AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I would tell them to give people a chance,” I admit. “That everyone has their own way of dealing with things.”
“We’re all striving to be better, Ava. It just takes some people more time to figure out what that looks like.” She bobs her head as if agreeing with herself. “Hell, it’s taken me almost my whole adult life to realise that I was alone because I made myself that way.”
My eyes grow wide but I don’t dare say a word. My mother has never admitted anything so vulnerable before.
“When you got engaged and I didn’t even know about the man you were seeing, it...hurt. But I did some thinking and I understand why you might feel like I’m too opinionated about your life. I don’t want to push you away, Ava. You’re my only daughter and I love you. I want you to be happy.”
I rush forward and squeeze my mum so tight it makes my arms hurt. I know that despite battling against one another for my entire life, our love is stronger than our opinions. Our love is worth a few arguments here and there.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against her hair.
“I’m sorry, too, baby.” She hugs me back and we stay there like that for a long moment.
Eventually I hear the shuffle of small feet and see my grandmother coming out of the lounge room, her cane making even littlethunksagainst the tiled floor. “I don’t know why we’re all hugging, but I feel left out.”
Laughing through my misty eyes, I reach my arm out and pull her into the fray. Three generations of imperfect, opinionated and stubborn women all entangled in one giant hug. I haven’t been the best daughter I could be, but I’m going to make that change now—not by carrying my mother’s baggage, but by trying to understand her point of view. Trying to be more empathetic and accepting and kind.
And all the while I’ll keep striving for a better life. For all of us.
Later that day, I press my back to the wall of my temporary bedroom and slide down to the floor. Even knowing that I have the job I’ve always wanted, that I have a roof over my head and that I’m about to be in a better financial position than I’ve been in inyears, I can’t feel totally happy. Because the one thing I’vealwaysknown, deep down to my very core, is that stability and happiness are not the same thing.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’m repairing things with my mother. And sure, stability is a privilege. Knowing I’m not going to get booted out of my living situation again is a weight off. But it doesn’t change the big, gaping Daniel-shaped hole in my heart.
Across the room, I catch my reflection in the mirrored wardrobe doors. It’s a sorry sight. Hollows under my eyes, limp hair pulled into a scruffy bun. I’ve done nothing but go to work and pack my things for the last few weeks, and every day I collapse into fitful, subpar sleep.
I miss him.
The thought is a repetitive echo, day in day out. It never seems to fade.
It seemed too crazy to think I might be in love with a man who’s only been in my life a short time—but when I think about him, my heart aches. And it feels so utterly broken I have no idea how to put it back together.
“You gave him a chance to confess how he felt,” I mutter to myself. “And you got your answer.”
But without Daniel my bed feels cold and empty, my palms reaching for him every morning. And it isn’t just sex—although Idefinitelymiss that, too. It’s the way we learned things about one another, no matter how big or small. Like how he geeked out over historical architecture and could talk for hours about the influences of a particular architect.
The closer I looked, the more beauty I saw. The more goodness. Daniel has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known, and yet he keeps himself chained up. Inaccessible.
The sound of a car door slamming outside startles me out of my reverie and I need to finish unpacking before dinner. But when I push up from the floor, I catch a glimpse of bright red outside. Bright red like the custom paint job on a very fancy sports car.
“Shit.” My breath catches in my throat as I see Daniel get out of his Maserati.
Like a manifestation of my wildest dreams, he stalks up to the house. But he looks different—he’s unshaven and his mouth is set in a grim line. He looks worn down, emotionally ruined.
Exactly how I feel.
I have to get to the front door before my mother or grandmother can make it. I scoot out of the bedroom, my sock-covered feet skidding on the tiles as I catch my mother dragging my grandmother into the living room and sliding the frosted glass door shut. She winks at me before disappearing. A second later, the TV is turned on and the sound of a game show gives me a veil of privacy.
Thanks, Mum.
Daniel knocks and I give myself a moment, steeling my heart against seeing him again, before I open the door. Up close, I see even more details of how he’s changed—the darkness under his eyes, the crease between his brows. He’s wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt in inky black that hangs perfectly so I can admire the muscles in his shoulders and arms and across his chest.
That’s a power move if I ever saw one.
“Can we talk?” he asks.
“You could have called for that.” But I step back and hold the door, fortifying myself against the crackle of electricity shooting through me. But there’s no use—I’m like a woman starved and at the first sight of him, my body demands more. “How did you even know I was here?”
“Gut instinct.”
