Page 5 of This Woman Forever
“Maybe, Jesse, but there’s one thing you can’t do.”
“Is there?” I ask, scratching through my head for what that could be. “What?”
“Buy her dress.” Elizabeth goes to the fridge and opens the wine. “We’ll go tomorrow. I’ll call Aunty Angela. You call Kate.”
“Mum,” Ava breathes. “I’m working tomorrow.”
“Working?” She pours as I get the beer from the counter and hand it to Joseph. “But you have a dress to find, Ava.” She sips. “And what if it needs to be altered?”
“Zoe will take care of it,” I say, laughing when Joseph picks up my open jar of peanut butter and grimaces at it.
“Will she?”
“Yes.” She’s the only woman I know who can make a dress happen with such notice. And she owes me for nearly bankrupting me last Friday. “I’ll message her”—I take the jar from Joseph and put it back in the fridge, then tap out a message—“see what she’s got tomorrow.”
“I have to work tomorrow,” Ava protests, lowering to a stool. I can see it. The gravity of it all overcoming her. “And what about my hair? And nails? And lashes. Should I have lashes?” She looks at her mother. “Do I need lashes?”
“That’s it,” Elizabeth says. “We’re definitely staying, no arguments.” She necks her wine and refills. “I’ll never find anything in Newquay for such a special occasion, so I’ll take myself shopping tomorrow while you’re at work. Hopefully this Zoe can see us after you’re finished.” She huffs her disappointment. “Who has time to work when there’s a wedding to plan?”
Finally, something we both agree on. I purse my lips and glance at Ava with high, agreeable eyebrows, and she, true to form, rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out. “But I’m not organizing, am I?” she retorts, smug. “You must stay here,” she says, returning her attention to her mother.
What?
Is she being spiteful?
“But we have a hotel, darling,” Elizabeth says, laughing a little. I can see it in her eyes as she casts them around the surrounding luxury. She wants to stay.
“No, no, you must stay here.” Ava stands, looking at me. “They should stay, shouldn’t they?”
What can I say?
No?
Fuck off, I refuse to share your daughter with you?
I sigh, and it’s really fucking deep. I can hear myself. Luckily, no one else can. I know at some point in our relationship I’ve suggested Ava’s parents could stay, but I can’t say with complete honestly I meant it. I was appeasing Ava when she was finding excuses for me not to meet them.
And now they’re here. Our guests. Our overnight guests.
Great. For how many nights exactly?
I send a prayer to the dress gods that my testing mother-in-law finds one really fucking fast. “Yeah,” I breathe. “Yeah, they should stay.” In the room farthest away from ours. My phone dings. “Zoe can do five o’clock tomorrow.”
“I’ll leave work early,” Ava says, biting at the corner of her lip through her smile. She leans up and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, baby.” I take her in a hug and look over her head to her parents. “There are a few things I need to run by my wife-to-be,” I say, cupping the back of Ava’s head. “Excuse us.” I start walking backward, bringing Ava with me, still tucked into my chest. “Make yourself at home.”
I get us out of the kitchen and rush Ava up the stairs. To hell with abstaining while her parents are around. When I made that vow, I thought they’d be here for dinner, not for a city break.
I get Ava into our room and shut the door. “Strip,” I order as I shrug off my jacket. “Now.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” she says, pulling her dress up her legs.
“Really?” I ask on a laugh, making her working hands falter. “You really can’t believe I did that?” I kick off my shoes and dip to remove my socks before unbuttoning my shirt.
“Dumbest thing I’ve ever said,” she muses to herself, resuming her strip, which, frankly, is a bit fucking slow.
I get my shirt off, my trousers, my boxers, all at lightning speed, and help Ava finish, dragging her knickers down her legs. I remain crouched before her, staring at her flat stomach. Pregnant.