Page 50 of My Weakness

“Dad…” I think it’s time I jump in. “He fought it, he tried to make sure we didn’t end up in this position, but it was inevitable. He’s my person, the one who I’m meant to be with, and the one who makes me happier than anyone else ever could. It’s always been him, Dad.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening right now.” He turns to my stepmom, to River’s mom. “They’ve always hated each other. I don’t understand.”

“I think this is going to take some getting used to,” she says to my dad. “But you’ve always said that you can’t hate someone you don’t have some kind of feelings for. It’s too strong of an emotion. There’s always been something there between the twoof them, we’ve said it ourselves, we just missed exactly what that something was.”

“I do— I don’t…” His hand comes up to rub at his forehead. “Christ, I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“You don’t have to feel anything right now,” I urge. “I know this is a lot, and it probably feels like it’s come out of the blue. Just take some time to think about it.”

“You’re okay with this?” he asks Charley as he turns away from River and I.

“I don’t know. It’s not like they’re actually related or anything.” She turns to face the two of us. “This can’t have been easy for them and telling us must have been hard.” She’s still talking to my father as she looks at River and I. “This isn’t something they’ve gone into lightly, Richard; I think this is serious.”

“It is,” River confirms. “This isn’t me asking, because I’ll do it all the right way, but I’m going to marry her. Ava’s it for me.”

He probably could have given them a little time to adjust before he dropped that bomb.

“Fucking hell,” my dad mutters under his breath. But it’s not aggressive, more resigned.

Maybe, just maybe, this is going to be okay.

Chapter Thirty-four

Ava

It’s been just over three weeks since the awkward conversation with my parents, and things are good. They’re still speaking to us, which I take as a massive win, and River and I have been living in our own little bubble, completely enamored by each other.

He’s everything I ever dreamed of in a man — attentive, loving, ridiculously handsome, a gourmet cook, and I even like the possessive and obsessive side of him, too.

“Will you tell me where we’re going yet?”

“No, because then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

River picked me up from work about forty-five minutes ago and told me he was taking us away. He won’t tell me anything else, though, not where we’re going, what we’re doing or even how long for.

Nothing.

“Let me enlighten you with something you didn’t know about me: I don’t like surprises.”

“Pipsqueak, there’s nothing about you I don’t know, but you’ll like this one.”

“I bet there are things about me you don’t know.”

“Nope.”

Okay, game on.

“What’s my favorite color?”

“Green, because it’s the same color as my eyes.”

“Oh my God,” I laugh. “That’s not why it’s my favorite!”

“Sure,” he hums as he throws me a wink.

“What’s my favorite food?”

“Italian, but only if I cook it.”