Where You Belong

by Tracie Puckett

  “What’s that?”

  “Ally’s young beau challenged me to a bake-off this weekend, and I’m going to take his cute butt down so hard he’ll never know what hit him. And you just gave me my secret weapon. Peach pie.”

  “Oh, please acknowledge me in your acceptance speech when you win.”

  “You bet,” she said, furiously taking notes.

  I turned back to Ally and Mel, where Jeff was just saying goodbye, and I slipped into our usual corner booth.

  “Don’t let Jasper see you talking to Delta,” Ally teased. “She’s the enemy.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said. “I was just giving her some pointers.”

  “Hey, whose side are you on?”

  “Who cares?” I asked. “Either way, I’m eating pie.”

  “I owe you guys,” Mel said, stopping by the booth after Jeff had finally disappeared out the front door. “A million times over. Thank you.”

  “Anytime,” Ally said, and I nodded.

  Mel took our drink orders and returned to the counter.

  Ally perked up. “So what’s the deal with your lover boy out in California?”

  “Don’t know; he’s texted every day, but he hasn’t called since Sunday,” I said, remembering the birthday call I’d gotten from him when the clock struck midnight.

  His large order of flowers arrived on the doorstep hours later, and another package showed up on Monday afternoon. I’d ripped open the box the moment I got home from school. Along with a sweet and sentimental birthday card, Avery had sent a gift—one that certainly went down in history as the silliest present I’d ever received. I’d unwrapped a brand new Mrs. Avery Chase T-shirt. The fresh signature he’d left near the bold letters across the chest made me laugh hysterically. Attached, he’d pinned a picture of himself wearing a similar shirt, one that read Mr. Rosalind Bingham.

  “He’s due back on set come Monday,” I said, realizing that even the text messages may stop once they started shooting episodes again.

  “I’m glad he didn’t walk away,” Ally said, and I nodded, because I knew he never would.

  I’d seen the conviction in his eyes when he thought he’d have to fight for that job. I knew there was no way he’d give it up, in spite of the fact that he’d convinced himself otherwise.

  One trip home was all it’d taken, and Avery was right back to doing what he loved.

  I’d talked to him right after his meeting with the network last week. He’d gone in, refused their demands, and yet they still fought to keep him on. They’d only threatened his job, hoping he’d take the proper steps to help himself, but even when he refused, they begged him not to go. Apparently, he was better for the ratings than they were willing to admit.

  Both parties got what they wanted: they didn’t want to lose him, and he couldn’t walk away.

  While Avery claimed the Hollywood life wasn’t for him, he’d had very few reservations about sticking it out in LA once he’d gotten back.

  “Avery?” Delta said, holding a carryout bag. She scanned the tables, looking for someone, calling out the to-go order. She yelled again. “Avery, order up.”

  Ally and I turned from our booth and watched as a man slid out of a chair at the first table.

  “You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me,” I said, pulling myself out of the seat.

  Avery was up at the counter, his beautiful face hidden beneath that stupid baseball cap.

  “Oh, hey,” he said, turning to me as if he wasn’t at all surprised to see me there. “Saw you come in earlier. I was wondering when you were going to come over and say hello. Thought you were avoiding me.”

  “I . . . I didn’t see you,” I said.

  “Interesting.” He bit his lip. “So the hat is an invisibility cloak?”

  “I stand corrected,” I said, throwing my arms around his neck and hugging him. He was just as eager to scoop me up, too, and he held on tighter when I tried to back away. “Why are you here? I thought you were tied up in rehearsals until—”

  “I do get weekends off, you know. Not every weekend, of course, but some.”

  “Yeah, but you’re supposed to be—”

  “Right here,” he said. “I told you I was coming back, Roz.”

  “But—”

  “Why are you surprised?” He nudged me. “Have a little faith in me.” I tried to put two words together, to say something, but just like always, Avery left me tongue-tied. “Do you have a couple free days to pencil me in?”

  “Yes,” I said, finally forcing a word out. “Oh my god. Yes.”

  “Good.” He nodded out the door. “Because I need some help unpacking.”

  “Unpacking what?”

  “Some stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “I’m three seasons into a five-year contract,” he said, telling me what I already knew. “And while that’s a big commitment out west, I’m going to spend every moment of my downtime here.”

  “Here?”

  “In Sutton Woods,” he said. “If I can’t leave LA for good, at least for now, I need a healthy balance to keep me grounded.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “At my new vacation home.” He dangled a set of keys from his finger. “Bought a place.”

  “You bought a house?”

  “I can’t crash with Wes forever.”

  “So you’re really doing this? You’re really coming back?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” He smiled. “And I’ll be back all the time—every chance I get.”

  “Oh my god, this is amazing!” I said, throwing my arms around him again.

  “So what do you say? You want to help me settle into the only place that’s ever felt like home?”

  “I do,” I said, wiping the tear that slipped down my cheek. “I absolutely do.”

  “Then come on.” He took my hand. “We have so much to do, and I can’t wait to get started.”

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