Taking a half step back, I quickly look her over. What’s different? She’s warm, almost hot to the touch. Her cheeks are red, and maybe she’s gained a little weight. Her cleavage is lush and overflowing from the neckline of her T-shirt. And where I just had my hand …
“Ava… what’s different about you ?”
She traps her lower lip between her teeth, taking a long time before she says anything. When she inhales to say the words, I already know. I feel it in my heart .
“Ethan… I’m pregnant .”
My mind whirls. Pregnant? With my baby ?
I don’t even have to ask. I know it. I could feel it .
“Ava, that’s… amazing .”
She looks up, startled. Her eyes are so blue, they almost look like swatches of sky .
I can’t hold back anymore. I take her in my arms again. I feel it now for sure, how she is so different. She’s definitely more solid, more grounded, with my baby growing inside her. Something I’ve never felt before wells up inside of me, threatening to take me over completely. I find her lips and kiss her, drinking in her scent, trying to capture every bit of her against me .
“We’re going to be together,” I tell her when I’m finally able to pull away for just a moment. I repeat it two more times, until she finally nods in agreement .
“Are you sure, Ethan? You have to be sure .”
“You’re my family now, Ava. I couldn’t be more certain of anything in the world. We’re going to be together .”
Finally, she smiles. It’s like the sun breaking through the clouds. She smiles with her whole heart, pushing up on her toes to kiss me, pressing her arms around my neck. I could kiss her forever like this, hold her to me, drink her in .
But finally she climbs down, smiling shyly, pulling her T-shirt down over her slightly swelling belly .
“Oh, one more thing, Ethan? We’re having twins .”
Chapter 38
AVA
T he hostess looks up when I come in, squinting against the glare of sunlight that bursts through the open door. It’s early afternoon, and the restaurant is deserted .
“Is Aden around?” I ask her politely .
She tips her head to the side, looking me over. I’ve never met her, but Aden goes through hostesses faster than dishwashers. She’s probably only been here a few weeks, probably will only be here few weeks more. The restaurant business in San Francisco is really competitive, to say the least. An attractive hostess with experience is always in demand. They don’t stick around if the business isn’t good. It doesn’t look good on a resume .
She squints at me suspiciously, then nods like she’s made a decision .
“He’s in the back,” she informs me. “I’ll go get him. Would you like to sit at the bar ?”
“Sure,” I agree .
I feel bad that I haven’t been here more. I know Aden has been struggling, and I didn’t think that he would have wanted me interfering or criticizing, or even just witnessing it. So I stayed away. But this is worse than I thought .
The restaurant is open for lunch, so there should be somebody here. But there’s nobody. The booths are sparkling clean and ready, like any minute now a crowd will come in. The TVs are on in the bar. I can hear kitchen staff moving around .
I can only guess what happened. He spent too much on the decor and food for this neighborhood, which hasn’t gotten trendy in response. It’s still “interesting” bordering on “seedy.” Then he had to raise his prices to compensate. Being the most expensive restaurant in the neighborhood isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but you have to have something to make up the difference. Customer service, unique food items, maybe a charming and agreeable business owner who likes to get to know his patrons .
That last part, that’s where Aden could use a little work, if I’m being honest. He’s more likely to kick people out than give them a free dinner if they decide they want their steaks done a different way. He is sort of like Gordon Ramsay that way. Sometimes he yells. Aden isn’t cool under pressure, not by a long shot .
He thinks it’s okay, but I’ve seen his Yelp reviews. Nobody ever complains about the food, but there have been enough run-ins with Aden’s terrible temper that I guess he has scared pretty much everyone away by now .
Hopping up on a barstool, I swing my heels back and forth and watch C-SPAN on one of the thirteen flat screens distributed around the empty bar. The bartender gives me a Sprite with grenadine and extra cherries when I ask, then resumes his post polishing already polished glasses at the other end of the bar .
“Well this is a surprise,” Aden chuckles, pulling out the barstool next to me. The metal legs scrape loudly against the floor as he sits down, leaning against the lacquered wooden bar. “To what do I owe this pleasure ?”