Page 46 of More Than a Friend
I don’t know why my nose tickles or pressure builds behind my eyes. But having Skylar here, clearly invested in my kids’ lives and knowing small things about them, makes me want to cry tears of happiness.
I don’t remember ever telling her what their favorite candy is or about Gus’s love for the cheesy breadsticks from this particular pizza place; it’s so bad, he won’t eat them from anywhere else. Hell, I don’t even remember telling her this place was our favorite.
“I even got your mom her own pizza since she’s the only one who likes pineapple.” She winks at the kids, and they both make disgusted sounds.
My jaw drops open in mock offense. “Hey! It’sgood.”
“No, Mommy. Fruit doesn’t go on pizza,” Zoe states matter-of-factly.
“She’s right, Aves. Pineapple belongs in smoothies or lemonade. Not on pizza.” Skylar throws me an over exaggerated wink, and I roll my eyes.
“I’m being attacked in my own home!” I lament, and Gus wraps his arms around my waist.
“We still love you. Even if you like gross things.”
“Thanks, buddy. Okay, let’s get our food dished up so we can watch the movie.”
Chapter 22
Skylar
Halfway through the movie,after we’ve eaten our fill of the cheesy—and pineapple-y in Ava’s case—goodness, Zoe and Gus are sprawled out on the floor, completely entranced by the colorful show.
Me?
I couldn’t care less about what’s happening because Ava’s thigh is pressed up against mine on the couch, and our fingers are intertwined under the blanket we’re sharing.
It’s reminiscent of teenagers trying to sneak around and hide their relationship, which feels apt in our case.
I know Ava’s not trying to hide us out of shame. Throwing this curveball at the kids would be a lot for them—especially with what Gus is going through right now.
Ava told me about what those fuckers said to him at church and how her asshole ex responded. I had half a mind to go over to his house and punch him in the mouth. How dare he?
But I know Ava wants to fight her own battles, and I’m not going to step on her toes. The best thing I can do is be here for whatever she needs.
Right now, it seems all she needs are the physical touches we’re sharing. She’s laid her head on my shoulder, and without thinking, I plant a kiss on her hair.
She looks up at me, and I worry I overstepped, but she gives me a hazy smile and plants a gentle kiss on my shoulder before lying back down.
Her thumb rubs absently over mine for the rest of the movie, and I swear I’ve never felt more content.
I want this. Her. Them.
I want Friday movie nights and Saturday morning pancakes. I want Sunday brunches with the kids and cooking dinner with them when they’re here. I want to help Ava pack lunches for school and steal kisses in between.
I want to take Ava out on weekends when the kids are with their dad and show her what it’s like when someone is completely obsessed with her.
I want it all.
And wanting it all is scary because it means I have something—everything—to lose.
When the movie is over, Zoe and Gus try their best to persuade us to let them watch justone moremovie, but Ava isn’t giving in.
“You guys don’t want to be tired when we go to Grandma’s tomorrow, do you?”
“No,” they grumble simultaneously.
“Then brush your teeth, and get in bed. I’ll come read to you in a second.”
