Because Forever (The Avenue Book 2)

by B. Cranford

  “I said practically. Same diff.”

  “You’re impossible.” She pulled her T-shirt up and over her head before rolling it into a ball and throwing it at his head. “Let me change in peace, you idiot.”

  “Nah, think I’ll stay and watch the show instead.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, body turned so he faced her, an avid look on his face. “Make it sexy, Odie. Well, even sexier,” he added with an exaggerated wink and smile as he looked her up and down.

  She rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but inside she was beaming. It had been a lonely few weeks, not speaking to him. He’d deserved it, sure. And she hadn’t exactly been sitting around doing nothing in his absence, either. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d missed him.

  Missed this—this back and forth thing that they did. Which they were now doing with a decidedly more flirty undertone. Not that it wasn’t flirty before, but this morning . . . was different.

  Sexier.

  Maybe because there was the promise of something more to come.

  Maybe because it had been so long since they’d done it.

  Maybe she should stop thinking about it because words like come and done it were making her already-aching center throb.

  She was really, really ready to talk to Austin and see what was going to happen. She just hoped that it, whatever it was, didn’t end up costing her more than just a few weeks of loneliness.

  Because forever would be a long time without her best friend.

  Chapter Six

  The bakery on Main Street sat between an optometrist and a used bookstore and smelled like a food-orgasm waiting to happen.

  Austin wasn’t ashamed of the fact that baked goods—just the smell of them, even—had that effect on him. He loved food, especially anything that could be described as a breakfast food.

  Which, he’d learned in his thirty-two years, could be just about anything, if you played your cards right.

  Pizza for breakfast? Been there, done that.

  Fried chicken? Uh huh—a staple of his drunken youth.

  Candy? Only every November first he could remember.

  But croissants and Danishes and donuts were in a league of their own. A delicious, flaky, sugary, glazed league of their own.

  I’m really hungry, he thought, his stomach agreeing with a loud, long rumble.

  “Was that your stomach? Did we miss the window?” Odie asked, pretend biting her nails with a wide-eyed oh no expression.

  “Not quite, but we’re cutting it close. Order the first thing you see; we can come back for seconds if we have to.” He was only half kidding, which he knew that she knew. The window had started as a joke right around the time they’d entered middle school—there was a small period of time from when he first felt hungry to when he became a hangry troll, and if he didn’t eat within that time?

  Hell. To. Pay.

  “Austin? Are you okay?”

  “Do I look okay, Garfield?” he retorted, half-doubled over with empty-stomach pains, but not bent enough to miss the roll of her eyes directed at him. “What? Just because you can go three days eating only a pea, doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t need to eat. Jeez.”

  “Austin,” she said, shoving him in the shoulder with all her strength, which wasn’t even close to enough to knock him down. He was thirteen years old and had a good six inches on her already. “I eat, don’t be a jerk.”

  “I never see you eat.”

  “Because you always eat my lunch!”

  “I do not. Just sometimes.”

  “Sure, if sometimes is every single day.” She shoved at him again, but this time, instead of letting it go, he grabbed her hand and stood up, giving her the smile he knew she couldn’t stay mad at.

  “Sorry, Odie.”

  “’S’okay. I know you get mean when we miss the window.”

  “Mean? The window?” He looked down to where he still held her hand and found he didn’t actually mind it. Maybe he’d been wrong these past couple years and holding hands with her was okay? I wonder if Aaron holds hands with girls? He dismissed the thought quickly, knowing somehow that holding hands with girls wasn’t really his brother’s thing, and looked back up at his best friend.

  “Yeah. Haven’t you ever noticed? There’s, like, this gap between when you say you’re hungry and when you get grumpy. I call it the window.” She laughed a little at the end of her explanation and he joined her, relieved she didn’t seem to be mad at him.

  “Austin, did you just pass out while still standing?” Odie waved a hand in front of his face, and he smiled at her. “Did we miss it?”

  “No, not yet. Grab a table, I’ll order.” He kissed her cheek, enjoying the fact he could do that, and risked missing the window to watch her weave through the tables to an empty one in the far corner.

  She’d put on a long white knitted sweater and the tightest pair of jeans he thought he’d ever seen. Thank you, God, for tight jeans and Odette, he prayed, only half kidding.

  There were days when he genuinely wanted to thank—and give a gift basket to—the person responsible for bringing him Odie, but since that person wasn’t speaking to him anymore, it wasn’t going to happen.

  His mom had all but forced him to accompany her down the street to greet their new neighbors when Odie’s family had first moved to their neighborhood. He’d gone along reluctantly because he was bored and his mom had made cookies—he thought that the new neighbors would probably offer some to them as thanks for bringing them, and he’d been right—but it wasn’t the cookies that were his favorite part of that day.

  It was meeting Odette, who’d been carrying two Barbie dolls and a stuffed pony. He’d hated dolls as a rule, but the way she’d asked him if he wanted to see her new room and play with her had made him change his mind about Barbie.

  Not that he’d ever let either of his siblings find out about that. Or the fact that they were twelve the last time they’d played with them together.

  It wasn’t that he liked them, necessarily, though it was pretty fun to make the voices and have them get into all kinds of shenanigans. It was the fact that it made Odie smile.

  He’d spent twenty-five years trying to make Odie smile.

  He wouldn’t mind spending twenty-five more.

  Their order placed, Austin had moved to the end of the counter to wait for their drinks when a warm hand wrapped around his waist and came to rest on his stomach. “Dundee, of all the gin joints,” a familiar voice purred in his ear and he turned with a big smile on his face.

  “Bianca, I didn’t know you were back.” Standing in front of him, his sister’s best friend returned his smile and leaned in for a hug. Not that he let it stop him from ribbing her. “You mixed up your movies. Crocodile Dundee and Casablanca? Not a combo you hear often.”

  She laughed, a rich sound that made heads turn. “It’s not my fault those idiot friends of yours gave you that stupid nickname. College boys aren’t very original, are they?”

  “You tell me, you married one.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Bianca had recently returned from working overseas, and it was while she was over there that her husband had decided he wanted to “explore his options”. “Shit, sorry, B.”

  “I take it your sister filled you in.” Her smile turned sad, and he reached to pat her arm—awkwardly, because Hello, Captain Tactless—just as his name was called. “I won’t keep you waiting. Will you be at Ash’s place this weekend?”

  He nodded slowly, trying to remember what was happening that weekend that he’d forgotten, when Odie stepped up to rescue him. “Baby shower? Hi. Bianca, right?”

  Bianca’s smiled changed again, this time to a welcoming one. Her hair—a sun-streaked riot of brown curls—bounced around her head as she nodded. “Yeah, and you’re Odette?”

  Odie held out a hand, which Bianca ignored in favor of a hug. When they pulled back, Odie offered, “My friends call me Odie.”

  “You’ll be at the sh
ower, too?” She clapped her hands when Odie confirmed, then turned back to Austin. “You have to be there with your girl. We’re going to do a diaper race.”

  “Wait, why is the shower so late?” Austin interjected, his hunger making his confusion all the more real. “I thought these things happened way before the baby was born.”

  “I didn’t get back as soon as I expected, and she’d been so adamant she didn’t want it, I decided to just organize it and hope for the best.”

  “And if she has the baby between now and then?”

  Bianca gave an easy laugh. “No problem, we’ll make it a welcome home party. Or take everything to the hospital and share cupcakes with the nurses.”

  “God, yes. Cupcakes.” Austin’s stomach chose that moment to growl again, even louder, and both the women standing with him laughed.

  “Saved by the bell,” Bianca joked. “I’ll let you two eat, and Odie, make sure he comes. We need to be certain that he knows his stuff if he’s ever going to babysit his niece.” She raised both eyebrows at him, a comical look on her face wiping away all trace of her momentary sadness at his slip-up.

  “Let me help,” Odie offered after waving a goodbye to Bianca, who’d moved back to the other end of the counter to order. It looked like she was ordering to-go, otherwise, Austin thought, he’d have asked her to join them.

  Or not, he thought, looking down at his girl, currently holding her tea pot and cup and giving him a pointed look.

  One that said How much did you order? Which, he reasoned, was a fair question, given that there was an entire tray full of pastries.

  And that was just his first course.

  When the stunning woman with riotous brown curls and skin the color of perfectly steeped tea first walked into the bakery, Odie couldn’t help but stare.

  Just like she couldn’t help the sharp pang of jealously that hit her when that same woman wrapped an arm around Austin in a casual way that spoke of time spent getting to know one another.

  But then, that beautiful woman smiled, and Odie recognized her from the photo that hung in the back office of The Avenue. In it, Ashton was wearing a simple, silvery dress and laughing with her best friend, Bianca—who was dressed in a white gown that made her warm skin radiant. It was a classic wedding photo, bride and maid of honor, and it was the first thing that Ashton had hung in that office when she and Aussie had bought the place.

  Knowing that she had nothing to worry about from Bianca—and knowing that Austin would likely need help carrying everything back to the table if he’d ordered to satisfy his stomach—she’d made her way over to them.

  The nerves she’d been feeling all morning at the idea of this conversation that had to happen had been quelled by the little break provided by Bianca, but once they’d made it back to their table, there was nothing for it.

  They had to talk.

  They couldn’t put it off any longer.

  Odie straightened in her seat, determined to face it head-on. Because it was too important not to—it could be the difference between more mornings fighting over spooning positions and just plain old fighting.

  “So . . .” she started, unsure of what to say, how to start. “How ’bout that local sports team?”

  Aussie’s laugh was unexpected, as was the shower of pastry crumbs that rained down in front of him. She laughed along with him, until he sobered. And got the ball rolling. “Why don’t you like me calling you Garfield?”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Odie. Well, aside from your apparent willingness to date Meatball, that is.” He said it with humor in his voice and a twinkle in his eyes, but that didn’t stop her momentary flare of annoyance. “Too soon?” he added, taking a huge bite of the apple Danish he’d snagged from the tray.

  “Yes. And slow down, you’ll choke.”

  “And that would make you sad?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, needy. It would. My tea would get cold while I performed the Heimlich maneuver on you and no one wants cold tea.”

  “I think the iced tea/sweet tea crowd would disagree with you.”

  “Well, they’d be wrong. Which is a stand you should be familiar with by now.”

  “Oooh, ouch.” He took another bite, smaller this time. “Bwetter?” he asked around the mouthful.

  “Much. But don’t talk with your mouth full. My mother would be shocked.” Wasn’t that the truth? Her mother was a stickler for rules and manners and loved Austin like a son, so she wouldn’t be shy about giving him her opinion on his habits.

  “Momma P can’t stay mad at me. She thinks I’m adorable. And besides, I wouldn’t have to talk with my mouth full if you’d just answer my question already.” He’d finished the Danish and, instead of taking another pastry from the tray, he pushed it slightly to the side, so he could lean in. “So, I’ll ask one more time: why don’t you like me calling you Garfield?”

  “I love it.” It was a whispered confession, but one she had to build on so he understood. “It’s one of my favorite things, but do you remember the first time you called me that?”

  But for a slight shake of the head, he didn’t reply, so she kept on. “We were playing touch football with your other friends, and they all had nicknames. And you said I needed one too, because I was one of the guys.”

  “Jesus, Odie. That was twenty years ago.”

  She leveled him with a stare that said don’t interrupt me, which he responded to by miming zipping his lips closed and throwing away the key.

  “I know it was, but it’s just . . . I don’t know. That day, it came out of nowhere. Like a reminder that that’s how you’ve always seen me—just one of the guys. And I was pissed at you for telling me off about Meatball and then kissing me and calling me Garfield when you’d never said anything before. I was confused. Am I Garfield? One of the boys who throws punches and plays football and can beat everyone else in a chugging contest?”

  “I know I’m supposed to be silent right now, but would it be inappropriate to tell you how often I’ve fantasized about your deep throating skills based on how well you take down a pint?”

  Odie froze. Should that have offended me? She wasn’t sure how to react. Half of her wanted to be affronted by his words—the way he was objectifying her. But the other half, which was more like three quarters or seven-eighths, wanted to drop to her knees and show him that his fantasies weren’t even close.

  “Aus—”

  “I’m not saying that to be an asshole or whatever. But you think I see you as one of the guys because when I was a kid who thought girls had cooties I gave you a nickname? No. I haven’t seen you as just one of the guys in years, Odie. Years.”

  “I–really?” She tilted her head and tried to think of something, anything, that might have given her a clue that he’d been thinking about her like that. For so long.

  “Of course, really. You think I’d lie to you about it? I call you Garfield because it’s your nickname. I promise you, it doesn’t matter how it started—all that matters now is that I want you. You’re my best friend. And my prettiest one. It’s just that you’re . . . only . . . just you.” He took a moment to look around the room and Odie couldn’t help but think he was trying to collect his thoughts. He clearly needed to, and honestly, so did she.

  “I need to go use the bathroom. Do not eat my croissant,” she added, pointing at the flaky goodness she’d moved closer to her before it could become a victim of Hurricane Austin’s stomach.

  It was her best excuse to leave the moment. And maybe it made her a coward, but she needed to breathe.

  She needed to think.

  It’s just that you’re . . . only . . . just you.

  She needed to remember.

  “You’re so pretty, Garfield.” Austin came up behind her in the mirror, the lapel of his suit jacket slightly askew.

  “And you’re a mess,” she retorted, turning around and smoothing down the material. “Are you nervous?”

  �
��About going to prom? No, why would I be?” His smile was wide, but his eyes still held the residual sadness from the falling out his family had experienced. “Are you?”

  “No.” Her voice sounded sure, but she was anything but. She’d agreed to go with a guy from her gym only after Austin had announced he’d asked some girl Odie had never met, but standing in her bedroom—the one she’d been sharing with Aussie for the past few weeks—made her feel a little dizzy.

  That was a new sensation. One she wasn’t sure she liked.

  “Liar. If you think Shawn is going to do something you don’t like . . .”

  “I can take care of myself, but thanks?” She phrased it like a question, though she didn’t know why. He’d always been there for her—well, for as long as she’d known him, anyway—and his offer to take care of her was sweet, brotherly and more than a little misplaced.

  “Yeah, I know you can defend yourself. But you shouldn’t have to. You might be a kickass girl, but you’re still my Garfield.”

  She wanted to reply, but was stopped by the ringing of the doorbell and the call of her mother that Austin’s date had arrived. She didn’t know anything about the girl he was taking—she wasn’t from their school—but she hoped, maybe even prayed, that she was nice.

  If she had to deal with another jealous harpy, she’d be liable to show off her right hook.

  And she had one hell of a right hook.

  They made their way downstairs together, her arm slipped through Austin’s offered one, but broke apart when they came to the foyer. An unfamiliar face with a smile that faltered when it took in the way she and Aussie had descended the stairs greeted her.

  “Austin,” the girl practically cooed, triggering Odie’s eye roll reflex. “Who’s that?”

  She looked the girl up and down while waiting to hear Aussie’s response. Her blonde hair was long and straight, her little red dress was more little than dress and her smile as she looked Odie over in the same way made its way back. Forced, but back.