"Plates?"
"Why not? Normal people have dishes. They also have this really cool silverware made out of metal."
"Yeah." She breathed out a laugh. "But those people live together, Josh."
"You're right. We can move your stuff in this weekend. I can get Quinn to help. We can get dishes and a table next weekend. And a strainer. You don't even want to know what I had to do to strain the noodles," I said, hoping to God she didn't freak out.
Avery dropped her fork, her mouth gaping open. "Seriously?"
"I mean, I'd have to ask him first, but he wouldn't mind helping out if he doesn't have plans with Deb."
"So, you're going to ask Quinn. How about asking me first?"
My heart felt like it seized. I slowly turned to her, swallowing hard. "Avery," I began, nervous as hell. "Move in with me."
She placed her small hands on either side of my face. "On one condition."
"Name it."
"My apartment is at least ten years younger. How about you move in with me?"
"Yeah," I said without hesitation.
"Maybe we should think about this for a week or so. We shouldn't make a decision like this without really thinking it over."
"Avery, I've thought about it. A lot."
"You have?"
"You haven't?" I asked, feeling nervous all over again.
"It's a big step."
"I know this is what I want. I don't wanna waste any more time."
"Living together can really be hard on a relationship."
"I'm starting to wonder if it's you who isn't sure about us."
"It's not us I'm unsure of. It's the living together, family ... the entire idea just makes me nervous. I don't have a lot of good experience with family."
"You have me," I said, feeling hurt. Avery was all the family I'd ever needed, and as far as I was concerned, we already were. "We can make family a good memory for us, Avery. I thought that's what we've been doing."
Her shoulders sank. This was so unlike Avery that I wasn't sure what to do. I had known from the beginning a relationship with me scared her, but after everything, I'd thought we were past that.
I lifted her chin with my finger, forcing her to look me in the eye. "What can I do?
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not giving up, so tell me what I need to do to make you okay with this."
"There's so much we don't know about each other. I haven't even met your parents."
I visibly cringed. I wasn't expecting that at all. "Avery, that's not a good idea."
"Are you ashamed of me?" she asked.
"What? No, hell no," I said.
"Then why?"
"It's hard to explain," I said.
"Something I'd have to see for myself?" she asked.
I closed my eyes. "You don't know what you're asking."
"How are we supposed to live together if you don't trust me to love you? I'm not going to judge you because of your parents, Josh. I know you don't judge me because of mine."
My eyebrows pulled in. "Your parents died, Avery. How could I judge you for that?"
"Because I lived, and they didn't."
I blinked then shook my head. "Don't say that. It was an accident."
"So was ours, but it's still my fault. Don't think I don't remember pulling out on a red light."
"Stop," I said, watching her eyes gloss over. "I don't want you to blame yourself for either. What good would it have done if you'd died with your parents? They wouldn't have wanted that, Avery."
"I know," she said, picking at her nails. "But I thought you'd understand."
"Understand what?"
"Feeling guilty. We were both kids."
I stood. "Oh, no. You can't compare the two. And this isn't about me."
She reached for me, but missed.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Bring up my sister to avoid talking about your parents." I felt my cheeks warm, and I began to pace. It was a strange feeling, wanting to hold her and walk out at the same time.
She shook her head. "That's not what I'm doing."
"You sure?"
She blinked, looking around the room, as if the answer were in the corners. "I would be a horrible person if I were."
"You've been doing it your whole life, Avery. I know exactly how it is. I don't blame you, but you have to stop."
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking.
"You don't like talking about them. You've barely said a word about them, but you can talk to me."
"What else should I say?"
"That you miss them. How it affects your life now. How it affects us."
She lifted her hands and let them slap against her thighs. "I miss them. Being forced to let them go made it impossible to hold on to anything. I could let go of Deb, my job. I could let go of you--right now, if I wanted--and not bat an eye." She covered her mouth, shocked at her own admission.
A shot of adrenaline rushed through me. "Avery ..." My teeth clenched. "Do you love me?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation.
Every one of my muscles relaxed, and then I pointed at her phone. "Call work. You'll need a four-day weekend."
Her hands slowly lowered from her face. "Why?"
"I'm taking you to Savannah to meet my parents."
Avery was fidgeting with her yellow skirt that hung just below her knees. She was nervous about meeting my mother, and the icy road conditions did little to calm her fears.
Thankfully, we were heading south, where ice and snow wouldn't be an issue.
"Are you sure this is okay?" she asked for the tenth time as I pulled off the highway, into a gas station.
"Yes."
I could feel her watching me as I put the car into park next to a pump.
"You've barely said anything in the last hour," she said.
"Sorry. I've been thinking."
"About what?"
I sighed loudly, rolling my neck from side to side, needing to stretch my stiff muscles. "A lot of stuff, baby. Do you mind getting us snacks?"
She thought for a moment before she smiled and shook her head, causing her messy bun to bob back and forth.
I handed her a twenty from my wallet. "Could you grab me a vanilla Frappuccino while you're at it?"
Avery took the bill from my fingers and pushed open her door. She walked across the lot, giving me a reprieve from her line of questioning. A couple of guys noticed her tiny skirt that was barely visible beneath my Adidas hoodie, and I bristled.
I got out of the car and began pumping gas while watching Avery through the large glass window of the gas station. She hated road trips, but she was excited to drive down with me to meet my family. I struggled to create a better memory for her, knowing what waited for us in Richmond Hill. I was dreading having to see my mother again. Last time I had been home, she was falling down and incoherent for the majority of my visit. But, if enduring her for a few days would make Avery happy, then I would gladly suffer through her presence.
While I waited for my tank to fill, I pulled out my cell phone and called my mom. After several rings, she answered, uncertainty in her tone.
"Hello?"
I squinted one eye, already regretting the call.
"Hello?" she said again.
"I'm coming home for the weekend," I blurted out.
"Josh? This weekend? You could have let me know a few days ago. The house is a mess." I rolled my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. My mother hadn't cleaned her own home in years. She paid someone to come do it every few weeks.
"I'm not worried about the house. I'm bringing a friend." I glanced up at the window to see Avery standing at the cash register, waiting to pay. "Is that going to be a problem?"
She was silent for a moment before responding.
"Of course not. Your friends are always welcome here."
I mumbled a good-bye before disconnecting the call.
Avery returned, smiling brightly with her hand
s loaded with candy. "I thought you said it would be warm when we hit South Carolina?"
"I said it would be warmer. I told you not to wear a dress."
She narrowed her eyes as she handed me my drink and made her way to her side of the car, slipping inside.
I hung the gas nozzle back on the pump and pressed the heels of my hands against the top of the car. I needed a second to get my head right before climbing into the car next to the girl I was trying to marry.
"I just wanted to look good for your parents."
Rubbing my palm against my stubbled jaw, I spoke without looking at her. "I know, baby. I'm just ... a little stressed."
"If you don't want me to meet your parents--"
"It's not that, Avery. It's my mom. She's going to make this weekend hell."
"I can handle one weekend." She touched my leg. "Nothing she can do will ever change the way I feel about you. You know that, right?"
I recoiled from Avery's sympathetic frown. Her feeling sorry for me was the last thing I wanted. I didn't want her settling for the pathetic paramedic with a sad story instead of choosing Italian leather and a house in Alapocas. Even if she didn't want to admit it, that fantasy sparkled in her eyes every time she looked at Doc Rose.
"Josh," she prompted.
"I may have ... downplayed Mom's drinking problem. Last time I saw her, she could barely function."
"Oh ..." She fell silent.
"It's okay, Avery. You didn't know. I didn't tell you how bad it was. I haven't told anyone," I said, sighing.
"Josh--"
"It's not a big deal, Avery. I should have told you. It's just a tough topic."
"But it is ... a big deal," she said. "If you want to talk more about it, you can trust me." She blinked her big green eyes, hopeful.
From the beginning, my past had been off limits. To Avery, talking things out made everything better. "Trust has nothing to do with it. I just don't want to keep reliving it."
She opened her mouth to speak, but saw me readjusting my grip on the steering wheel. I started the car and headed to the on-ramp of I-95.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push."
"I know you want to help, baby, but there isn't much to say."
"You're stressed. I just thought that maybe talking about your mom would make you less worried about seeing her."
Stepping on the gas, I hurried to get up to speed with the other drivers. I drifted in and out of the passing lane as my memory was assaulted by visions of my childhood.
"She never recovered from losing Kayla. Their marriage suffered because of it. Nothing was the same after that. It was bad, and then it got worse. A lot worse. She turned to vodka, and he turned to other women."
Avery's fingers pressed into my leg. "That's awful."
I tossed those words around in my mind. Awful. Was it? She had checked out of our lives years ago. Not only had she withdrawn from me when we lost Kayla, but she had completely ignored my father. He was hurting too, and she had forced him to grieve alone. I didn't blame him for seeking companionship from other women. He had suffered as much as she had, but he had been forgotten.
"He never blamed me. Not once."
"Because you were a little boy, Josh."
"They should have gotten a divorce a lot sooner than they did," I said, picking at the steering wheel.
"Maybe they were afraid to lose anyone else."
I glanced over at her, seeing a familiar, old hurt in her eyes. "Dad was finally able to make peace with the fact that his family could never be the same. That's when he bought our first Mopar, a sixty-eight Dart GTS in Rallye Red with a 383 Magnum. We worked on it together every free moment we had. She was beautiful. When she was finished, Dad sold it and bought a sixty-nine Frost Green Road Runner with a big-block. We found comfort in restoring old cars. It was cheap therapy. I don't know what I would have done without my dad."
"Do you have to see your mom every time you visit your dad?"
"No, I guess not, but I feel like I should. She makes it harder than it has to be. She blames me, with every drink, every glare, every breath. Probably why I don't come home as often as Dad would like."
Avery covered her mouth and shook her head. "I am an asshole. I should have talked to you more before insisting we come here."
I offered a small grin. "You were right, though. You need to know what you're dealing with before you shack up with me."
"That's not why," she said, shaking her head. "I just thought maybe ... if I met them, somehow things would get better. That's stupid, I know." She became more flustered with every word.
I looked over at her, her cheeks pink, her eyes glossed over. I was complaining about having parents when she didn't have any.
"Jesus, Avery. I'm the asshole." I took her hand in mine, pulling it to my lips and pressing a kiss to her fingers.
"No, I get it."
"You ... you wanna ..."
"Talk about it?" she asked with a knowing look. She raised an eyebrow. Damn it if she wasn't rubbing off on me.
I shook my head and squeezed her hand. "I'm just nervous. You know that, right? I'm honestly not purposefully being a dick to you. If I didn't think it was important, I wouldn't be so worried."
"You're supposed to be trusting me," she said, squeezing back.
I glanced over at her and then let my shoulders relax. "Okay. Let's do this."
She beamed, and I pressed my foot on the gas.
"I wasn't sure you were really coming," Mom said as we stepped inside the living room. I could tell she was as nervous as I was, and the smell of bourbon wafting in the air around her didn't escape me.
The paint, carpet, and furniture still looked the way it had when I lived there.
"Mom, this is Avery. Avery, this is my mother, Mary."
Mom grinned, pulling Avery in for a tight hug. "You are a pretty little thing," she said as she pulled back, looking her over.
I could tell Mom was shocked that the friend I had brought home was female. I could have told her I was seeing someone, but I hadn't called her since the accident.
"Pleasure to meet you." Avery's voice shook, but she kept a smile on her face. It occurred to me why she was nervous. She wasn't judging me, or even my parents. She wanted this to be perfect because she loved me. Guilt panged in my gut from what a jerk I had been for most of the trip.
"I expected you earlier," Mom said as she made her way toward the kitchen. I slid my fingers in Avery's and gave her hand a gentle squeeze as we followed. Mom's back was to us, but I could tell by the sound of glass clinking she was refreshing her drink.
"You didn't know I was coming until a few hours ago."
"It's my fault. I made him stop at least a dozen times," Avery said.
Mom smiled at Avery, but once she glanced in my direction, her lips pressed into a hard line.
"Well, at least you made it." She shook her head in disapproval as she picked up a tea towel, folded it, and dropped it back on the table.
"Did we miss dinner?" I asked, rubbing my thumb over the back of Avery's hand.
Mom laughed. "You know I don't cook."
"I'll order something, then. We haven't eaten. You have a menu for Wok n Roll?"
Mom pulled open a kitchen drawer, sifting through a few menus before holding one out to me. Avery's eyes lit up at the thought of Japanese food.
"They don't deliver anymore. You'll have to pick it up," Mom spoke as she swirled the amber liquid in her glass.
"No problem."
"Are you hungry?" Avery asked, her voice almost shrill.
"Whatever," Mom said, waving us away. "Just something, I'm not picky."
I pulled Avery from the house, unable to walk fast enough. Once we sat in the car, Avery touched my knee.
"You okay?"
I nodded, pulling back my cheeks to form some sort of a smile.
"You don't have to pretend for me. It's okay. We can leave if you want."
I looked down. "If you're looking to marry into a new fa
mily, mine isn't it, Avery. I shouldn't try to cheat you out of that."
"You're my family, remember? And I'm yours."
I kissed her knuckles and started the engine, pulling out of the drive and onto the road. "We should stop by Dad's."
"Is he close?" Avery asked.
I breathed out a laugh. "Just down the road."
She smiled, and I made a detour to my father's home. I hadn't let him know I was coming. Part of me had been afraid that after Avery met my mom, she'd want to go home.
When I pulled off the main road onto the dirt path leading to his trailer, I felt like I had been gone too long. I grabbed Avery's hand and squeezed.
"You look happy," she observed with a surprised grin. "Thinking about dinner?"
I parked my car next to my dad's flat-black Impala and turned off the engine. "But you're getting ready to meet the best damn cook this side of the Mason-Dixon."
My father stepped out onto his porch as we exited the vehicle, his grin widening as he recognized who had come to see him.
"My boy," he called out proudly as he hurried toward me with open arms. I grunted as he pulled me in for a bear hug that knocked the air from my lungs.
"And who is this?" he asked as he pulled back from our embrace.
"Dad, this is Avery. Avery, this is Silas, my father."
"Wow," she said. "The resemblance is incredible."
"Your name is Avery?" Dad asked, fighting a laugh. "You've got to be shittin' me."
"God has a sense of humor," I said.
"He sure does. That's how you got this ugly mug," he shot back, winking at Avery.
The worry in her eyes had all but disappeared, and she seemed more like the girl I'd fallen in love with.
"We don't look that much alike," I said. "My hair isn't gray." I laughed as my father hit me lightly on the chest with the back of his hand.
"Watch it, boy. I can still kick your ass," my father warned. He grabbed Avery in a playful hug, lifting her from the ground as she squealed.
"You wish, old man."
With Avery's feet firmly planted back on the grass, we fell silent as he took us in.
"It's been too long, Josh."
"I know." I nodded in agreement as I looked over his old Impala.
"But I see you've been taking care of Mabeline." He nodded his chin toward my car. "I must have taught you somethin' right."
"Avery, if he's half as good to you as he is to that car, you're one lucky lady."
She looped her arm in mine and snuggled against my side, and I felt a little taller, seeing her so happy, and maybe even a little relieved to be around my dad.