A bigger person who was willing to let go of the past would call them both in and introduce them to my parents formally. But I’m not a bigger person. I never have been.
“No, I don’t think I will.” With that, I push away from the table and stand. I pause, trying to figure out what to say to them. As my gaze shifts between the two of them, my heart clenches. “You know, he’s the only man in my life who has never let me down. I’ve had more support from him in the year that I’ve known him, than I’ve ever gotten from either of you my entire life.”
I watch the destruction of my words as they hit their intended mark. My dad drops his head down in shame, unable to look at me, and my mother cries. Leaving them both behind in the kitchen, I make my way back toward the front door, hating how stifling the air is here.
“Honey, you can stay. Please, stay,” my mother pleads. It makes the backs of my eyes burn because where was this mother when I needed her most? Where was she when I needed sympathy, when I needed just one person on my side?
“I can’t.”
I continue my trek toward the front door and can clearly hear my mother’s sobs behind me. When I grasp the door handle, I can feel my father standing behind me. I can feel all the unsaid things floating between us.
“Take care of yourselves, Mark.”
Yanking the door open, I hurry down the steps and damn near run to the car. Baz doesn’t miss a beat. He allows me to get buckled in before he pulls out of the driveway, and we’re gone. Once the house starts to disappear in the rearview mirror, I finally let out a deep breath. A tear trickles down my cheek, and I let it make its descent.
“Are you okay?”
I look in the back seat, watching Ava, as she bobs her head to whatever channel she’s watching on YouTube. Her pink earphones cover her ears, so I know she can’t hear us. She’s too immersed in her iPad.
“She’s hers,” I say, getting straight to the point. It’s not what he asked, but I’m too afraid to say that I don’t think I’m okay. After finding out the truth, I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes. There was never a foreign exchange program. It was all a lie to protect themselves. I still don’t know all the details. They said under the circumstances of how she got pregnant, it was their only option.”
He pauses. “Do they know, about her?”
“No.” I press my lips together in a grim line. “And they never will.”
We have a quiet evening back home with Ava. The scar on her forehead is healing well. She was a bit tired for a few days after the incident, but she is resilient, exactly like Madison was. Baz surprised her with a bracelet, and because he’s as rich and ridiculous as they come, he had a custom medical alert bracelet made for her at Cartier. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss him or slap him. Despite that, all that truly matters to me is that she’ll be safe. That is my main priority as her mother.
The thought sends a pang through my chest. Because, even though she is mine, she isn’t. Her mother is dead. Her mother would never get the chance to see how beautiful her daughter is, and that hurts. That hurts because I want to give Ava the world, but I can’t. I want Ava to be mine and only mine, and I hate that a small part of me still feels like I am sharing her with my sister.
Ava seems blissfully unaware of the mess that is her lineage, and I want to keep it that way for as long as I can. I want to shield her from knowing the kind of pain I have for the rest of her life. But at some point, I know I’ll need to explain. Even if I am angry with my sister for keeping me in the dark, she deserves to have her daughter know who she is. All the good parts of her that I remember.
With my untouched glass of wine, I watch the way Baz interacts with Ava. They’re both sitting on the floor, and she’s showing him her drawings. There’s an incredible softness that surrounds him whenever he’s near my daughter, and it makes my chest ache at how beautiful it is. Because Baz isn’t a man who is soft. He’s hard and unrelenting. He must sense the weight of my stare. While Ava is prattling on about this and that, Baz glances at me, his gaze searching my face and eating me up in my loose shirt and shorts. My legs are tucked under me on the couch as I watch them.
His gaze heats my skin as I feel it trace across my exposed flesh. He glances away, back down at Ava, and his lip quirks as she continues. When she finishes her spiel about wanting to be an artist, Baz mentions something about Brazil that has me straightening.
“In Brazil, where my family is from, my mom owns an art gallery there. You’d love it.” Ava’s eyes glow, her smile widening. “Maybe you and your mom can come with me the next time I fly down there to visit.”
My breath catches, and when Ava glances at me, there’s hope shining in her eyes. “That would be so much fun, right, Mom?”
“It would. Maybe one day you’ll have your own pieces hanging up there.” Her eyes widen at the idea of it, and she shoots to her feet, running down the hall toward her room.
“I’ll be back, Mom,” she yells over her shoulder. “And don’t leave yet, Baz, I have one more picture to work on!”
“Slow down, please,” I yell after her, thoroughly traumatized after her head injury. The last thing I need is her crashing into the wall in her haste.
Baz pushes off the floor, leaving Ava’s work, and pauses in front of the couch next to me. I arch a brow at him, my lip quirking.
“Brazil, huh? You know she’s not going to let you out of this. She’ll be expecting that trip.” Pushing off the couch, I crane my neck back to stare up at him.
Baz chuckles. “I’m counting on it. There’s something else I wanted to discuss with you.”
I heave a deep breath, suddenly feeling wary and assuming the worst. “What is it?”
As if sensing where my thoughts are headed, Baz smirks and shakes his head. “I want to release a statement. About you and Ava. She’s already been pictured while out with us, and I’ll do whatever I can to protect her from the media, but it’s better that I give them something.”
My stomach twists. “Okay, well, what are you thinking? Just flat-out saying she’s my adoptive daughter?”
“Sort of. If we’re together, she’s a part of my life and that would make her my daughter, too. Not legally, but certainly in all the ways that count.”
My breath catches and pressure builds behind my eyes. “Is that what you want?”
“Absolutely.” I search his gaze, looking for a lie. Looking for a possibility that he doesn’t actually mean what he’s saying. But as we stare at each other, I can’t find a single lie in his gaze. Warmth spills into my chest, and my heart squeezes.
“What are you saying to me?”
Baz slides his hand around my waist, drawing my body against his, pressing my front flush with his. His large, calloused hand slides around the back of my neck, and he holds me there. His thumb strokes the delicate skin there, so at odds with the possessive hold. “I’m saying I want you. I want this. I want Ava in my life. I want to protect you both in all the ways that matter. Because I love you and Ava. That’s never going to change.”
A single tear trickles down my cheek. I push onto the tips of my toes, and I kiss him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I tug Baz into me, pouring everything into the kiss because I’m suddenly incapable of words.