Page 81 of Hula Girl

I make it to the top of the staircase and he’s just a half-step behind. He grabs my hand and pulls me so that I twist toward him, and he wraps his arms around my waist and shoulders, bringing me in close against his body. I lower my gaze to his chest, not wanting him to see the hurt in my eyes.

“I want to be with you, I do,” he says urgently into my ear. “I just need a minute to deal with him, to make sure that he’s not going to do anything—”

But the damage has already been done, and I suddenly feel cold. Suddenly feel rejected by his clear lack of interest in me now that we’ve pulled off the fake fiancée ruse. And I lash out.

“Yeah, sure,” I say. “Go ahead and work on that grand plan of petty retribution against the man you’re suddenly so concerned about. That’s time well spent, I’m sure.”

“Why do you care so much about what I do with him, anyway?” he snaps back.

“Because it’s not who you are. It’s not the man I met in Maui. The man who told me about directingmanain a positive way.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I’ve got to go.”

I start to move toward the house.

“This is all you finding an excuse to walk away,” he says and I stop. But I don’t turn around. I just listen as he continues. “You just can’t stand to let me in, no matter what I say or do. Called it right from the start, didn’t I?Closed off. That’s safer than letting me really know you, isn’t?”

My chin is trembling from trying to stave off tears. I’m so hurt and angry. He knows this is the way to get to me. He knows that the loss of my father is why I might be “closed off” and that I’ve spent a lot of years trying to protect myself against a similar kind of hurt. And then the minute I do let someone in—because that’sexactlywhat I’ve done with him—he uses it against me.

“But the thing you need to know,” he says before I can respond, “is that you don’t have to put up your walls.” I feel him wrap his arms around me from behind, holding me tightly. “I’m the same guy from just a little while ago who made that toast about taking chances, about falling for you no matter how crazy it seems. That wasn’t pretend. I don’t want to pretend with you, Ava. I want reality. Even if it’s complicated and hard. I want it as long as you’re along for the ride with me.”

I want to sink back into him. Sink to the ground with him. Just to feel his strong and reassuring arms around me. But that would require taking a chance. Something I just don’t think I’m capable of doing right now.

Instead, I say, “I have to go. My mom is waiting.” And I pull away from him, hurrying into the house.

33

Ava

The minute we drive away, leaving Ford behind, I feel cold. I hadn’t realized what a warm, bright presence he has been in these last few days. I mean, there’s no doubt that I’ve had a good time with him, but I hadn’t understood how much space he had taken up in my life. In my heart.

“You don’t have to stay,mija,” Mama tells me when I follow her into her house. “It’s okay if you want to go be with Ford.”

I take a deep breath to try to clear away those unwanted pangs of missing Ford. “No, I want to. I’m going to find some clothes to change into. We can get cozy and watch something on TV.”

She nods, unconvinced by my forced enthusiasm.

In my old bedroom, I keep a stash of emergency clothes for when I decide to stay over at the last minute like this. It includes shorts, sweats, T-shirts, and even some work clothes. I may have officially moved out years ago, but I’ve never really left. I feel safe here. And being here for Mama always feels good.

It strikes me that I feel the same way about my firm. I feel safe there. And I like being there for Randall.

At the same time, I imagine that neither Mama nor Randall would want me to feel obligated to stick around for them.

But that’s too bad, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m definitely not running away from my life like Ford seems to want me to do.

With that thought, I sit heavily on my bed, focusing on that word: safe. It’s the same word Ford used in accusing me of not letting him know me—because I thought it wassaferto protect myself. He’s right, of course. Because I’ve operated out of that sense of wantingsafetyabove all else for so long. Financial safety for my mom and me after my father passed away, work safety with my loyalty to Randall, emotional safety with only allowing so much intimacy in my relationships. Until Ford came along, that is.

I want to scream into my pillow to relieve the frustration and heartache I feel. Instead, I change into sweats, a T-shirt, and a Southwestern Law hoodie. When I return to the living room, I find Mama setting out a bowl of freshly popped popcorn sprinkled with spicyTajínseasoning. This snack was a staple of my teenage years, whenever I was heartbroken either by a boy or by less than perfect test results. It meant sitting on the couch with Mama, snacking, and vegging out while we watched telenovelas. And it was always the perfect remedy to take my mind off things. She knows me too well.

I sigh and plop down on the couch. Grabbing a handful of popcorn, I know it’s no use to pretend that everything’s okay. Mama knows better.

She sits next to me and pulls my left hand toward her, looking at the ring I’m still wearing. The weight that I’d earlier lamented has gotten comfortable surprisingly quickly.

“Is it real?” she asks, and I laugh.

“I asked the same thing. He says it is very real. He said it cost him ten thousand dollars.”

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