The way I loved her.
The way she didn't even know about yet. Only she would know, not just by me saying the words but by me showing her.
All the shuffling pictures, some that had really happened and some imagined, coalesced into one idea. One plan. Glancing over at her to make sure she was out, I slid carefully out of the bed until I found her laptop on the kitchen counter.
Frankie swam lazily around his bowl as I pulled up a seat and winced against the harsh light of the screen.
I gave him a look. "Man to man, you'd tell me if this was a bad idea, right?"
In answer, he flicked his majestic fins and turned in the opposite direction.
"Good talk, Frankie, thanks."
I took a deep breath and started searching.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ava
The morning I was scheduled to leave for the vow renewal dawned bright and clear, and I would know because I laid in bed and watched the light in my bedroom turn from black to soft gray to pale pink to bright, blinding, violent, omen-of-death yellow.
Beside me, Matthew slept heavily, his muscular arm slung over my waist, and his face turned into the pillow. Somewhere deep in my chest cavity, in the vicinity of my lungs, I felt a yawning sense of foreboding about the next forty-eight hours. I had to close my eyes against it. That disconcerting pit in my stomach, one that I couldn't breathe away, that all the meditation or prayer or hot yoga or goat sacrifice would abolish, had me feeling like I was three seconds away from throwing up.
"You need to leave for camp, big boy," I whispered to Matthew. His long, dark eyelashes fluttered up slowly, and his sleepy smile helped the pit in my tummy recede a bit.
During moments like that one, when I watched him wake up, I couldn't help but marvel at how I ended up here.
One day it was making out in the cab and WTF is happening right now to let's unofficially officially live together, and neither of us had seemed to blink.
Maybe that was where the portent of doom was coming from. From the ridiculous sense that two days would somehow alter our relationship. It made me feel better to think that was the case instead of the alternative. The alternative was my bad, icky, terrible feeling was coming from the time I'd spend with my family because of how awful they'd be.
Matthew grumbled and tugged me closer. He placed an absentminded kiss on my lips before he slipped out of bed, standing and stretching with a great roar of sound from deep in his chest. I smiled and watched him pull his stuff together.
Without having to see it, I knew he grabbed a banana from the basket on my kitchen sink, and he'd stop for a protein-packed green smoothie on his way to camp from his favorite place, which was the same way he always started his early mornings. Once the door to my place slammed shut, I laid in bed longer than I should have.
All morning in the office, I kept my head down and focused on my work. The door to my office stayed conspicuously shut as though I was girding my metaphorical loins for what I was about to do. At camp that afternoon, I kept a smile on my face and did my job, shuffling people where they needed to go, conducting a few interviews, and keeping our VIP guests for the day happy, a rock band that had a connection with our star wide receiver, Johnson.
Matthew caught my eye a few times, giving me secret smiles and tiny winks that no one would notice but making sure I knew he was paying attention to how stressed out I was. By the time camp wrapped up, I knew he needed to go straight into a team meeting.
I stalled in my office as long as I possibly could, but the hands on the clock ticked closer and closer to when I needed to head over to the ferry to catch the last ride for the day. What had dawned as a bright, sunny day had clouded over, dropping the temperature just enough that I kept my jacket on while I walked out to my car.
"Slim," Matthew's voice yelled just as I was unlocking my driver's side door.
I exhaled in relief. "I didn't think I'd see you before I left."
He jogged over to me and slid his hands down my arms. "Sorry, everyone else got let go, but Coach was feeling chatty. I couldn't get away."
I smiled up at him. "No apology needed."
He glanced around, but we were alone in the staff parking lot. "You've got this."
Nodding, I let out a deep breath. That pit was back. And it was loud. It made my whole body hurt. "Okay."
Matthew opened my car door for me and waited until I was settled behind the wheel before he crouched down to give us a brief window of privacy. He leaned up and kissed me sweetly with just a hint of his tongue before he pulled back.
"I'll talk to you soon, okay?" he said, eyes concerned by whatever he saw on my face.
"Yeah," I told him. "It'll be fine."
It would be fine. As I stared into his eyes, warm and soft and chocolatey, I leaned in to kiss him again. Longer this time. And I didn't even care to check if anyone was around. His forehead touched mine before he pulled back and stood.
"Text me when the ferry gets there?"
I nodded. "Will do."
Matthew shut my door for me and stood in the spot while I pulled out.
By the time I got my suitcase, ran a brush through my hair, requested my Uber, and slicked some more lipstick over my lips, I knew I was cutting it close. Since I wasn't bringing my car, it wouldn't be too bad getting on the ferry, especially for the evening run, but my heart thudded uncomfortably all the same, right up until my driver peeled up to the entrance.
"Thanks," I yelled as I slammed the door shut and walked briskly up to the long, covered entryway. The massive white and green boat barely moved in the choppy water of the bay, and I hugged my jacket more tightly to my body as wind from the west swept over me in a gust.
I handed my ticket over to a worker wearing a fluorescent yellow jacket, and she lifted her chin in acknowledgment before moving on to the person behind me. The sun was low in the sky as I made my way through the enclosed deck. The blue chairs and booths bracketed to the floor were mostly empty, and I took a deep breath, the silence punctuated only by the sound of cars sliding into place and the engine on the boat clicking into gear as we started our slow glide across the waters.
Where I'd be stranded. With my family.
I avoided holidays easily because of work. Thanksgiving and Christmas were still incredibly busy times of the year for me unless they fell on a bye week. But even one day for a holiday with a night spent in a hotel had nothing on this little shindig.
Once the ferry left, I was well and truly stuck.
I sank into a seat toward the end of the boat and dumped my purse next to me on the floor.
Just as my eyes were closing so I could rest until we arrived, someone cleared their throat.
Low. The voice was low. And close.
Before I opened my eyes, I took a second because it sounded familiar.
It sounded like someone who was not supposed to be there.
And sure enough, when my eyelids lifted, I started at the bottom, his big feet clad in heavy brown boots, his long legs encased in dark denim, his torso covered in a basic gray shirt, and saw Logan mother effing I was going to kill him Ward.
"Logan,” I said quietly. “You're standing in front of me right now. I'm not imagining this?"
He dipped his chin. "Hey."
"Hey?" I repeated slowly, my confusion morphing into something bigger and louder.
Logan cleared his throat.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" I whispered.
He must have heard the restrained violence in my tone because he grimaced before looking away. Over his shoulder was a large black duffel and in his other hand, a dry-cleaning bag. You know the ones. They usually held suits. Dresses. Or tuxedos.
"I'm taking a chance that you were full of shit when you said you didn't need help."
"What?" I yelled, standing to my full height, which was still a solid seven inches under his. I didn't care. "Oh no, you march your ass straight off this ferry, mister."
He lifted his eyebrows, then glanced
meaningfully at the Seattle skyline in the ever-growing distance. At the pier, the white Ferris wheel moved slowly as if it was waving goodbye.
I sank my head into my hands and breathed deeply, breathed slowly.
The chair next to me was empty, which I regretted now, because Logan lowered his big, stupid frame into it and sighed.
"Listen," he said in his gruff, gravelly voice, "maybe it was a little presumptuous to just show up."
Slowly, oh so slowly, I turned my head and gave him an incredulous stare. "Maybe?"
Logan was quiet. Probably because he sensed murder in me.
I straightened, keeping my face forward on the bluish-gray water outside the boat, the white-tipped waves moving along with the gusting wind the farther we got away from shore. "Explain, please. Something that makes more sense than what you just told me."
Logan gave me a sideways look that I saw in my peripheral vision. "Besides just wanting to help?"
"Yup." I knit my fingers together on my lap and clenched them tightly. "You and I are not people who help each other. We barely know each other."
He was quiet for a minute. "That's true," he answered slowly.
"Which is why it doesn't make sense." Did I seriously need to fill in the blanks for him? I mentally tallied how many concussions Logan had suffered since he came to Washington. Two? Three? I couldn't remember. My brain was too preoccupied with the fact that Logan Ward decided to channel his inner white knight with me as his test subject. If I wasn't so freaked out, I might have thought it was sweet. Sweet, in a meathead, clearly didn't take my words at face value kind of way.
We sat in silence for a few long moments, and Logan shifted in my direction enough that I had no choice but to quit my staring contest with the water and glance at him. I tried not to glare, honestly, but I was freaking out that he was on this ferry with me.
The last ferry of the day.
Cue hysterical laughter.
"I may not have the same family issues you do. Whatever your issues are with your sister. But"—he scratched at his jaw and looked incredibly uncomfortable—"sometimes it would be nice not to have to face their bullshit alone, you know?"
My anger fled. Poof. Like magic.
The pit in my belly suddenly had a name, a label, the sudden bright light switch of clarity shining on it.
I didn't want to do this alone. The entire time I'd been freaking out was because I didn't want to walk into this entire ordeal with no one to be my safety net. Not someone to fight my battles for me or speak in my place, but I wanted, desperately, to be able to have Matthew stand there with me so I would know that I wasn't alone.
"I understand that, trust me." I slumped down and let the back of my head rest on my chair. "But Logan ... you have to admit it's a little insane that you're here right now."
"Do you hate me?" Without looking, I could hear a slight grin in his voice.
"I don't hate you." Opening my eyes, I cut him a brief look. "But you coming complicates things for me. Especially if I can't smuggle you back out on this exact ferry without my family seeing you."
His smile was quick and fast. There and gone. But he wouldn't look at me.
We sat quietly for a while. Not once did he look at his phone, which struck me as odd. I wanted to pull mine out and scroll mindlessly, but for some reason, I felt like I was taking my cue from him.
"So this guy you're dating..."
My heart seized in my chest. I should just tell him—tell him that the guy was Matthew and tell him about Matthew's history with my family—but the words crawled to a stop when I heard a familiar laugh behind us.
If I thought my heart seized in my chest before? It just fell the fuck out of my body.
"Ava? Is that you?"
"Oh dear sweet baby Jesus be a fence," I whispered under my breath. Then I turned. "Hi, Mom," I said weakly.
Logan's face snapped to me, his eyes widening in horror.
Because I had no choice, I stood and gave her a listless hug.
I was screwed.
And not in a good way.
Right on her heels was my dad, wearing a dark suit and perfectly starched white shirt. His hair was a touch grayer than it had been the last time I saw him, just as the lines fanning out from his green eyes were a touch deeper.
"I-I thought you guys were getting to the island yesterday."
My dad patted my back absentmindedly. "Had to bump our flight, kiddo. I was called in on an emergency quadruple bypass when the on-call doc was already in surgery."
Logan stood slowly, wiping his hands down his thighs. The look on his face was stoic, but I could sense the unease in his rigid frame.
Did I feel bad for him?
I sure as hell did not. This is what you get, Ward, when you show up on ferries that you shouldn't be on, I thought bitterly.
That was when I saw the transformation in my mom's perfectly unlined, perfectly made-up face. Her pink lips, the same Elizabeth Arden Blushing Pink that she'd worn as long as I could walk, curved up slowly, slowly, slowly. Her eyes narrowed like they only did when she was actually, really happy about something.
And then, she pushed her caramel-colored hair in her signature sleek bob behind her ear and tilted her chin to show off her good side. "Well now, you must be Ava's beau."
Kill.
Me.
Now.
Logan gave me a brief look that I roughly translated to, what the hell am I supposed to do? I blinked a few times because I didn't know.
Maybe I could say he was a stranger I'd been chatting with.
Maybe I could say ... I didn't know! I didn't know what I could say because the universe had just wedged my numb body between Mount Rainier and another big mountain, making it impossible for me to move. To speak. To think, apparently.
He stretched his hand out to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Logan."
My mom took his hand but then turned hers so her knuckles were facing up. Oh my sweet Lord, did she want him to kiss her hand?
"Mom," I said, shaking my head.
She shrugged like, can't blame me for trying. "Logan, what a wonderfully strong name. Please, call me Abigail."
My dad stepped forward and took Logan's hand in a firm shake. "Alan Baker." He rocked back and gave Logan a considering look, head to toe, as though he was a horse about to go up on the auction block. "Ward? That's your last name?"
"Yes, sir."
Oh goodie, my fake date was polite.
"Any family I might know in the Northern California area?"
Logan glanced at me, clearing his throat before he answered. "Not that I know of."
"And you play? On Ava's team?"
I rolled lips between my teeth and considered the possibility of survival if I were to pitch myself overboard and swim back to Seattle.
At that question, Logan actually graced my parents with a tiny smile. "You could argue it's my team more than Ava's since I've been there about five years longer. Though she does keep us all in line with an iron fist."
My father laughed heartily, and my mom tittered as though he'd just told her she was the most beautiful woman alive. I mock glared at him even though he was completely right.
"Right, right," my dad said, slapping him on the back. "That sounds like our Ava."
"Does it now?" I muttered.
"Can we sit with you?" my mom asked, rolling her suitcase to the chairs opposite of ours and taking a seat before anyone uttered so much as a syllable. As much as anyone could, my mother looked regal sitting in that blue plastic chair, her tan pantsuit perfectly tailored and her slim legs crossed so that we could see the nude patent heels with the bright red bottoms.
Logan and I took our seats, and he leaned in to whisper in my ear while my parents looked at something on my dad's phone. "Alan, Abigail, Ashley, and Ava?"
I exhaled quietly, then answered under my breath. "And my brother-in-law is Adam. Yes, our family matches. Keep your judgment away from me, if you please. It's not like I had any choic
e in the matter."
He smiled again, then settled into his chair before folding his arms over his chest. "They don't seem so bad."
"Bite your tongue, Ward. You've known them for thirty-two seconds."
He actually chuckled under his breath, and I considered what might happen if I punched him in the nuts. Maybe it wasn't fair, but Logan made a very convenient anger scapegoat in this whole bullshit situation. While my parents continued their private conversation, and Logan fell quiet again, I fought the urge to panic while I considered my options.
1- I excuse myself and call Matthew. Tell him what happened and hope it didn't stress him out that I was parading one of his teammates around as my date. Unintentionally, but still.
2- I come clean to my parents right now while we were stuck on this boat for forty minutes or so.
And then there was the last option. I took a deep breath and felt that roiling pit in my stomach again. Only this time, it was accompanied by a hundred-pound weight on my chest.
3- I let the weekend play out. Make Logan go home tomorrow morning, fake an illness or something. My parents think they met my boyfriend, but he doesn't attend the ceremony in Matthew's place. When I get home on Sunday, I come clean to Matthew so he's not stressed the entire weekend.
Surreptitiously, I watched my parents. My mom must have felt my eyes on them because she glanced up. Then she winked, giving me a wide-eyed stare as she tilted her head in Logan's direction. Nice work, she mouthed. And just like that, her attention left me, zeroing back on my dad's phone and whatever was so fascinating to them.
For a moment, I hated her. I hated myself. Because that one small nod of approval felt like she'd handed me my weight in gold. I'd never heard them be proud of my job or what I'd accomplished professionally. I'd never heard them compliment anything about me. The closest thing I'd ever gotten was what my dad had said to Logan.
At the back of my throat, I felt the burn of embarrassed tears. Because I knew I'd choose option three. Even if it was for twelve hours, I couldn't deny the fact that I wanted my family to look at me and be impressed. To hold their interest, just for a few snippets of time.
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