I huff out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as my muscles relax in relief. For a second, I have no words. When she reaches up and rubs her thumb underneath my eye, I’m startled when I realize that we’re both crying. I shake my head and press the heels of my hands against my eyes, drying them roughly as embarrassment washes over me.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“For what?” she asks, pulling my hands away from my face. As my eyes lock with hers, all I can manage is a shrug. “Never apologize for how you feel. I want all of you, always. No secrets, remember?”
“Yeah. I remember.”
“Good.”
“Man, I love you,” I say, shaking my head in awe of the woman before me. Thank you, God. That’s all I can say is—thank you. I’ll never doubt Your love because of hers.
“I love you, too, man,” she replies teasingly, jerking her chin up in a nod. I laugh, because she’s so ridiculous and so adorable; and then I kiss her, because I can’t help myself. As soon as she clings to me, all jokes are set aside and our kiss deepens. I don’t know how long we sit, consumed in the passion of the moment, before I hear someone calling us. Not someone—Addie.
“Hey, guys!” Avery pulls away from me, looking behind her toward the sliding glass door we came out of a while ago, but no one is there. “Up here, AJ,” cries Addie in a mock whisper. We both look up and find Addie standing in her bedroom window. “Mom and dad just pulled up. Thought I should warn you.”
“Thanks,” replies Avery with a grin and a blush.
“That’s what I’m here for,” she says before sliding her window shut.
Avery blows out a short breath before focusing her attention back on me. “Okay. You ready for this?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” I offer her a smile, which I’m pleased to say is completely genuine; our conversation has me feeling slightly better than before. I’m still nervous, though, which my girl can obviously tell.
“Don’t be nervous,” she insists as she stands. “Just hold my hand.” And so I do.
I think my mom might be in love with my hot jock almost as much as I am. Whenever he speaks, she stops eating, which makes me smile. She keeps on trying to feed him, too, which he respectfully declines. I find it hilarious. Gosh, I’m so proud of him. For someone who was incredibly nervous for this moment, he’s handling it like a pro. He’s so polite—part of his adopted southern charm—that he’s got my dad practically eating out of the palm of his hand.
Even though my dad is a pretty serious looking man, standing at five eleven—obviously not inherited by my other half and me—with a receding hairline of curly graying locks, a low trimmed beard, frameless glass—which seem to draw attention to his generous laugh lines—and his collared shirt—always with the collar, whether it’s a button up or a polo, even on Saturdays—he’s really just a big, ole teddy bear. He looks constantly wrinkle free, but that’s never stopped his girls from showering him in affection whenever we get the chance. Even though he always threatened to be really hard on any guy we ever brought home, he seems to be treating Sonny like he always has in the past.
“So, Grayson, tell us a little more about yourself,” he prompts.
Hmm. Maybe I spoke too soon. It appears the inquisition is about to begin.
“Sure. Okay. What would you like to know?”
“How about your family? Do you have any siblings?”
I stifle a groan. Leave it to dad to forget that Sonny’s family is not a good conversation topic. I look beside me and watch as Sonny takes a deep breath and sets his fork down. “Um, no, sir,” he answers. “I’m an only child.”
“And your folks are in Texas, is that right?”
I cringe as Sonny rubs his hands anxiously over his shorts. When I throw my dad my Really? glare, he simply shrugs obliviously and directs his attention back on Sonny.
“My father is there. At least, the last time I checked. We don’t speak, much.” I reach over into his lap and take one of his hands, giving it a squeeze. He squeezes back but doesn’t look at me.
“You know, I do remember you telling us you were estranged,” says my mom.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” adds dad.
Dear Lord, please let this conversation end!
“Do you ever make it back there? Do you plan on traveling home this summer? I know our girls are spoiled, with the Springs only being a couple hours’ drive away,” mom inquires.
I close my eyes as I send silent prayers up to God, pleading with Him to give my parents a clue. Maybe I should have reminded them just how much he doesn’t like to talk about his family. Honestly, though…can they not feel his discomfort? It’s rolling off of him in waves! When he clears his throat before speaking, I instinctively squeeze his hand once more. I know he hates this, but I don’t know how to save him from this moment. If my parents don’t ask their questions now, I’m sure they’ll ask later.
“No, ma’am. I haven’t been back home since I graduated high school. There isn’t anything there for me, anymore. I spent four years trying to find a way out and I don’t have any desire to go back.”
The room fills with silence. I squeeze his hand again and look across the table at Addie. As our gazes meet, I can tell she’s holding her breath like I am, just waiting to see who will say what next.
“So, Avery tells us you have plans of becoming a CPA.” My dad speaks and my prayers are answered. I release a quiet sigh at the subject change, my smile resurfacing. Dad catches my eye and offers me a wink just as Sonny begins to speak.
“That’s right.”
“I assume that means you’ll be going on to work toward your MBA, then?”
“Yes, sir.”
Master’s. I forgot he needed one of those. How could I forget he needs one of those? Oh, I don’t know, perhaps because it didn’t directly affect you until now, I chastise myself. Suddenly, I don’t like this choice of conversation any more than I liked the last. Master’s Degree? Where is he going to get that from? CSU? Or will he be moving? I’m struck dumb with the reality that he and I have to start planning life after college soon. Too soon. This next semester, he’s going to be worried about applying to grad schools and I’m going to be focusing on planning for auditions and—are we going to be separated? That seems to be the only question I can ask myself, because the thought of us not being together is one I refuse to entertain.
As if on cue, my mother asks, “Do you know where you want to go to grad school?”
“I’m not sure, actually. It’s something I plan to address with my advisor as soon as fall semester begins.”
“Do you think CSU is an option?” pipes in Addie.
I have to fight the urge to cover my ears to block out the sound of his answer. I don’t want to talk about this. It’s like listening to Addie and Hammy talk about their plans to go away after graduation—except worse! Which kills me, because I didn’t think there was anything worse than being separated from my twin. I was wrong. Oh, my gosh, I was wrong!
La, la, la, la, la—I hum internally, trying to focus on something else.
Grayson shifts my hand from his left to his right before reaching over to rub small circles against my lower back. His comforting gesture calls me to look over at him. When our eyes meet, I blush, knowing right away that my internal humming must not have been so secretive after all. “CSU is an option.” He’s answering Addie’s question but looking directly at me. “But I have a lot to consider and a lot of research I need to do before I make any final decision as to where I’d like to apply.”
My parents seem to be satisfied with his answer, because they move on to discuss other things. I, on the other hand, am not satisfied. I’m also no longer hungry. For the rest of dinner, I push the remnants of my food around my plate as I listen to the noise that is everyone else speaking. I can’t really call it anything else because I don’t really hear it, too distracted by the worry that has begun to fester inside of me.
Senior year of college
is a daunting reality as it is. Having to make decisions about what comes next, it’s huge. For people like Hammy or Sonny, people who plan to continue their studies, those decisions have to be made fall semester. For me, I just always thought that I’d jump into the audition circuit and find someplace to play, but that could take me anywhere. Anywhere, before, was fine. Scary, but fine. Exciting, but fine. Now, though, anywhere doesn’t seem fine, anymore.
Making future plans with another person in mind is crazy. I didn’t think so a second ago, but I do now. I think of Jack and Claire; their future is decided because they’re going to get married. Whatever comes after that, they’ll have each other. Everyone knows that Jack is going to go back to Georgia and Claire can become a nurse anywhere, so they’ll make it work.
Then I think of Hammy and Addie. Who knows what they’re going to do now—but it was the weight of expectation in regards to their future that brought them to the place they currently reside. Not together. Then there’s Sonny and me. We’ve been together for a month—exactly a month, actually—and, what, I’m supposed to expect that he’ll take me into consideration when he picks grad schools? That’s ridiculous, right?
Why am I suddenly wondering if I should go to grad school, too? We could go together. Maybe not the same school, but the same state. Earning my master’s in performing arts wouldn’t hurt. Being without him? That would hurt. Even just thinking about it makes me want to change my clothes and go on a run so that I can clear my head.
Then, again, a year from now is a long time. What if we break up?
Goodness gracious, how did I get here? I’ve gone from zero to freaking out in two seconds! I need to get a grip.
“Will you excuse me?” I ask as I stand. I have no idea what anyone is talking about at this point, but I know I’ve interrupted someone based off of the looks I’m getting from everyone at the table.
“Are you alright?” my mom asks with a furrowed brow.
“Yeah. I just—I—yeah,” I mutter lamely. I’m sure I’ve convinced no one that I’m alright.
“You didn’t finish your dinner,” my dad points out, signaling toward the plate I grip in my hand.
“I’ll wrap it,” I reply as I head out of the dining room towards the kitchen. I discard my plate on the counter, not even thinking about covering it, and hurry my way up to my room. I have a fleeting thought that I just abandoned Grayson at the table with my parents—some girlfriend I am!—but I know that if I don’t put on some running shoes and get out of this house, I’ll lose it. There are only two ways to clear my head: running or playing my cello; and I stupidly decided to leave the latter in Fort Collins for the weekend.
I’m in running shorts, a t-shirt, and my tennis shoes in no time. As I gather my hair to pull it up into a ponytail, I head for my bedroom door. When I open it, my hair slips from my fingers at the sight of Sonny standing on the other side, poised and ready to knock.
“Knock, knock,” he murmurs as he studies me. “What are you doing?”
“I was going to go for a run. Wanna come?”
“Nooo,” he answers, dropping his hand to his stomach. “I’m kind of full.”
“Yeah. That makes sense,” I nod.
“What’s going on, sweetheart?”
Was it really just an hour ago that he was freaking out and I was asking him the same thing? Now, here we are. Complete role reversal. What’s going on is that I’m just now realizing that I don’t know how to do this!
“Do what?” he asks.
I huff out a sigh as I clamp my eyes shut. Why can’t my thoughts just stay in my head? Why?
“Avery? Can I come in?”
I peer up at him from under my eyelashes and relax the tiniest bit as I’m temporarily distracted by his handsome face, which now speaks of his concern for me. I love this man. Crazy or not, I realize that I want to make my future plans with him in mind—but is that too much, too fast?
“Shorty, you’re killing me, here.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, stepping aside to let him in.
As he passes by me, he takes my hand and leads me to my bed. I assume he’ll sit on the edge, but he lowers himself down to the floor and encourages me to occupy the space beside him. “Talk to me. What is it that you don’t know how to do?”
A part of me wants to la, la, la my way through this conversation. A big part of me. But a small part of me knows that I need to be honest, because that’s what we’ve promised each other; but also because I’ll never know what he’s feeling if I avoid the topic. So, I take a deep breath and I gather all of my hair over one shoulder—simply to occupy my fingers—and then I look into my favorite green eyes before I speak.
“Wherever you go, I want to go with you.” The words are out before I can stop them. That’s definitely not how I meant to start this conversation. I bite my lip to prevent any further word vomit as I feel my cheeks fill with color.
“What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere.” I choke on a giggle as I lean forward, laying my forehead against his shoulder. Great. Out of context, my statement just makes me sound like a stalker. “Are you okay?” he asks, cupping his hand around the back of my head as he buries his fingers in my hair.
“I suck at this,” I begin, finding my words more easily now that I’m not looking into my favorite green eyes. “It just dawned on me that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m in this with you and I thought that was enough—but I’ve never been in a serious relationship like this before and love doesn’t answer your hardest questions—like, what’s going to happen in a year when your boyfriend goes to grad school? I mean, assuming we’re still together, which I hope that we are. And if we are, then we need to figure out where we’re going to be and how we’re going to make it work and that’s scary. It’s so scary! We’ve both got plans, goals—dreams—and I want to see your dreams come true just as much as I want mine; but I also can’t be without you. So wherever you go, I want to go with you. Maybe that’s incredibly naive of me, but I can’t help it. It’s what I want. I don’t know what that looks like, but maybe—“
“Hey, hey, hey,” he mumbles into my hair. He kisses the top of my head as he squeezes the back of my neck. “Slow down. Breathe.” I feel his warm breath against my scalp as he chuckles between the kisses he showers on the crown of my head. He trails his lips down to my ear, where he whispers of his love before he kisses along my cheek, coaxing my head up. I follow his lead, hoping for a kiss, but I’m disappointed when he pulls away before our lips meet.
“Listen,” he begins, piercing me with his gaze. “We don’t have to make any decisions today. Or tomorrow. Or even next month! We’ve got time to figure it all out.”
I moan, unable to mask my frustration. “That’s what Hammy always used to say to Addie. Look at them now.”
He shakes his head at me, as if to negate my argument. “I trust Beck and I know that he’s doing what his heart has led him to do. But I’m not him and we’re not them and God doesn’t write the exact same story twice.”
“You’re right,” I concede. “That’s not a fair comparison. I’m sorry.”
“Ave, sweetheart, there’s only one thing we need to agree on right now—I believe in us and I believe everything else will work itself out if we just agree on this one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t want to stand in the way of your greatness, not ever; and I don’t want you to stand in the way of my goals—but I think we should always stand beside each other. Agreed?”
I nod my head enthusiastically, speechless and relieved and completely blown away that this guy is mine! How did I get to be so lucky?
“And for the record, wherever you go, I want to go with you, too.”
All of a sudden, going on a run is the last thing I want to do. Somehow, without any definitive answers, Sonny addressed all of my questions and I’m no longer worried. I trust him. I trust him with my whole heart, and I believe him when he says we’ll figure it out. And while I know we should pr
obably go back downstairs to see what the rest of my family is doing, I can’t leave this room without kissing him—if I do, it’ll be all I think about until my desire is satisfied.
As my gaze drifts down to his mouth, I know he knows what I’m thinking by the smirk that pulls at his lips. When my eyes shoot up to meet his, I see my longing mirrored in his stare. We both lean in at the same time, which makes me giggle with delight. I can feel his reciprocating smile against mine and I can’t help but think—I hope we stay this happy forever.
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Enough!” my mother cries as she enters the room. Kenzie and I are at the sink, washing the dishes from dinner, and arguing—which is all we seem to do these days. It’s not my fault, as she’s always the one to start it. “Kenzie, go to your room.”
“What?” she gasps. “Why do I have to go? He’s the one who—”
Mom holds up a hand to silence her. “First of all, you will go because I said so. Second, are you really complaining about being relieved from dish duty? And third, I’m sick and tired of hearing you two bicker. You’ve been at it since Beckham walked in the door. I don’t want to hear it. Now go.”
Kenzie huffs out a breath before flicking her water soaked fingers at me. “Hey! Mom, did you see that?”
“You’re so immature. Telling on me like that,” scoffs Kenzie with an eye roll.
“I’m immature?”
“Kenzie—out. Now.”
My mom joins me at the sink as we listen to Kenzie stomp her way up the stairs to her bedroom. “She’s impossible.”
The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) Page 30
