran his hand down my arm until my hand was in his. He squeezed gently, dropping his gaze to our hands. "It means a lot."
The words hung between us like he wanted to say more.
But he didn't.
Ignoring how good his hand felt in mine, I pulled mine away and busied myself with putting away some of the dishes. Turning my back to him, needing the space.
He straightened and came up behind me, closing the distance between us again.
He played with the ends of my hair, letting them sift through his fingers softly.
I didn't know why he kept touching me, but a pathetic part of me also didn't want to ask him to stop. He’d been finding excuses to be near me all night.
Small touches. Lingering looks. Like he was trying to close a distance neither of us had named.
Cohen leaned down so his mouth brushed against my ear. "You look beautiful tonight, Ava." His breath against my skin sent a tremor through me.
The wine was flowing. His hand was warm. His voice was low. This was how it always started. The heat, the chemistry between us… and nothing else.
He just wanted to fuck. I was sure of it.
I spun around and pushed past him to put some glasses away in the cabinet. "Thanks," I replied tightly.
He followed me across the kitchen. "You've been quiet tonight. I feel like I haven't really gotten to talk to you," he pressed.
Eyes focused on the dishes in front of me, I pressed my lips together and nodded as I continued to clean up the kitchen, desperate to keep myself busy so he couldn't see the hurt that still lingered behind my eyes.
Did he hit his head? Had he forgotten everything that had transpired between us over the last few months?
"Just tired." I grabbed a dish towel and began wiping down the counter. Tonight was not the night to hash everything out. "Why don't you go enjoy yourself, check on Ellie? I'll be in there in a minute."
Something shifted in his expression—disappointment, maybe? Or hurt. I couldn’t tell. And I didn’t let myself look long enough to find out. He lingered a moment. The silence was thick with something I couldn't name.
With a tight nod, he turned and headed out of the kitchen.
I sank back against the counter, pressing my palms into the cool granite.
I could finally breathe. Distance was safer. If he wasn’t here for me, I couldn’t let myself pretend he was.
Ellie was exhausted and a bit overstimulated from the day, and to be frank, so was I.
I stood up with Ellie settled against my chest. I glanced over at Cohen, who was already looking at me. "I'm going to put her down for the night."
"I'll help." He stood up immediately and followed me out of the room.
We moved effortlessly through her nighttime routine together. No words spoken, each move anticipated, memorized. The familiarity both comforting and devastating at the same time. After dropping a kiss to her forehead, we slipped out of the room quietly.
Walker was waiting at the base of the stairs. "Hey Coh, you can crash at my place tonight." He threw a thumb over his shoulder. "Dean's parents are staying here tonight so my parents can show them around the vineyard tomorrow."
Cohen's eyes flicked to mine. There was a question there.
An opening? An invitation? Or maybe I imagined it.
"You boys have fun," I rushed out, breaking the silence. I looked up the stairs. "I'm going to call it an early night, I've got a headache coming on," I lied.
His brows pulled together. The concern, instinctive and immediate.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” I forced a smile. “I think it’s just my allergies.”
Walker clapped him on the shoulder. “Ready?”
Cohen hesitated, and for half a second, I thought he might say something.
Instead, he nodded at Walker. "Yeah."
The air between us felt heavy, suffocating. I needed to escape. I turned before I could change my mind. Before I asked him to stay. "Goodnight y'all." When I made it to the top of the stairs, I couldn't help but sneak a peek back down. I told myself not to, but I did it anyway.
Was I hoping he was still standing there?
Yes.
Was he?
No.
It was early December, and the city of Austin was draped in twinkling lights, lush garland, and oversized red bows. Christmas music spilled out of storefronts. The air felt crisp in that rare Texas way—cool enough to justify a sweater, but not cold enough to be miserable.
I loved Christmas. I always had. I was especially excited to experience it as Ellie’s mom. To build traditions. To give her the kind of magic my parents gave me and I’d grown up loving. I couldn't wait to celebrate her first Christmas in Primrose Hill.
Aria was in the city for the night, and we decided to meet at our favorite wine bar — quiet, low-key, warm lighting, and good vibes. The kind of place where conversations weren't interrupted by loud noise or chaos.
Ellie was with Cohen tonight, and I was grateful for the break. After the club fiasco and Thanksgiving, our relationship had continued to shift. Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just... subtly. We'd settled firmly back into the polite, cordial lane.
And I hated it.
I missed him. I missed our friendship, but I just didn’t know how to get it back, how to fix it.
Aria and I found two dark maroon velvet wingback chairs tucked near the back corner. A small piano sat near the front windows, someone playing a slow, familiar Christmas melody that hummed through the space like background comfort.
Aria glanced at me, twisting the stem of her wineglass between her fingertips. “Cohen showing up to Thanksgiving sure was a surprise.”
“He just wanted to see Ellie,” I countered, my tone short.
Aria didn’t react immediately. She just took a slow sip of her wine, letting the piano fill the silence. She had always been good at that—letting quiet do the heavy lifting.
“You sure about that?” she finally asked gently.
I huffed out a humorless laugh. “He literally told me that, A. Plus, you saw him with that girl at the club. He was all over her and left with her.” Even saying it out loud made my stomach churn all over again.
Aria set her glass down carefully on the table between us. “First off… Drake and I were talking the other day, and he said Cohen didn’t go home with her.”
I blinked. “What?”
“He said Cohen was trying to get her off of him before you even walked in. And when he saw you with Hudson? His ego was bruised. He reacted.”
I stared down at my wine.
She continued. “He’s scared, Ava. It’s so obvious it hurts to watch.” She leaned forward slightly. “He doesn’t do this sort of thing. He doesn’t chase or get territorial. He doesn’t spiral. This is clearly uncharted territory for him.”
I swallowed.
Aria softened. “Let me ask you something. If he'd told you he showed up to Thanksgiving for you… would anything be different?”
The question hung between us. I twirled the stem of my glass between my fingers, watching the wine catch the candlelight.
Would anything be different?
I pictured him in my parents’ foyer. Nervous. Like he had something to say.
If he had said it…
If he had chosen me…
If we gave in, truly gave in… and it didn’t work? That wouldn’t just hurt, it would destroy everything. Our co-parenting relationship. Any chance of a friendship. Ellie’s stability. I couldn’t risk blowing up what little solid ground we had left.
I shook my head slowly. “Even if that’s true about the girl…
I just can’t go there with him. It's not worth the risk. I mean look what's already happened.” My voice was steady, but my pulse wasn’t.
“I can’t risk royally ruining our relationship anymore than we already have.
It’s not just about us anymore.” I paused, staring into my glass.
“My focus right now is getting our friendship back to where it was. I miss our dynamic. And all of this drama the last few months just proves we need to stay friends.”
Aria watched me for a long moment. There was no judgment in her expression. Just concern and maybe a little sadness. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll back off. I just want you to be happy, Ava.”
I gave her a small, forced smile and took another sip of wine.
I was happy. I had a beautiful daughter. A successful career. A family who loved me.
Wasn’t that enough?
The piano shifted into another slow Christmas song. Outside, lights blinked cheerfully in storefront windows. And for the first time that night, I wondered if choosing safety and stability was the same thing as choosing happiness.