Afterward, his mother had said, “Why don’t we all give a little toast for Holden?”
His brothers had looked at each other briefly, but then all gazes had focused on Avery, whose cheeks had gone bright red.
“Maybe not. I didn’t bring my joke book.” Avery had desperately tried to get out of it, but his mother had insisted.
“Oh no, we have to. It’s a very special day. I’m sure Tom would have appreciated it if we’d done this for him.” She had stared down at the eldest Morris boy, who had exchanged weary glances with his then-girlfriend.
“Avery, why don’t you go first?” his mother had asked.
Avery had glanced around the table, then stood, making the American flag stretched across her T-shirt even more apparent to the table at large. She had cleared her throat, then had looked down at Holden. “Go get ’em, sport.”
Then, without pause, she had settled back into her chair. His mother had looked at Avery for a long moment, appraising her with her usual air of cool displeasure, then had stood and launched into the most heartfelt pledge he’d ever heard.
And Holden knew why. She’d prepared it. In fact, she’d arranged this very moment to show him—and Avery—who belonged at the table and who didn’t. And by the end of that night? It had been obvious that Avery had gotten the message loud and clear.
So, what could he do now? Sneak off and pretend they weren’t coming? Make excuses for Avery to avoid them?
No, if his plan was going to work, he was going to have to go all in.
And Avery would, too.
Chapter Ten
Avery ran her fingers through her damp hair then squirted some shampoo into her palm and lathered her head with the too-sweet coconut rinse she always favored. It was the cheap stuff—the kind her mother had always brought home on the rare occasions when she’d gone to the grocery store—and every time Avery smelled it, she was torn between wanting to be reminded of her youthful summers with Holden and feeling the urge to buy something that an adult would actually use.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and tried to think of what she’d do with him today. The past few days had been a whirlwind for sure, and she was already beginning to run out of steam. There were only so many roller rinks or bungee jumping spots in the city, and knowing Holden, he wasn’t going to allow her to hold the reins for much longer.
That look in his eyes—the one that got all soft and thoughtful—was showing up more and more, and a few times, it had seemed like he was on the point of saying something she knew she didn’t want to hear.
Swallowing hard, she rinsed her hair and then stepped from the shower, too distracted to bother with conditioner today. Absently, she glanced at the phone on the corner of the sink and thought about what Myla might be doing. No doubt her friend was snuggled close to her boyfriend or pinning more ideas to her wedding board in Pinterest. She probably had that goofy, lovey-dovey expression on her face, and Lord only knew what her advice to Avery would be. Probably something like “follow your heart” or some other kind of romantic crap.
What if my heart wants to play dead? What then?
She was on the point of sending Myla a message when she put the phone back down again and grabbed her towel instead.
She was making a mountain out of a molehill. Holden hadn’t said or done anything
So they’d slept in the same bed. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done that before.
So his kiss felt more tender than she remembered. A kiss was just a kiss.
And that look he got in his eyes? That could all just be in her head.
She knew the right thing to do, and that was to relax and enjoy these last few days before he left again. So he had a plan? Fine. That didn’t mean he’d asked her to be part of it.
She glanced at the phone again, and it buzzed on the ceramic counter, skittering closer to her toothbrush. Picking it up, she expected to see Myla’s name flash across the screen, but instead it was an email notification.
“Shit,” she murmured, the knot in her stomach tightening. “It’s probably nothing, though.”
She’d checked the damn thing every three seconds for days now, and it still hadn’t been anything from the gallery—not even the polite form letter informing her that she was, in fact, a talentless loser. Odds were, this was just another chain message from her mother letting her know that if she didn’t forward it to twenty-five people, the ghost of an ax murderer was going to ruin all her kitchen appliances.
Sliding her thumb over the message, she glanced at her inbox.
In big, bold letters, there was a message that said Congratulations from the Elemental Gallery of San Diego.
Her heart jumped into her throat and she tapped the screen, her gaze zooming over the words so quickly that she had to read the message three times just to make sure it wasn’t all in her head.
Dear Ms. Forrester,
Thank you for offering your excellent work to our gallery. We would be honored to showcase your talent. While we are normally booked a few months in advance, a sudden cancellation has made it possible for us to offer you the chance to display your photographs in our gallery this weekend. If you would be so kind as to confirm your attendance, we will send along more details.
All the Best,
Gretta
Elemental Gallery, San Diego
Oh. My. God.
There were no words. No words at all.
Taking her silky pink robe from the back of the door, she wrapped it around herself and then stepped into the bedroom, trying to tamp down her excitement. It was stupid, really. Photographers got shown in galleries all the time.
So what if this was her first one?
And so what if half her excitement was due to the fact that Holden was here to share this moment with her? It didn’t mean anything.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and she sucked her lips in, unsure how to tell him the big news. He glanced up at her, his own phone in his hand, and then he tossed it aside and turned the full blinding force of his grin on her.
“Hey there,” he said.
“Hey.” She rubbed a towel through her hair, then dropped it to the floor and kicked it for good measure. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. Or afternoon. Sort of lost track of time today.” Holden shrugged.
“That’s okay. You can get back to pulling buses with your bare hands or whatever it is you do for training tomorrow.”
He laughed. “Actually, I have plans for tomorrow. And I hope you do, too.”
“Oh yeah?” That was less than expected. But her plan could wait until they talked. It was fine.
“Yeah.”
Avery stood in front of her dresser and surveyed her sea of makeup before finally selecting a concealer and getting started on her routine.
“My mother just called. She’s going to be in San Diego tomorrow.”
“Oh?” she asked, doing her best not to stab herself in the eye with her eyeliner just thinking about it.
After all, she wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to hang out with Holden’s family. She was proud of Holden and everything, and she knew he loved his brothers deeply. But one-on-one time with Mr. and Mrs. Killjoy?
No, thank you.
“You don’t want to go,” he said flatly.
“No, it’s not that. It’s, you know, I booked this thing already.”
“Thing?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I booked this thing for us to do. It’s nonrefundable and—”
“What time is this thing?” he asked.
“Um, it’s sort of an all-day event.”
“Is lunch included?”
“And breakfast. And, you know, dinner.”
“Wow, this really does take all day.”
“Yeah. It does.” She unscrewed her mascara and flicked the brush over her lashes, the gears of her mind working double time.
“And you’re not going to tell me what this thing is?” he asked.
“It’s a surpris
e.”
“Right.” She watched in the mirror as Holden laid back on the pillows behind him and let out a deep sigh. He’d never call her on the lie, not if he thought she really didn’t want to go. And yet…he looked so dejected.
“Does their sudden itch for sun and sand have anything to do with the fact that you’re spending all your precious home time with me?” she asked, smoothing gloss on her lips as she kept watch on him in the mirror.
He sat up a little straighter, the muscle of his bicep pulling as he moved. “They’ve never been the subtle types. But it might be nice to see them.”
“That sounds…it sounds nice. For you to be able to see them again.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek.
“Yeah, but if you’ve got other plans.”
“Oh, come on, you know I don’t have other plans.” She rolled her eyes.
“I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”
She turned and met his clear, dark gaze. She knew he was being 100 percent sincere, knew that if she said no right now, she’d never hear about his mother or her visit again. But she’d think about it. After all, she’d kept him from them, refused to be a part of something that clearly meant so much to him.
And if it meant that much…
“Okay, what the hell? Let’s do this.”
“Are you serious?” he asked. “You hate my mother.”
“I didn’t say I was going to be sober. I just said I would do it.”
For you.
She left the last part unspoken, but it still lingered in the air between them.
“Let’s not make this an all-day thing, though, okay? Dinner. It’ll be…fun.” As much fun as the Romanov family had that night they were massacred. Except they got to wear cool Russian hats first. She just had to sit there and let Holden’s mother verbally ice pick her over and over again.
Family.
“You’ve got a deal,” Holden said. Then he got up from the bed and dragged her back to the mattress along with him. “Now, forget your makeup. I’m only going to mess it up anyway.”
He opened her robe, and she breathed him in, torn between hating the idea of tomorrow and loving that she’d get to spend another day with him.
Chapter Eleven
Avery put the last glittery touch on her poster board then stood back and admired her handiwork. In huge, pink glittery letters, she’d made a sign that said, “Congratulations, Avery!”
It was sort of a little tradition she had when something good happened. She did it for birthdays and for Christmas, on months when she paid her bills ahead of schedule—the big milestones.
Today she’d gone all out, though.
From her ceiling, she’d tacked pink and white streamers and pink balloons littered the ground. Any minute, fast food would be arriving, and when they were finished eating, they’d dig into the cake she’d bought with “Congratulations, Avery” written across it in swirly magenta script.
In a way, she was glad she hadn’t gotten the chance to tell Holden her big news. It might be nice to have someone join in on her private little celebration. Of course, there was no doubt he’d think she was bananas, but that was half the fun of it anyway, right?
She hung the poster board above her couch, then stood back and admired it.
It truly was amazing what a few hours and a flair for arts and crafts could do.
The doorbell rang, and she skipped to the front door, pushing her hair over her shoulder. When she opened the door, she found Holden there, grinning at her with those damn irresistible hazel eyes of his.
“What’s all the fuss?” He looked around and then laughed when he caught sight of the sign.
“Did you manage to take the trash down on your own?” he asked, pointing to the congratulatory sign.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “No, I have big news.”
It felt silly, but she wanted to squeal, to take his hand or have him spin her around like they did in movies.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Do you remember that gallery we saw? Well, I took your advice and sent in my photos. They’re displaying them this weekend. Can you believe it?” This time she really did squeal, and heat poured into her cheeks. With a deep breath, she shrugged, trying to be just slightly cooler about the whole thing. “So, I thought we could have a casual celebration here.”
“That’s great. But you know, if you’d just told me, I would have done all of this for you. You didn’t have to do everything on your own.”
She blinked. That hadn’t occurred to her. “No, no, it’s fine. One trip to the dollar store and suddenly your home can be a piñata. Besides, you wouldn’t have had time. You had to get your parents from the airport. How are they?”
“I have no idea.” Holden shrugged. “I showed up to the airport and texted them a bunch, but they never came out of the terminal. I got a text from my mom a few minutes ago saying she’d handled it, and I came back here.”
Avery frowned. “How weird. Are you worried?”
“About them? No. I’m worried about whoever they roped into handling things for them, though.” Holden smiled, and his eyes softened. “I really wish you would have let me do something for you. If this works out, it could be the start of something big. Sell your photos to magazines instead of stock sites, you know?”
Her cheeks burned. “I don’t know about all that.”
“I do.” He took another step toward her, his lips only inches from hers. “Now, what kind of celebration did you have in mind?”
She winked. “I have some cake, but all the plates are dirty. So, we may have to find creative places to eat the cake off of. I was thinking I could start by putting frosting on your—”
A loud cough from the open door made them both spin around, and Avery froze as she recognized the curly white hair and familiar hazel eyes of the woman in the doorway. Her entire body seemed to be channeling all its energy into scowling at Avery.
“Mom,” Holden said. “What are you doing here?”
Mrs. Morris adjusted the broach in the middle of her Peter Pan collar, then straightened her shoulders. Like her sons, she was built from military stock—dutiful and structured. Which, Avery supposed, partly explained the sneer on her face as she took in the mess of streamers and balloons crowding the already small apartment. And the other part? Likely Avery herself—or the Bunny Ranch T-shirt she’d decided to don this morning.
“I came to see my son. I never heard from you, so I assumed you wouldn’t be at the airport. Your brother told us this might be the place to find you.”
“Where’s Dad?” Holden asked. He looked as if someone had just slapped him in the face.
Which, considering Avery felt like someone had jabbed her in the throat, seemed like a pretty decent alternative.
“I left him at the hotel. I wanted to see you and let you know we were in town. We reserved a spare room at the hotel, just in case, of course.” She flicked another weary look at Avery, then focused on her son. “I thought we might be able to spend some time together?”
“I would love to, Mom, but I thought we were only going to dinner. Avery—”
“Avery’s had you to herself all week. I’m sure she won’t protest losing you for a day.” It was obvious Holden’s mom was trying to keep from snapping the words, but they still had a clear crispness that was impossible to ignore. Mainly because this was the tone she always adopted when Avery was involved—not rude enough for anyone to accuse her of impropriety, but it couldn’t ever be mistaken for warmth or approval, either.
“It’s nice to see you, Mrs. Morris. You look well,” Avery said. Mrs. Morris looked at her as if she’d only just realized Avery was capable of speech.
“What do you say, Avery? You don’t mind, surely?”
Avery blinked and glanced at Holden, her throat somehow managing to constrain itself tighter. “No, not at all. It’s totally fine. Go with your mom, Holden. Spend time. I’ve got things to do to get ready for my o
pening at the gallery anyway.”
Mrs. Morris’s thin eyebrows shot up. “Gallery? What’s this?”
“It’s great news.” Holden beamed, then squeezed Avery’s shoulder. “Avery was just accepted to show her work in a prestigious gallery here in town. The exhibition will be this weekend.”
“Yes, if you’re still in town, you should come,” Avery added. This, everyone knew, was an empty invitation. It was like saying “we should get coffee sometime” or “sure, I’d love to give anal a try, and I’m sure it won’t hurt at all.” Nobody meant it, and nobody ever thought the other person did, either.
And that’s what made what Mrs. Morris did next that much more confounding.
“We’re in town all weekend. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She offered Avery a shark-toothed smile, then motioned for Holden. “Come on, now, darling. Are you ready to go?”
“Um…” He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Why don’t I come over in a little while?” He glanced at Avery helplessly.
She shrugged, not sure what she could do. When he turned to walk her out to their car, she smiled and waved to them, trying to pretend that she hadn’t just ruined what little time she had left with Holden.
She glanced at Rodrigo, who’d slept through all of the action, and frowned at him.
“Cats probably can’t eat cake, huh?” she asked.
She couldn’t say for sure, but she thought Rodrigo rolled his eyes.
FROM THE DIARY OF AVERY FORRESTER
There was a time once when I thought I was at the lowest point in my life.
It was the night of senior prom, and Myla’s mother had let me borrow one of her dresses to wear. It was black and sleek with shoulder pads I’d had to cut out of it, but when I was done pawing through the jewelry she’d let me wear, I thought I was the prettiest girl in class—maybe next to Myla who had somehow managed to contain her frizzy mess of curls in an elegant twist that night.
I was supposed to go to the dance with a crush of mine—Greg Simmons. He was a burnout, but his gray eyes were dreamy, and when he wrote poems in English class, I could tell his soul was deep. I wasn’t the only girl who thought so, either. He had lots of girls to choose from—but he’d decided to go with me.
One Week with the Marine (Love on Location) Page 8