The Test (9 page)

“I’m sorry.”

I spun to face her, surprised I didn’t get
whiplash. I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “You’re right, I
didn’t listen to you.” Her jaw tightened. “And I was rude to
Chance.”

I gripped the overnight bag so tight that my
nails cut into my palm. “You’re sorry?”

She gave me a small nod. “I am.”

I felt my body unwinding, the aggression
seeping out of me like air from a balloon. Now that she said the
words, that she meant it, I felt like a weight was lifted from my
chest. From my heart.

She stood awkwardly in front of the coffee
table, smoothing the front of her skirt. “The place looks
good.”

The side of my mouth twitched. I knew that
was quite the compliment considering she’d threatened to wear a
Hazmat suit on several occasions.

“I figured it was time for a change.” I
readjusted the strap on my shoulder. “I don’t even get to
appreciate it because I--” I trailed off, realizing the last thing
she probably wanted to hear about was the fact that I’d been
shacking up with Chance. She’d already apologized and I knew how
rare that was. I didn’t want to rub her nose in it.

She offered a smile. “It’s okay, Cass. You’re
an adult, making adult decisions.”

I took another step toward her, not sure if I
wanted to hug her or check her temperature. Who was this
understanding person and what had she done with the Ice Queen my
mother had been lately?

“Can I tell you a story?”

I gave her a look. “Chance is waiting
outside--”

“It’s a short story,” she cut in. “I had a
friend who was in love with this man. I say man because she was
barely out of college when they met and he was...older.”

I leaned against the counter, giving her my
full attention.

“He was a writer,” she continued. “A
brilliant writer. The things he could do with words…”

She drew a shaky, painful breath and my
stomach tightened. It was pretty obvious that she wasn’t talking
about a friend at all. She was talking about herself. She was
talking about Dad.

“He could make you feel everything,
experience it right on down to your bones. Words that lasted--you’d
put aside and days, weeks, months later, you would see, smell, or
taste something and you’d be back on that page.”

I swallowed hard, but the fire in my throat
only intensified when I saw the tears in her eyes. “Mom--”

“She brought this guy home to meet her
parents,” she pressed on. “Her conservative, meat and potato
family. They thought he was pretentious and a dreamer, even though
he’d found success with several books of poetry and short stories.
I believe a direct quote from my friend’s mother was ‘dirty
hippy’.” Her mouth quirked into a smile. “They had other plans for
their daughter. They wanted her to marry a fellow lawyer, a doctor,
a stock broker. Something respectable. But my friend was in love--a
passionate, sometimes complex love.”

“Complex?” I asked, frowning.

“Every relationship has its ups and downs.
I’m not--” She stopped, realizing her trip up. “My
friend
’s
not perfect. And neither was her guy. But when you love someone
that deeply, it possesses you. And she was possessed by him. She
lived for him. And he for her.”

That passion sounded familiar. Even after we
broke up I felt the pangs, the wrongness when I kissed someone
else. I couldn’t kill our love because I would have been killing a
part of myself.

“So despite her parent’s reservations, my
friend married the man. They eloped and that was the final straw.
She didn’t speak to her parents for years.”

“What?” I interjected, scratching the record.
That was news to me. Grams never did a good job of hiding her
dislike of Dad, even after he won a Pulitzer. But she and Mom were
always thick as thieves.

“They called a truce when my friend learned
she was pregnant,” she explained with a smile. A tear dashed from
her cheek and she swiped it away before continuing. “Her mother
only asked one question: ‘Can you live without him?’” She sniffled,
blinking back tears. “My answer was no, Cass. And now I’m going to
ask you the same question--can you live without Chance?”

I felt the weight of her question crash into
me. I thought about the dark, attractive man with his nose in a
book, the mystery that begged to be unraveled and the instant
attraction neither of us could deny. I remembered our first time
and knowing that something was fundamentally change inside of
me--and the gaping hole in my chest after I found him cheating.

And then there was hope, embers fanning into
flames when I saw him again. I remembered that we were special.
I
was special. And strong. And capable of learning how to
forgive.

“Can I live without him?” I murmured,
gathering my answer. “I’m the daughter of Rhyder and Elise Woods. I
can do anything. I did live without him, Mom. I
can
live
without him. I just don’t want to. He makes me better. Happier.
We’re better together.”

She held out her arms. “Then I’ll respect
your decision.”

I rushed into her embrace, breathing in the
love, the safety. Hugging her was like going home.

She pulled back, holding me at arm’s length.
“I think I have something to say to Chance.” When I made a face,
she added, “Nothing rude, I promise.”

I let her walk ahead, locking the apartment
behind us. “And nothing embarrassing?”

“No promises,” she winked.

Tingles danced over me when I saw Chance
perched on the hood of my Bug. He stood up, a smile wavering when
he saw my mother behind me.

“Chance,” she started, “I suppose it’s high
time you and I were reacquainted.”

He shook her hand cautiously. “Mrs.
Woods-”

“Elise,” she corrected. “And before you say
anything else, I wanted to apologize for being rude. Protecting my
daughter isn’t a good enough excuse. Not when she made it clear
that she wanted you back in her life, come hell or high water.”

Chance gave her a smile and I saw the blush
of relief spread across his face. “That means a lot coming from
you. And I will never hurt your daughter or betray her trust again.
That’s a promise.”

“Oh I know you won’t,” she answered
sternly.

A few more awkward moments passed before she
said her goodbyes and then it was just me and Chance. I glanced
around the parking lot, making sure we were alone before I inched
close to him. He picked up on my hesitation and hooked a finger
through the belt loop of my jeans, sending pangs of want through
me.

“So things went well with your mom, huh?” He
brought me in close, completely forgetting that we were in
public.

I didn’t pull away. “Things went great.”

“What changed her mind?”

I leaned in, pressing my lips against his. I
just couldn’t help myself. I had a lot of time to make up for,
after all. “Love.”

###

Thank you for taking the time to read The
Test. Please consider leaving a review. xoxo A.C.

About the Author

Ava Claire is a sucker for Alpha males and
happily ever afters. When not putting pen to paper or glued to her
Kindle, Ava likes road tripping, karaoke, and vintage fashion.

**Stay tuned to Ava’s blog for more info on
new releases!**

http://avaclaireromantica.blogspot.com