Page 61 of Along Came Amor
A deep sense of fulfillment permeated his soul, and suddenly, their arrangement wasn’t enough. He neededmore.
More of Ava. More time with her, more insight into who she was and what made her tick. He wanted to know what she’dbeen like when she was younger and understand how she’d become the amazing woman she was today.
He wanted strings, damn it.
He thought about his visit with Ashton and Jasmine, about the indefinable connection he’d witnessed between them. Together, they were more than just the sum of their parts. They were afamily.
When he pictured coming home and finding Ava here, maybe grading homework at the dining table or reading in the living room, he got a weird sort of thrill he’d never felt before, and he wanted it more than he ever could have imagined.
But he needed to go slow. Ava would need to think about it, to take time to get used to the idea ofmore. He’d have to ease her into it, expanding her boundaries inch by inch until they included him in all aspects of her life, not just when she needed some kind of release.
So he wouldn’t bring it up right away. He’d stick to her rules for a while longer. But he needed to talk tosomeone. The good feelings were bubbling up inside him, yearning to be let out.
Heart pounding, he grabbed his phone from the bed and texted Ashton, opening the door to what was sure to be an avalanche of questions.
Roman:I’ve met someone.
Chapter 18
June
“Don’t let Mom catch you.” Ava’s sixteen-year-old sister Willow spoke out of the side of her mouth like they were old-timey movie spies passing along top-secret information, instead of half-sisters hanging out at their cousin’s engagement party.
All around the packed ballroom, A-list celebrities mingled with Ava’s multitude of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Over by the photo staging area—a floral background emblazoned with the words “Jasmine & Ashton” with an oversize ampersand between them—Ava spotted Michelle’s mom, Titi Val, chatting with a recent Tony Award winner, and next to the open bar, her cousin Ronnie laughed with a former popstar-turned-sitcom actress.
Ava narrowed her eyes at that. She was currently holding Ronnie’s daughter because her cousin had claimed she needed to run to the restroom.
Ava hoisted the sleepy and overwhelmed three-year-old higher on her hip and turned back to her sister. “Why is Olympia looking for me?”
Willow’s tone turned dark. “She’s going to ask you to paint more chairs.”
“More?” Ava suppressed a groan. “Is she opening a restaurant? How many could she possibly need?”
Willow and Ava had different mothers, so they didn’t resemble each other closely, but they had the same heart-shaped face and big, thickly lashed eyes, and when they smiled, the kinship was clear. Her curly hair was looser and a few shades lighter than Ava’s, and she had fair skin with a smattering of freckles across her nose.
Willow shrugged and reached out to tickle her little cousin under the chin. “I swear, the patio chairs breed like rabbits while I’m sleeping.”
More like Olympia was a compulsive shopper, but Ava kept that to herself. She was careful not to bad-mouth Olympia in front of Willow, for fear of influencing their relationship.
Over the past twenty-five years, Ava had done everything in her power to stay on her stepmother’s good side. Which was why she’d spent the previous weekend painting patio chairs in ninety-degree heat and dodging Olympia’s passive aggressive remarks about Ava’s aunts and uncles. Olympia had picked up more than a dozen beige plastic patio chairs at a clearance sale—despite the fact that she already had twenty scattered around the backyard—and because Olympia had never met a primary color she didn’t like, Ava, Willow, and their father had been summoned to paint them red. Willow had sung “We’re painting las sillas red” under her breath on and off, to the tune of the song from Disney’sAlice in Wonderland. And any time Olympia had critiqued the way they were painting, Willow had muttered, “Off with your head!” until Ava had bitten her tongue to keep from laughing.
Ava had only survived the day by texting Roman updates from the chair-painting trenches.
It had been more than a month since they’d last seen each other—he’d been traveling a lot, and she’d been busy preparing for the end of the school year—but they texted almost daily. Despite Ava’s initial boundary, something had changed after their movie night.
It started when she sent Roman a meme about Mr. Collins and the boiled potatoes. He’d sent back a Colin Firth gif from the BBC miniseries and admitted he’d been watching it on the plane. From there, they sent each other questions and updates every day, often adding thematically appropriatePride & Prejudicememes in response. The Mrs. Bennett gifs had gotten quite a workout during Ava’s adventures in patio chairs.
She should’ve put a stop to it. Their exchanges had nothing to do with sex, yet somehow felt more intimate than anything they’d done in a bed. But every time Roman’s name popped up on her phone, her heart soared, and she jumped to reply. When Willow had caught Ava grinning at her phone, Ava had lied and said she was texting Damaris.
“It’s okay to tell them no,” Willow said now. “To the chairs. And anything else they ask you to do.”
Ava sent her sister a mild smile. “I don’t mind. I’m happy to help.”
“Imind,” Willow muttered under her breath, gazing across the dance floor to where their father swayed with Olympia.
Ava tamped down the frustration rising within her. Shehatedthat Willow saw their family dynamic so clearly. It meant Ava wasn’t hiding her emotions well enough. She’d never wanted Willow to notice what she had long suspected, that their parents took advantage of Ava’s helpfulness, of her need to belong.
Before Ava could think of what to say in response to that, she spotted Titi Nereida striding toward them. Their grandmother’s older sister leveled Ava with a haughty glare made even more menacing by her heavily painted-on brows.
