One Week with the Marine (Love on Location)

“I would love to, Mom, but I thought we were only going to dinner. Avery—”

“Avery’s had you to herself all week. I’m sure she won’t protest losing you for a day.” It was obvious Holden’s mom was trying to keep from snapping the words, but they still had a clear crispness that was impossible to ignore. Mainly because this was the tone she always adopted when Avery was involved—not rude enough for anyone to accuse her of impropriety, but it couldn’t ever be mistaken for warmth or approval, either.

“It’s nice to see you, Mrs. Morris. You look well,” Avery said. Mrs. Morris looked at her as if she’d only just realized Avery was capable of speech.

“What do you say, Avery? You don’t mind, surely?”

Avery blinked and glanced at Holden, her throat somehow managing to constrain itself tighter. “No, not at all. It’s totally fine. Go with your mom, Holden. Spend time. I’ve got things to do to get ready for my o

pening at the gallery anyway.”

Mrs. Morris’s thin eyebrows shot up. “Gallery? What’s this?”

“It’s great news.” Holden beamed, then squeezed Avery’s shoulder. “Avery was just accepted to show her work in a prestigious gallery here in town. The exhibition will be this weekend.”

“Yes, if you’re still in town, you should come,” Avery added. This, everyone knew, was an empty invitation. It was like saying “we should get coffee sometime” or “sure, I’d love to give anal a try, and I’m sure it won’t hurt at all.” Nobody meant it, and nobody ever thought the other person did, either.

And that’s what made what Mrs. Morris did next that much more confounding.

“We’re in town all weekend. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She offered Avery a shark-toothed smile, then motioned for Holden. “Come on, now, darling. Are you ready to go?”

“Um…” He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Why don’t I come over in a little while?” He glanced at Avery helplessly.

She shrugged, not sure what she could do. When he turned to walk her out to their car, she smiled and waved to them, trying to pretend that she hadn’t just ruined what little time she had left with Holden.

She glanced at Rodrigo, who’d slept through all of the action, and frowned at him.

“Cats probably can’t eat cake, huh?” she asked.

She couldn’t say for sure, but she thought Rodrigo rolled his eyes.

FROM THE DIARY OF AVERY FORRESTER

There was a time once when I thought I was at the lowest point in my life.

It was the night of senior prom, and Myla’s mother had let me borrow one of her dresses to wear. It was black and sleek with shoulder pads I’d had to cut out of it, but when I was done pawing through the jewelry she’d let me wear, I thought I was the prettiest girl in class—maybe next to Myla who had somehow managed to contain her frizzy mess of curls in an elegant twist that night.

I was supposed to go to the dance with a crush of mine—Greg Simmons. He was a burnout, but his gray eyes were dreamy, and when he wrote poems in English class, I could tell his soul was deep. I wasn’t the only girl who thought so, either. He had lots of girls to choose from—but he’d decided to go with me.

Or, at least, that was what I thought.

Instead, the day before the prom, he got back together with his girlfriend and called me a few minutes before he was supposed to pick me up for the dance.

To this day, I don’t remember how Myla reacted or what she said to me when I told her. I can only remember walking down the main drag in that stupid black dress, heading home to my mother’s trailer (complete with stepdad number three).

I’d never felt more defeated or dejected in my entire life. And as I thought about walking into my house and telling my mother what had happened, knowing she wouldn’t care or understand, the depression only sank deeper, clogging my veins and sticking in my bones.

That night, though, was different.

I was almost home, and the streetlights had just come on when a red sports car pulled up next to me. Inside, was a handsome guy in a tux. A very familiar handsome guy.

“Heard you could use a date,” Holden said. “Hop in.”

Myla must have called him. It was the only explanation I could think of for him just showing up like that. Normally, my pride would have been wounded by the charity, the pity, but Holden wasn’t like that—he never made me feel that way. He was just always there when I needed him, dependable and sure.

So, the worst night of my life turned into the best.

All because of Holden.