The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (10 page)

We also learned which parent we should go to and when. Dad is good with spiritual advice and big decisions; he was also Avery
’
s go-to whenever some dumb guy broke her heart. Mom is who we go to when we
’
re having trouble with relationships
—
friends, boyfriends, or when Avery and I were at odds. This situation with Beckham
—
is it really a situation or am I overreacting?
—
definitely falls into
mom
territory. This weekend couldn
’
t have come at a better time.

“
AJ, you about ready?
”
Avery calls from the living room.

“
Yeah, coming!
”
I grab my backpack and my duffle before heading out to join her.

“
Are my Twinkies leaving?
”
asks Sarah as she emerges from her bedroom. Her blonde, wavy-curly locks are loose around her shoulders and she
’
s wearing pair of sweat-shorts and a t-shirt. I know just by looking at her that she
’
s already hunkering down to do some studying of her own.
“
Drive safely. Text me when you
’
re home?
”

“
Absolutely.
”

The ride down is a couple hours. We manage to beat most of the traffic on I25, until we hit a bit of congestion in Denver; but it doesn
’
t last long and soon we
’
re at cruising speed. We opted to take Avery
’
s car because she
’
s the better driver
—
or, at least, the most efficient. As soon as she turns her music on, she
’
s lost in her focus on the road. Driving, to her, is relaxing. That, and running. The only thing that eases her more is playing her cello. While I
’
m not a bad driver, I
’
m usually mildly anxious and uncomfortable, especially when there
’
s traffic.

We don
’
t talk much throughout the duration of our journey, but I
’
m alright with that. I haven
’
t opened up to Avery about my current insecurities in regards to my relationship with Beckham and I
’
m happy to let my mind wander a bit. It
’
s not that I wish to keep anything from her. I know she would try and give me her most objective advice. Just because we shared a womb for eight months doesn
’
t mean that she
’
ll always take my side if she thinks the opposing side is right. It
’
s just that I know that if I tell her, I
’
ll only be fueling my anxiety. I don
’
t want to do that. I don
’
t think that
’
s fair. Especially considering Beck and I haven
’
t talked about it again.

I
’
m pulled from my thoughts when my phone vibrates inside of my pocket. I reach for it and find a text from Beckham.

My BMW:
Hey. Heading out now. Text you when I
’
m home.

Me:
Sounds good!

My BWM:
I love you.

I
’
ve heard or read the sentiment from him a thousand times but, in this particular moment, I need it. It soothes me in ways that he has no idea I currently require.

Me:
I love you, too.

It
’
s still early, five o
’
clock, when we pull into the driveway. My parents have lived in the same house since my freshman year of high school. Dad is a settler
—
not in the sense that he accepts less than he should, but in the sense that he likes to plant roots. His parents were in the military, which had him moving all over the place growing up, like Grayson. I know my grandpa wanted him to follow in his footsteps and enlist in the Air Force, but that just wasn
’
t my dad. Instead, he stopped the last place my grandparents stopped
—
Colorado. He went to college, met my mom, got a great job in advertising, had twin girls, and
settled
.

My mom is kind of the opposite. She
’
s an explorer, which is why every year for as long as I can remember, we go on family trips. We
’
ve been to Europe, South America, Canada and all over the United States. Avery and I are quite well-traveled, if I do say so myself. While my mom likes to travel and discover new things, she
’
s also a homemaker
—
which is the part of her that enables her to be a wife and a mother, tied down to her family but with little complaint. I also think that
’
s part of the reason why she
’
s a teacher. She teaches high school choir and I know that she
’
s got a reputation for being that teacher that
’
s practically a second mom to her kids from year to year. It
’
s just who she is.

I hope my students will love me like hers love her.

I notice, as we make our way inside, that dad
’
s car is gone; but when we walk in, I smell dinner right away. Avery and I both head straight for the kitchen, assuming that
’
s where we
’
ll find mom. We assume correctly.

Mom
’
s taller than us by a couple inches, but she
’
s still petite like we are. Her straight black hair is streaked with gray and cut into an asymmetrical bob. When she hears us enter the kitchen, she turns and greets us first with her eyes. Their tilted teardrop shape mixed with the way her cheeks perk up when she grins, makes her dark brown eyes all but disappear as she giggles.
“
My girls made it!
”

“
Hey, mom,
”
Avery and I say in unison. We both go in for a hug and she accepts us together, one arm wrapped around each of us.

“
How was your drive?
”
she asks as she pulls away.

“
Not bad. There was a little traffic, but nothing too crazy,
”
Avery answers as she reaches up to tighten her ponytail.
“
Where
’
s daddy?
”

“
I sent him to the store,
”
mom says as she turns to resume the task she was busy with when we arrived.
“
I needed a couple things to round out dinner. He should be back any minute.
”

“
What are you making?
”
I ask, peeking over her shoulder.

“
Mediterranean.
”
Just like always, my mom answers my
what
with a
where.
We
’
ve always known dinner by culture or region, not by dish. It was confusing when we were younger, but we
’
ve all managed to catch on.

“
When do you think it
’
ll be ready?
”
asks Avery.

“
My, my
—
someone is hungry,
”
mom says with a smile over her shoulder.

“
Actually, I was thinking it might be nice to head out for a quick run before dinner. I feel like a slug after being in the car for the last couple of hours. Do I have time?
”

“
Oh, sure. Just be ready to sit down in about an hour.
”

“
Awesome.
”
She
’
s gone in a flash and I can
’
t help but smile. No one should ever be that excited about running.

“
You don
’
t have to stick around for me, Addie Jane. If you need to go freshen up, we
’
ll have plenty of time to catch up later.
”

I think about it for only a second and then I realize that this might be the only time all weekend that I have my mother to myself. I hadn
’
t planned on walking in and dumping my Beckham worries in her lap, but who am I kidding? I won
’
t really be able to focus wholeheartedly on anything else until I
’
ve had the chance to speak with her. Now is as good a time as any.
“
I
’
m okay. Is there anything I can help with?
”

“
Sure. I
’
ve got some cabbage in the fridge that still needs chopped
—
can you handle that?
”

“
Of course.
”
I wash my hands and grab the cabbage while my mom starts asking me questions about my upcoming finals. The answers roll off my tongue with little thought. There
’
s enough room on the counter for me to situate myself just beside her and I settle into a grove as we prep together. She must notice my lack of enthusiasm for her chosen conversation topic because it
’
s not too long before she taps her hip against mine, causing me to focus my attention on her.

“
What
’
s on your mind?
”
she asks, her eyes warm and inviting in that look only a mother can convey.

“
Beckham,
”
I confess without a moment
’
s hesitation. I feel relieved simply by uttering his name; it opens the door that has been holding back all of my anxiety and confusion.

“
What about that sweetheart of yours has you so preoccupied?
”

“
He said some things
…
I don
’
t know. I
’
m just worried we
’
re not on the same page right now.
”

“
How do you mean?
”
she asks, folding her arms across her chest. While it might look like an act of intimidation, I can tell she
’
s simply pulling her hands away from her task so that she can focus all of her attention on me. I mimic her gesture and fill her in on the conversation Beck and I had the previous Sunday. When I
’
m finished, she offers me a nod. I can tell that she
’
s processing what I
’
ve said, so I wait for her to find the words she wishes to speak.
“
I know you two have talked about getting married, but there is no rush for you to do it right now.
”

“
I
’
m not talking about
right now
, I
’
m talking about a year from now.
”
I hear the defensiveness in my tone, but I can
’
t help it.
Is she taking his side?

“
And I understand that. With the direction your lives are moving, it would certainly be convenient for you to plan to be married next summer.
”
I relax a bit, comforted that she understands where I
’
m coming from.
“
But Addie, you
’
ve got to let him take the lead on this one.
”