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Claire,
I hope this brings a little bit of sunshine to your day.
You looked beautiful last night, but you always do.
Happy Friday.
Avery
***
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Avery
I can’t remember the last time I left the office before five. If I’m not in the office in the afternoon, it’s because I’m meeting with clients elsewhere. I don’t duck out early, and I sure as hell don’t take sick days.
But yet, here I am, dragging my tired ass through the front lobby of the condo at 3:13pm on a Friday afternoon, feeling rightfully wrecked.
The nagging feeling in my stomach that told me I’d fucked things with Claire beyond repair, not on my own accord, had been sinking into my bones since she walked out of her own party last night, one I knew she’d spent months planning with Charlee.
The feeling only intensified as today wore on. Her Thank you for lunch, Avery, text lacked her normal sass and the emojis she’s become so fond of. The last thing I want to do is break her, someone who’s already been broken, someone who never should’ve been broken in the first place.
Fix it, Wyatt had said simply to me this afternoon after calling me a miserable sack of shit.
I want to. How do I? How can I make her listen? I don’t even really know what words I’m trying to say to her, and I think that there is my first problem.
Maybe that’s why I haul Sully down to the parking garage and load him into my rarely used truck. Maybe that’s why I’m currently heading to spend my Friday evening with my parents. Because at heart, I’m a bit of a momma’s boy and I always will be, and tonight I need her usually unsolicited advice. It’ll be a night she’ll never soon let me forget, that much I’m aware of. Desperate times call for desperate measures, or something like that.
And because my mom is my mom and she’s overbearing and likes to insert herself into my life, I don’t even have to bring it up. In fact, it only takes her seven minutes to approach the subject of my bachelorhood. A new record.
She stirs a pot of pasta sauce on the stove, ushering me to a chair at the kitchen table. She wipes her little hands on her apron before popping her fists on her hips and scrutinizing me carefully, like she’s trying to find something. She releases the heaviest of sighs.
I roll my eyes. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” she says passively, baiting me the way she always does. She pulls out a chair and sinks to it with another dramatic sigh, shoulders sagging. “It’s just, you’re so handsome, Avery, and so sweet, and—”
My sister strolls into into the kitchen, snorting as she pulls a water bottle from the fridge. “Sweet? I don’t think there’s a girl alive who would use that adjective to describe your son, Mom. Nice? Sure, sometimes. Funny? Eh, he’s alright. Playboy? Absolutely. Sweet? Hell fucking no.” She sticks her tongue out at me, daring me to argue with her.
“Do you still live here, Harper? You’re twenty-five. Shouldn’t you be moving out?” I flick my brows up at her.
Mom clutches Harper to her chest. “Don’t take my baby away from me, Avery.”
“She’s not a baby anymore, Mom. She’s an adult who still freeloads off her parents.” I watch my sister as she sinks into the chair beside me. “You know, the offer still stands to come work with me.”
She narrows her gaze and scoffs, letting me know exactly where I can shove my offer. “You say work with you, but what you mean is for you. I don’t want you to be my boss.”
I shrug. “Wyatt can be your boss.”
“Like that’s any better. He’s just as much a playboy as you are. I don’t wanna be subjected to your sordid affairs at work.”
“The fact that you think we bring hook-ups to our office only speaks to your level of professionalism, or rather, your lack thereof.” Although, Claire and I did make out there a week ago. But that’s beside the point. She’s not a hook-up. “I’m just saying, if you have any desire to be your own person and be independent of your parents, there’s a job waiting for you.”
Mom reaches across the table and pinches my forearm, glaring at me the way only moms can. “Don’t be mean. Stop trying to take her away from me. I’ll lose you both soon enough to marriage.”
You’ve never seen an eyeroll until you’ve seen my sister eyeroll. Her entire body slumps forward with the motion, a groan building in her toes and rippling through her until it bursts from her lips. The entire performance lasts eight full seconds. I’ve timed it before.
“Mooom, enough with this! We’ve discussed this—I have lots of time and Avery’s a playboy!”
