Chapter Twelve
It shouldn’t have been a surprise, of course, that Holden’s parents had booked a hotel in La Jolla. No doubt being in the same zip code as Avery would have had them breaking out in hives, anyway.
Still, as they made the exceptionally long drive to the exceptionally expensive hotel in the exceptionally clogged California traffic, Avery found herself feeling anything but exceptional.
True, that could have had something to do with the fact that she’d demolished half a cake on her own as the day progressed, but something told her it wasn’t quite that.
It was that she felt, well, stupid.
She’d spent five hours doing her makeup, her hair, picking out just the right outfit, and as they neared the hotel, she was reminded of just how tightly her hair was pinned up, just how long and itchy this skirt was, how staid and starched she’d become.
It wasn’t her.
Holden had even blinked at her when he’d come home after visiting with his mom, his mouth half open.
“What happened to you?” he’d asked.
“We’re still going to dinner, right?” She’d shrugged.
He’d said they were, but he hadn’t elaborated on his shock. He hadn’t needed to.
After all, the last time she’d had dinner at the Morris house, she’d worn a pair of short shorts with holes in the protruding pockets and a suggestive T-shirt advertising a lollipop brand.
It went without saying that Mrs. Morris had not found the outfit charming. But time had passed since then. Almost six years, in fact. She was an adult now, and she was capable of behaving herself and holding her tongue…if only for one night.
She opened her purse and glanced at the emergency flask she’d packed herself. A little liquid courage never hurt anything, right?
Holden pulled into the huge parking lot, and they stared at the perfectly manicured landscape for a moment before turning to face each other.
“I can still turn around, you know. Tell them you’re sick,” he offered.
She pulled the flask from her purse and took a long pull before offering it to Holden.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Straight tequila.” She winced. “Gets the job done, though.”
He held up a hand. “I’m good. And don’t worry. My parents know what this means to me. You’re going to be fine. I even asked my mother to try and be a little nicer to you while we were out today.”
“Oh. Good.” She nodded. This, she knew, was Holden’s way of trying to smooth things over…again. He’d attempted it before, of course, and each time he seemed to think he’d curtailed his mother’s outright hostility.
Instead, Mrs. Morris just found different, more sneaky ways of letting Avery know just how much she disapproved of her.
So, all she had to do was find out which method Holden’s mom had decided on tonight.
Avery stowed her emergency flask then hopped from the truck and met Holden around the front of the car. Without hesitation, he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her inside, and her entire body sang at his touch.
What had he said? His parents knew what this meant to him? What exactly did that mean?
After all, they already knew her—and knew her fairly well. So, what was so special about tonight? What had changed?
She frowned, then quickly pasted a smile on her face as she spotted Holden’s parents at a table in the far corner of the room. Already, they had two opened bottles of wine on the table and Holden’s mother was eyeing Avery wearily over the top of her lifted wineglass. She took a sip then stood and outstretched her arms for her son.
“Holden, darling, come sit down.” Holden embraced her, and his mother kissed him on both cheeks.
“Avery, nice to see you again, too,” she added, almost as an afterthought. Holden glanced at his father from the corner of his eye, but the older man only gave one solemn nod.
“Nice to see you both, of course.” He didn’t bother standing. No doubt he would chalk this up to injuries sustained during his years of combat, but Avery knew what it really was—a power play. In Holden’s family, it’s what everything came down to.
“We ordered the chef’s tasting menu,” Mrs. Morris chimed. “Thought it might be fun. Seven courses and everything.”
Avery glanced down and spotted the array of silverware in front of her, on both sides of her plate and a few in front, too. Of course, she’d photographed enough weddings to know how to conduct herself at a formal meal, but that didn’t change the fact that she knew exactly what Mrs. Morris was doing. In fact, she knew it so deep in her bones that she could have guessed the next words the other woman would say before they came out of her mouth.
“I’ll, of course, help guide you through the silverware, dear. I know it can be confusing.” She offered Avery another genial smile, and Avery simpered in return.
“How kind of you.”
“You look different than the last time I saw you.” Holden’s father’s words all sounded like commands, and Avery was shocked to find that he was speaking to her rather than Holden.
“Oh?” she asked.
He gave a curt nod. “You look less like your mother than I remember. Did you dye your hair? Put on some weight?”
Avery blinked, her mouth open.
“How is your mother?” Mrs. Morris asked quickly, sounding as if she were asking about someone who’d recently been diagnosed with terminal leprosy. “I haven’t heard much about her lately.”
This, Avery knew, was an out-and-out lie. If there was one thing the people of their tiny Maryland town couldn’t get enough of, it was gossiping about Emily Forrester. Which husband had come begging her to take him back? Who was her newest boy toy? What was she doing all those nights, hanging around the bar?
She was like the town mascot—except instead of a fluffy animal or marauding pirate, she was a fifty-something woman in a miniskirt and platform heels.
“She’s well, I think. I haven’t talked to her lately.”
“Busy on her honeymoon?” Mrs. Morris asked.
Avery’s smile stiffened. Her mother hadn’t remarried since her last divorce almost a year ago.
“Something like that,” she said.
“Right,” Holden interrupted. “Looks like these are for us.” He nodded toward a waitress who carried a tray laden with small dishes on which sat even smaller spoons.
“Amuse-bouches.” Mr. Morris nodded.
“That translates to ‘the perfect bite,’” Mrs. Morris said to Avery.
Avery, in response, reached for the wine, filled her glass, and made sure the bottle wasn’t far from reach. “How nice.”
Holden glanced at everyone in turn, and when their plates were all in front of them, he cleared his throat. “Well, I’d like to propose a toast.” He lifted his glass. “Today, Avery discovered that she would be featured in a gallery, and that’s certainly cause to celebrate. Congratulations, Avery.” He grinned at her, and for the first time all night, her smile actually felt genuine.
If only for a moment.
“And to Holden,” Mr. Morris added, “and his continued military success. May you find many promotions and victories in your future.” He clinked glasses with his wife, then offered a reluctant “cheers” to Avery.
They drank, and Avery fought the urge to open her throat and toss back the entire glass. After all, the sooner she could get her buzz going, the better.
When they’d barely touched their appetizer, however, another round of food came. This time, it was shrimp cocktail.
The waitress sat their plates down again, sweeping away the round before this, and Avery stared wearily at her shrimp fork.
“I’m so excited to see what the gallery does this weekend. You should see Avery’s work, it’s incredible,” Holden said.
“Yes, I think I saw a few pieces in the penny saver mailer last year,” Mrs. Morris said.
Avery smiled brightly, then picked up her shrimp fork, knowing that the other woman was watching all the while. She’d show the old bat that she wasn’t trailer trash anymore.
“What I’m more interested to see is what you decide to do next, son. Your contract is up, isn’t it?” his father asked, though Avery was sure he already knew the answer to this question.
Avery, however, did not.
She turned to Holden, momentarily forgetting her shrimp and Mrs. Morris’s veiled outrage.
“Yeah, the contract is up,” Holden said.
His contract was up? He could be coming home forever, and he hadn’t bothered to tell her?
“If you’ll excuse me.” Avery slid her chair away from the table, already fumbling for her emergency flask as she rushed for the privacy of a bathroom stall.
…
Holden watched as Avery disappeared into the ladies’ room, then narrowed his eyes at his parents. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” he practically spat.
“What do you mean?” His mother frowned.
“Was it too much to ask for you to be nice to her for a single evening? You couldn’t handle that?” he asked, then turned to his father. “And what about you? I thought you were starting to come around about Avery.”
His mother rolled her eyes.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s never been that we don’t like her, Holden,” she said.
“You could have damn sure fooled me.”
“Don’t speak to your mother that way,” his father barked.
“She’s in the way,” his mother explained, and his father nodded. “We know what you’re going to do, and we beg you not to.” His mother gave him a weary look.
“And what’s that?”
“You’re going to give up everything for this girl,” his father said. “You always have. I was damn surprised you enlisted to begin with. I thought you’d rush across the country to escape with her.” He shook his head.
“What are you talking about?” He looked from one of his parents to the other.
“Please, Holden, we’ve mollycoddled you enough about her,” his mother said. “Your contract is up. We know that. We also know what that usually means. You could be promoted. More money, more success.”
“But he’ll give it up,” his father added, stabbing at a piece of shrimp. “Just like Tom gave it up for Jennifer.”
Holden nearly choked. “Tom is very successful. I don’t—”
“He’s doing as well as he can,” his mother agreed. “But we all know you can do better. We’re just so tired of watching you throw things away for this girl. What does she even have to offer you?”
“I don’t—” Holden said, but his father cut him off.
“Your graduation ceremony. Do you remember? We were all ready to go and watch you accept that damn full scholarship to West Point, but instead, you go off to Annapolis to stay near this girl.”
“And miss the ceremony altogether because her date left her for the prom?” His mother sniffed. “Honey, you were young then, but you’re not so young anymore. You have to start thinking of your future.”
“You don’t know what I’m going to do.”
I don’t know what I’m going to do.
“Don’t we?” His father raised his eyebrows, and from the corner of his eye, Holden saw the ladies’ room door open. Avery stalked toward them, a little more wobbly than she had been before. As she rejoined them, so did the waitress, who sat large plates of salad in front of each of them and encouraged them to eat.
“The salad fork is the—” his mother said, but Avery just smiled at her and picked up her shrimp fork along with a steak knife and set to cutting up her salad. Obviously, she’d decided to get a little payback.
His mother blinked, and Holden fought back the urge to smile. If his mother had been anyone else, Avery might have flipped the table by now. As it was, she was showing restraint—for him. Always for him.
Wasn’t that enough? To share his life with someone who thought of him first?
As the rest of the meal passed by and Avery continued to terrorize his mother with her table manners, he thought through the years they’d spent together, wondering if there were any sacrifices he’d made that he regretted, if there was a single moment he’d spent with her that he would rather have spent elsewhere.
But there were none. Because when it came to Avery, whatever sacrifices he had to make were always, always worth it.
So, there was his decision—clear as day. And when he got back in the car, he was going to tell her as much.