by Lexi Ryan
“Hi,” Noah says, waving to me.
“Noah,” Molly says, pointing into the apartment, “I need you to stay inside.”
“It’s a girl cartoon.” He pouts. “I wanted Pider-Man. I don’t like My Wittle Ponies.”
“Then play with your trains until I get in there.” Her voice is stern, and she spares a panicked glance in my direction before pointing into the apartment again. “Please, Noah. I only need another minute.”
“Bye,” Noah says before scurrying into the apartment and shutting the door behind him.
“He’s a McKinley.” No wonder she didn’t want me to see him. Holy shit. It’s so clear.
“Of course he is. He’s my son.”
I shake my head. That’s not what I mean, and she knows it. Molly is only a McKinley because Ava’s father adopted her. Noah is a McKinley by birth. It’s all over his face.
“It’s none of your business, Jake. Please stay out of it. Go home to Ava. Tell her you’re madly in love with her and make beautiful babies together. Don’t worry about me and Noah.”
“You’re sure you don’t want his father to know?”
“Noah doesn’t have a father,” she says firmly. “Just a mommy, and he and his mommy are doing just fine.” She takes my hand, and vulnerability creeps into her eyes for the first time when she says, “Please don’t do anything that might change that.”
It’s the desperation in her eyes that makes me understand her secret. Holy shit. “The secret is yours to keep or tell,” I promise. “You don’t have to worry about me, but soon enough, word is going to spread that you have a child.”
“Let it spread.” She shrugs, but I see the worry on her face. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like you feel sorry for me. I don’t want your pity.”
She has it whether she wants it or not. “Let me help you.”
“You already helped when you gave me a job.”
“But surely you need more than that. Let me get you caught up on rent, or—”
She shakes her head as she laughs. “Ava’s right. You are a fixer, aren’t you?”
“I’m not offering anything she wouldn’t.”
She sighs heavily. “Not every problem is yours, Jake. This one is mine, and mine alone. I made my choices, and I’ll deal with them.”
Ava
“Florida’s nice,” Colton says. “Actually, Ellie and I looked at relocating there.”
“Really? When?”
“After Dad brought up the possibility of you moving. Ell hates the winters here, and it would be nice to be closer to Mom.”
“It would.” Two days ago, I walked out of Jake’s apartment, and yesterday, I scheduled my face-to-face interview with Seaside Community Schools. Even though I keep telling myself it’s the right move to make, it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around the idea of leaving Jackson Harbor. This has been my home forever, and I’ve passed up any chance I’ve had to leave before because . . . because I was marrying Harrison, and we wanted to raise our family here.
What would I be losing if I left now?
Jake.
I clutch my stomach where the gnawing ache has been hovering all day. I’ve already lost Jake. I lost him the moment he touched Molly, and I think he knew that. That’s why he never told me that it happened.
When my brother came over this afternoon, I decided I didn’t want to tell him any more about what was going on between me and Jake than Ellie already had. Ellie told Colton that Jake and I had decided to step back and slow down. Colton was totally on board with that. I think the rest can wait—for Jake’s protection, because Colton would go after him with fists flying, and for Colton’s, because the last thing he needs is another offense on his record.
Maybe Molly was being honest with Jake, and the baby’s not his. While I don’t want to be the woman who can’t get over her jealousy, I know Molly and Jake’s night together will never be easy to swallow. But worse, I’ve realized I’d resigned myself to a life without teaching drama classes or helping kids find themselves through theater. I’d subconsciously begun making plans to pick up more hours at Jackson Brews so I wouldn’t have to leave Jake.
When I realized that, I called Penelope and told her I wanted to schedule an interview for what appears to be my dream job. She was thrilled, but before we got off the phone, I blurted, “I might be pregnant.”
Once the words were out there, I couldn’t take them back. There was a long moment of silence, and my stomach was lodged in my throat while I waited for her to respond. Did I want her to rescind her offer? Or did I want her permission to have my cake and eat it too?
“Well, congratulations,” Penelope finally said. To her credit, she didn’t ask about the father. “We have a fantastic benefits package, and you’d have twelve weeks of maternity leave. Normally, you’d have to be with us twelve months for that benefit to apply, but perhaps that’s something we could negotiate with your contract.”
“It wouldn’t interfere with my ability to launch the summer theater program for next season,” I said, hearing the question in her voice.
“That’s wonderful to hear. We can talk more about some flextime perks when you come down, but please don’t think that we value working mothers less than any other employees.”
And just like that, all my excuses for pushing my plans to the side fizzled away.
“Let me know what you decide,” Colton says now. “If you move down there, maybe Ellie and I can do it at the same time and make it easier on all of us.”
“Colton, that’s crazy. You can’t just up and leave your team so I don’t have to move alone.”
He chuckles and refills his coffee. “It’s cute that you think I’d be doing it for you. The only reason I ever moved back here was because Dad would only pay my tuition if he could keep tabs on me. Then when I started training with Levi, it didn’t make sense to leave.” He shrugs. “I’m ready to go back to Florida. It’s cold as balls here in the winter, and I’m so over it.”
“It might not be Florida,” I admit. “I’m applying for jobs all over. I’m applying for anything that’s mostly drama and theater.”
“Good for you, sis.” He nods. “I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks.” I look down at the list of supplies I’ve been making for summer theater and shake my head. Everything seems so hard right now, but I remember how debilitated I felt after Harrison left me. If I just take it one day at a time, I’ll be okay.
Ellie’s heels click in the hall at the front of the house. “Anybody home?”
“We’re in the kitchen,” I call.
She comes around the corner and grins when she sees Colt. “Hey, you.”
He looks her over slowly—from the roots of her dark hair down to her three-inch black heels—and grins. “Damn, girl.”
She practically glows under his appraisal, but she waves him off and turns to me. “You hear from Jake yet?”
I nod. “He’s called a couple of times. Texted a couple more.” I grab my phone off the counter and hand it to her, so she can read the messages for herself. Not that there’s much to read. I could probably recite our profound exchanges if I needed to.
Jake: You home?
Me: No.
Jake: When can we talk?
Me: Give me space.
“He’s sure about this?” Ellie asks, eyebrow raised. “Like, totally positive?”
I frown at her. “Sure about what?”
She turns the phone so I can see it, and I see that I’ve missed the latest text.
Jake: Noah isn’t mine. I went to NYC to find out for myself. Please call me.
“Who’s Noah?” Colton asks.
“Don’t read people’s private messages over their shoulders,” Ellie says.
My chest is a tangled mixture of relief and heartache.
The child isn’t his.
He went to New York.
What did he do while he was in New York? Did he and Molly hang out? Did they reconnect? Did she explain to
him why she’s kept this secret? Does she even care that she’s widened this fissure between us? Did he feel anything for her while he was there?
The child isn’t his.
“Who’s Noah?” Colton snaps.
Ellie flashes me an apologetic wince. “Noah is Molly’s son. No one knew about him.”
He stares at Ellie like she just sprouted a couple more heads. “Molly?”
“Molly McKinley? Your stepsister?”
Colton scowls. “Molly doesn’t have a son.”
Ellie rolls her eyes. “Did you miss the part where I said no one knew about him? The kid’s four years old, and Jake thought he might be the father.”
“The fuck?” Colton’s jaw goes tight, and his eyes blaze with anger. “I’m pretty sure Jackson wants me to bloody his face.”
“Don’t,” I say. “It was years ago.”
“And the kid isn’t his,” Ellie says, pointing to the screen. She shifts her worried eyes to meet mine. “Does that make this all better?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.” It’s not that simple. “Even if Noah isn’t his—and forgive me if I’m skeptical—Jake still hurt me.”
Colton shakes his head. “Leave it to Molly to keep a kid secret from the whole damn world.”
Ellie turns to me. “Okay. Now we know that she’s sticking to her story. What’s next?”
I shrug. “Next, I need to find a job in case moving to Florida doesn’t pan out.”
She nods and heads to where my laptop is sitting on the table. “Let’s get to it.”
Jake
I have a key to Ava’s, so although I’m not breaking any laws when I let myself in on Friday night, I’m definitely in ethically shady territory. She won’t return my calls, and her responses to my text messages are monosyllabic more often than not. Then tonight, Lilly came home from play practice, chattering on as she always is, and said Miss Ava is spending her weekend in Florida. “Isn’t she lucky?”
Florida. Seaside Community Schools and the job I’d pushed from my mind as the least of my worries. Suddenly, it’s jumped to the top of that list.
She’s on her couch with her computer on her lap and her headphones over her ears. She jumps when I come into the living room. Her eyes widen, and she yanks the headphones off. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m making you talk to me.”
She shrugs and puts her computer on the end table. “Okay. Talk.”
Hope is a bubble in my throat, and now that she’s in front of me, it all feels so fragile. Now that I’m here, I’m afraid my words will be met with the anger still so clear in her eyes.
I’m not sure where to start. “Noah isn’t mine.”
“That’s what you said in your text.”
“Molly said we never slept together that night.”
A flicker of something—hope? understanding?—brightens her expression, but I see the moment she snuffs it out. “She said you didn’t, or you didn’t?”
I wince. “I don’t remember, but I believe her.” I sink to my knees in front of her, taking her hands in mine. “I was so screwed up, Ava. I’d finally worked up the courage to tell you how I felt, and you shot me down. You told me I didn’t know my own feelings, and then you told me to leave.”
She looks down at our joined hands as if she’s trying to figure out what she’s seeing. “I can’t blame you for what you did with Molly.”
“Why not? I do. It was reckless and stupid.”
She nods and pulls her hands from mine. “Rationally, I know you weren’t betraying me when you took her home.” She presses her hand against her chest. “But this feeling in here isn’t about rational. In fact, it’s the opposite of rational thought, and when it comes to how I feel about you—about us—it matters just as much.”
I take the hand from her chest and press it to mine. “What about this feeling in here? What about this heart that beats for you?” Averting her eyes, she gently pulls away, and I let her. “We’ll get through this.”
“I can’t . . . I’m not ready.”
“When will you be ready?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know if I ever will, but I need you to give me space while I figure out my life.”
“Your life in Florida? I’m supposed to sit back and watch you put together a life for yourself a thousand miles away?” I shake my head. “No. I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I’ve slept without you in my arms for three nights. That’s three nights more than I needed to know you belong there. I love you.” I put my hands on her knees and squeeze. “Look at me. Tell me what it’s going to take to make this right.”
“I love you too.” The words should feel so good to hear, but they don’t. Not in this context when they’re more like a reluctant admission than a gift. As if her love is a difficult fact she has to deal with instead of something that’s lifting her up. “And I loved Harrison.”
I grimace at the mention of his name. It kills me that I’ve done anything that makes Ava put me in the same category as him. “I’m not Harrison.”
“You’re not. He found someone prettier and younger, a woman who could give him children. I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t leave me like he did. You wouldn’t push me aside for someone else.”
“Of course I wouldn’t.”
She closes her eyes. “But maybe that’s exactly why I should move, Jake. What’s here for me? All I have in Jackson Harbor is a father who disapproves of most of my life choices, and an ex-husband whose new wife is having the baby I wanted to have so badly.”
“The Jacksons are here.” I stand. I’m too frustrated to be still while she feeds me this bullshit. “Don’t you dare act like you don’t have a real family. We’ve been your family your whole life. My mom loves you like her own, and my brothers and Shay love you like you’re their sister.” I thump my chest with my fist. “And I can’t let you go.”
“I need you to,” she whispers. She pushes off the couch, and for the first time since I walked in the door, she touches me. It’s brief, her fingertips across the stubble of my week-old beard, but I feel it with every cell in my body. “I believe you when you say you’ll do anything for me. You’ve proven that over and over again. That’s why I think me leaving might be for the best.”
“Leave if you need to. Leave if that is what will make you happy. But don’t you dare tell yourself it’s what’s best for me.”
“Even if it’s true?” she whispers. She slowly turns and walks to the front door, opening it before turning back to me. “I can’t be with you right now.”
Ava
“Do you want me to go up with you?” Ellie asks as I look up at Molly’s apartment building in Brooklyn.
“No. I need to do this by myself.”
Two weeks ago, I was in Florida interviewing for what is, on the surface, my dream job. I hadn’t been down there for twelve hours before I knew I couldn’t take the position. Seaside is lovely, but it’s not home. I don’t want to leave Jackson Harbor for the position, because no job is perfect if it takes me from the town I love. I did the interview and spent time with Mom, and when I left, it was knowing I’d truly considered it but that the move wasn’t right for me.
Today, I’m in New York because Jake insisted I still take the trip to see Hamilton. Even if I did it without him. When I found the plane tickets and hotel reservations in my mailbox, I missed him so acutely that I could hardly breathe. When I sat through the production last night, I could hardly see through my tears. We were supposed to take this trip together. He was supposed to be by my side as I checked off the incredible bucket-list item of seeing Hamilton on Broadway.
He’s been giving me space, just like I asked, and I’ve hated it. I miss my nights at Jackson Brews and surprise visits from Jake during theater rehearsals. I miss our shared laughter and the heat of his eyes on me. If I could rewind to before I knew about Noah and Molly, I’d relive the weekend at the cabin on repeat.
My hand goes to my stomach and I swallow hard, wonde
ring for the hundredth time today if there’s a chance I might be pregnant.
Ellie squeezes my hand. “I saw a coffee shop around the corner. Come find me when you’re ready.”
I nod and let her go, taking a deep breath before going into the building and climbing the stairs. I hesitate at her door, mustering all my courage to knock.
The little boy who opens the door steals my breath. “Hello?”
“Noah!” Molly races up behind him. “Baby, you know you’re not supposed to answer the door without me.”
She doesn’t register it’s me for a few moments, and the seconds stretch between us, full of silence because I’m still staring at Noah. My nephew. He’s beautiful, and my heart feels too big for my chest as I try to take him in, to memorize his perfect face.
He’s not a Jackson. I didn’t realize I still doubted it.
I sink down to my haunches and offer him my hand. “Hey there. I’m Ava.”
“I Noah,” he says with a toothy grin.
“I’m Noah,” Molly corrects him.
Noah giggles. “No, you Mommy.”
Shaking her head, Molly sighs and holds the door open wide. “You might as well come on in, Ava.”
“Thanks.” I follow her into the little apartment. It’s small but nice—clean and tidy, with the modern industrial flair of exposed brick and piping overhead. Noah stops in the living room, a space with a couch and a chair, and a toy train track on the rug in the middle.
Molly leads me to a round table with four chairs in the kitchen. “Coffee?”
I nod, then think better of it. I’ve been cutting down on caffeine . . . just in case. “Decaf?”
She makes a face. “That’s against my religion. Water?”
I laugh. “Yeah, water’s fine.”
She fills a glass from the tap for me and fills a mug with coffee for herself, bringing both to the table. “Now you know my secret.”