Page 50 of Yes, Love

Then Dominic commented with a single black heart. I blinked at the comment, heart racing. What was he doing up right now? It was like 3 am in England.

“Dad’s going to bring Mexican take-out for dinner when he gets off. Does that sound good?” My mom gave me a searching look while she stirred some almond milk creamer into my coffee.

“Mexican is perfect.” I gave her a tight smile and powered off my phone again. Dominic had texted a few times to ask how I was doing with all the drama. I’d stayed silent. I didn’t want to think about him kissing Lucy’s nose and spooning her in bed while he checked up on me.

It didn’t matter how real things seemed between us. I was an idiot for falling for him, and I needed to cut out all of the things that hurt to keep my head above water. That meant I couldn’t be his friend.

“Ava?” My mom reached across the counter and took my hands in hers. “I’m proud of you.” Her blue eyes welled up with tears, but it wasn’t fear and agony behind them. It actually looked like real pride.

“Why, mom?”

“For everything, baby. For surviving, for keeping your chin up, for building all of this.” She waved her arms around my kitchen to point out the stupid amount of money I’d made. “But right this second, I’m proud of you for being brave and putting your mental health first. I know that none of this is easy for you. You’re so strong, and it’s beautiful.”

Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes and slipped down my cheeks in hot rivers. “I don’t feel strong, mom.”

“I know you don’t. But that’s exactly what makes you tough. You keep going even when you don’t think you can.”

“Thanks.” I gave her a half-smile. “It means a lot to hear you say that, and I hope you really mean it.” I took a deep breath and glanced up at her. Were we having a breakthrough? Was this going to be a shift in our relationship?

That would only come if we had a hard conversation. I took a final deep breath and said the words that had been sitting in the back of my mind for years. “I feel like that for the past twelve years, all that you’ve seen when you look at me is that broken little girl on the bathroom floor.”

My mom closed her eyes against the pain that still existed from my actions as a teen. She cleared her throat and opened her sky-blue eyes. “I do see that little girl, Ava.”

I bowed my head in shame and nodded. “Right.”

“But that’s not all I see, honey.” She smiled and reached across the counter to hold my hand. “I see the giggly, bouncy toddler that squealed for glitter and ‘pipstick.’ I see the grade-schooler with big old front teeth and a random, fleeting obsession with geology.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. I’d forgotten about my rock phase. Mostly I was interested in the formation of gems and diamonds. Shiny things would always hold a special place in my heart.

“And then I see the girl that was trying to grow into a woman, but she was sad and scared and didn’t know what to do. I wish I could go back and help her.” My mom’s voice cracked, and she placed a hand over her mouth. She took a deep breath and held my hand again. “But I also see a survivor, a fighter, and a beautiful woman.”

I blinked back tears and squeezed her hand. “You really don’t think I’m a fragile monster?”

My mother’s pretty face screwed up in confusion. “God no, honey! Maybe those first few years after your accident—”

I held up my hand to stop her. “It wasn’t an accident. It was a suicide attempt. Let’s call it what it was.”

She sighed. “Your suicide attempt. I thought you were fragile after that.”

“Is that why you gave me everything I wanted the second I asked?”

“Maybe. And guilt. And fear that life is too short.”

I nodded, and we sat in silence for a moment.

“But you turned out to be beautiful and strong in spite of me.”

I shook my head and stood to wrap my arms around my mom. “No, mom. Because of you. Because you found me, and you got me help, and you didn’t give up on me even at my worst.”

In my mom’s arms, as a twenty-six-year-old with a broken heart and a shattered career, I finally understood what real love was.

“Sorry, I’m late!” My dad’s deep voice called from the entryway. “Ava, I ordered you a chicken burrito, but then I thought maybe you’d already had chicken this week, so I went back and ordered a bean one, too. You can pick—” He stopped in his tracks and gaped at me, still in my mom’s embrace with tears streaming down my cheeks. “Is… is everything okay, ladies?”

I laughed through my tears and held out one arm. “Yeah, daddy. Group hug?”

A smile spread across my dad’s handsome face. “Like when you were a kid, huh? You used to make us do this every night before bed.” He crossed the kitchen and wrapped my mom and me in his big strong arms. “I sure love you, girls.”

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