"He’s notthat person, Mom. You need to trust me. But yes. I mean, no. I don’twantto marry him, but I want a career once this tour is finished. My manager and my label don’t see any other way. Besides, I’ve signed a contract, so there’s no backing out." I laugh awkwardly, wiping last night’s leftover mascara off my eyes.
There’s a long pause, and I tap my screen to make sure she’s still there, before she finally sighs. "You’re an adult, Olive. You’re completely capable of making your own decisions, but this one hurts a little. Can we come?" And there’s the sniffle she’s been holding back, finally falling out of her.
The reality is that her youngest daughter is getting married, and she won’t be there to witness it.
Fake or not.
"It’s happening in a month, Mom. Cassandra needs you, Willow needs you. That alone is more important than a fake wedding."
"I get it. Really, I do." She doesn’t, and her heart is shattered. I give it two hours before my sisters are blowing up our group chat with a million questions, making me feel guilty.
"I have to go, Mom. I love you," I tell her, right as a knock sounds on the bathroom door.
"I love you more." The line goes dead, and I push off the vanity, steadying myself, before I open the door to my very shirtless, welcomed guest.
"Avery?" I ask, my brows furrowed as I take him in, the door wide open as he rests with his arm up top of the frame.
Tall and broad, with light gray sweatpants that should be illegal. "What are you doing awake?" He looks over my shoulder, and my stomach drops when I realize what it is he sees.
Sharps container. Alcohol wipes. A syringe I forgot to dispose of.
Fuck.
I step out of the bathroom and close the door behind me.
"I could hear talking. I wanted to see if you were alright." He takes me in, wearing tiny pajama shorts I’d packed in my overnight bag, and a bralette I threw on to cover myself up a little, giving myself easy access to my stomach.
"I’m alright." I sigh.
He keeps looking over my shoulder, and I think of a million different excuses I could throw his way, and hope he believes me. Just when I think he’s about to ask what it all was, he says, "We should start getting ready to head out."
I realize I braced myself for nothing.
Is he not a nosy person, or does he just not care enough to ask?
He can’t know what it is just by looking at it, can he? The medical terminology is written too small on the casing of the needle for him to know.
I want him to ask, so I don’t need to lie about it.The logical part of my brain tries to cut through, but I swallow it down by verbalizing the words I refuse to consider.
"It’s not what you think."
"I’m not going to ask. You can tell me about it when you’re ready. Go get dressed, we have an appointment with my jeweler in…" He trails off, checking the Apple Watch on his left wrist. "An hour. Takes fifteen to get there. I’ve closed the store down for the morning, and Noelle will be here in three, two—" Righton one, a knock sounds at the door. I take that as my cue to leave the bathroom and make myself presentable.
"You answer that. I only need a few minutes." I smile weakly at him, hurrying down the hallway, heart beating in my throat. My fingertips twitch, while those tiny pulses are erratic all over my skin. I pause at my door. "Avery?" I say in a whisper. "Could you maybe not tell anyone about what you just saw?"
"Lips are sealed, Songbird. Now go. We have an engagement ring to buy, and a hockey game to attend." He wiggles his brows, amusement painted all over his face, and I feel like I can breathe a little lighter knowing a part of my secret is still safe.
For how long, who knows?
Muffled voices echo around his kitchen, and by the sound of things, Noelle is a little too eager to hear that her brother is getting married soon, but disappointed to find out she isn’t invited. I walk out of the guest room just as she says, "Mom is going to be so excited and pissed at the same time. You know she’s going to ask when she’s getting a grandchild, right? And now you’re going to dangle it in front of her face, only for it to be a total lie."
Avery rolls his eyes, ushering both of us out of the door. Noelle is snickering to herself, while I rub my clammy hands down my thighs.
Have I mentioned how exhausted I am?
***
"What about this one?" The jeweler asks. I think her name tag reads Romi, but if I’m honest, I haven’t bothered to pay too much attention.
