Page 190 of This Woman Forever

“I love you.”

I sag. “Say it like you mean it, Ava.” Not like you’re desperate to get all attention off us. Fat chance. Everyone is still silent, all listening. I’m quite surprised there’s been no intervention, though. Lucky for them.

“I love you,” she says again, this time gently, and I study her for a second, before relenting and helping her up off the floor. I remain on my knees before her. I’m not done.

“Get up,” she orders, cautiously glancing around the restaurant.

She cares too much. I don’t. I get close, slipping my palms onto her arse and looking up at her. “Ava Ward, my beautiful, defiant girl,” I whisper, making her eyes widen again. Yes, baby. A public declaration of love. I have no shame when it comes to this woman. “You make me the happiest man on this fucking planet,” I go on. “You married me, and now you’re blessing me with twin babies.” The crowd sings their sigh as I kiss her belly. “I love you so fucking much,” I say with grit. “You’re going to be an incredible mummy to my babies.” Getting to my feet, dropping kisses on her body on my way up, I finish in her neck. “Don’t try to stop me from loving you. It makes me sad.”

“Sad or crazy?” she asks, a nervous tinge to her voice.

“Sad,” I confirm, taking her cheeks, nose to nose. “Kiss me, wife.”

There’s a mild, disbelieving shake of her head before she plants one on me, and the crowd starts clapping. I break our kiss and look around, seeing people standing. Women swooning. Men undoubtedly considering upping their romantic game. Ava dying. Okay, I’ve made a big enough spectacle of us both. Time to eat. “I love her,” I say one last time, sitting us down.

“Twins!” the waiter says, excited as he bursts through the tables. “You must celebrate.” I flinch when the cork pops, flying across the restaurant, and he laughs, happy as he pours two glasses.

Ava stares at the glasses, her embarrassment now gone and awkwardness creeping up the back. “Thank you,” she says politely. “That’s very kind.”

I reach for her knee under the table a squeeze, dragging her attention from the back of the restaurant to me. “I cannot believe you did that.” She shakes her head as I remove the champagne, pushing it out of smelling distance.

“Why?”

She doesn’t reply, her attention on the back of the restaurant again. She’s distracted. “Do you know that woman?” she asks.

“What woman?” I follow her gaze.

“There.” She nods her head, making me crane mine more. “The woman with the pale blue cardigan. Can you see?”

Pale blue cardigan? I can’t see a pale blue cardigan. I start to turn back toward the table, but someone a few tables away gets up from their chair, clearing the way to the next table at the back of the restaurant.

All air drains from my lungs so fast, I jolt. And when I try to inhale, nothing happens. I can’t breathe as I stare into her eyes.

My mother.

I return to face the table, my body turning cold. Act normal. I try to stop my hands from shaking, clenching my fists. I try to push back the stressed sweat. I try to blink my dry eyes. I’m incapable. It’s been years since I’ve seen her. Seen any of them. What the hell is she doing here? It’s Amalie’s wedding weekend in Seville. She shouldn’t be here!

“What’s the matter?” Ava’s palm comes at me, and I move back in my chair, trying to avoid it before she feels how cold and clammy I am. “Jesse?” she presses, the worry in her voice forcing me to shake my head clear, and hopefully the haunted expression from my face too. “Jesse, what’s wrong?” I blink my focus back, my eyes scratchy, and find Ava staring at me, worried.

I look down at the table. Play it down. But my hands are still shaking, and there is nothing I can do to stop them. “We’re leaving.” Escape. My hand catches a glass as I get up from my chair, my trembling body failing me. Ava looks up at me, her face a picture of concern as I yell at myself to pull it together, rootling through my pocket for my wallet. I drop some money on the table and Ava allows me to pull her perplexed form up from the chair and guide her through the tables with no protest. When we make it outside, I take the lead, urgency ruling me. I steer her toward the car, starting to feel some resistance. Fuck.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks with panic. I aim the fob at my car and yank the passenger door open. She’s unmoving before me, looking up at me in question. Get in, please, baby. I need you to get in the car. But I can’t speak the words. I’ve lost my voice, but I haven’t lost my sight.

My mother hurries out of the restaurant pulling her blue cardigan in, looking up and down the street. I pull in air, my heart beating wildly. In desperation, I take Ava’s arm, trying to get her in the car. Mum sees me. I try harder to move Ava, but she’s rigid.

“Jesse?” Mum says, hurrying over but slowing as she nears. As if approaching a volatile animal. Coaxing it into trusting her. Ava turns to face her, and Mum’s eyes move between Ava, her stomach, and me. Jesus.

“Ava, baby,” I say, quiet but shaky. Her expression isn’t one I’d like to archive. Utter shock. She knows who this is. “We’re going.”

“Jesse, son,” Mum whispers, her eyes unbearably cloudy.

Son? I’m her son? Then why the fuck did she treat me differently to her other son? “You don’t get to call me that,” I grate, trying to get Ava moving. “Ava, get in the car.”

Thank God, she finally moves, walking straight to the open door and lowering to the seat. Closing the door, I stride around the back, avoiding Mum at the front, but she meets me at the driver’s door, blocking it.

Fuck.

“Jesse, please,” she begs. My face bunches, so many painful memories assaulting me. I can’t take it. “Please, I beg you, let’s talk.” She reaches for my arm, touching me. Holding me. Her eyes are beseeching. Sad. Desperate. Eyes that are older than I remember. “It never had to be like this.”