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“Oh.” She looks away from me and touches the bandage again on her head. Her eyes squeeze shut; it must be hurting her.
Wandering back into the kitchen, I grab her some pain medicine and a bottle of water. She appreciatively takes it from me and swallows it down.
“Thanks,” she mumbles, and then looks at me in confusion. “Ash . . .”
“Yeah?” My eyebrows raise.
“Where do you keep all of your clothes?”
“What?” I ask, chuckling.
“It’s just, the closet at the condo in Nashville is really empty. It looks more like a place you crash at, versus live.”
My gaze on her grows serious as I think about how this might look from her point of view. Taking the bottle, I toss it on the couch, and move to sit on the armrest closest to her. “Ava, my clothes are spread out between the tour bus, the lake house, and the condo. I’m a pretty simple guy and don’t need a whole lot.”
“Oh,” she pauses thinking about my answer. “Now I feel kind of stupid.” She drops her head and looks away from me.
“Don’t, I can see how everything combined might be misleading or confusing. You know, after the benefit, you didn’t ask me about her; I just assumed you knew who she was.”
“Well, I didn’t,” she says, frowning.
“I’m sorry,” and I really am. She should have asked me and I should have pushed harder in New York City.
“So, Bryce isn’t yours?” She looks up at me with a very blank expression.
My hands squeeze the fabric of the armrest. “No. I told you we’ve never been together. Why would you assume that?” Not that I’d mind, I love the kid immensely and would take him in a heartbeat should the unthinkable happen.
She pulls her phone from her pocket and moves to sit next to me. I watch her type in my name along with “son.” Image after image pops up of me with him over the years. Everything from him being a newborn, to recently when we were spotted in the park.
Shit.Well, that explains how she came to that conclusion.
Covering the phone with my hand, I push it down to her lap to gain her attention. “Ava, he’s not mine.”
She lets out a breath and then stands back up to put some distance between us. I really hate the distance.
Ava regards me for a minute before finally nodding her head in understanding. Breaking eye contact, she turns and walks out of the living room and toward the windows that overlook the lake.
Midstride, she freezes, and so do I.
She’s spotted her real Christmas gift.
“You have a piano,” she says without turning to look at me.
“I do.”
“I don’t remember this. Have you always, or did you recently get it?” She walks over and runs her hands over the glossy black lid—hands that when they touch me make me feel like the most important person in the world.
I swallow and try to push down my emotions. “I just got it . . . for you. Merry Christmas.” I didn’t realize I would be so nervous about her reaction, but I am. I’m worried it might be too much for her. A month ago, I was pretty sure which direction we were headed, now I’m just waiting for her lead.
“When did you get it?” She turns to look at me, leaving her hand on the top. She looks perfect next to it, just like I knew she would.
“Before Thanksgiving.” It was a little presumptuous of me to purchase it for her so far in advance, but I knew then what I wanted, and it’s her.
“Why?” Little wrinkles form between her eyes and her fingers lightly tap across the top. She’s nervous, and I don’t know why. It’s me sitting in front of her. Me and her. I like the way that sounds.
“Because I meant it when I said I wanted you to be mine. You once told me that you wanted to buy a place here on the lake. Well, I don’t want you to do that. I want you to share my home with me. I want this one to be yours.”
Her eyes widen a little and her lips part as she gasps.
