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He chuckles wryly.
“So do I have your blessing to ask for her hand in marriage?” I ask quietly. Nervously.
“If it’s what she wants, then there’s nothing I’d like more than to call you my actual brother.”
My chest swells at the thought of it. It seems so simple now, but it’s been a conversation I absolutely feared for months.
Now that it’s all out in the open, I feel…free.
Chapter 59: Ava Maxwell
Thoughtful Fleeting Things
A giant bag of Tootsie Rolls appeared on my kitchen counter yesterday. Last week, I got a phone call from someone who plays defense for the Vegas Aces asking me to bake a cake for his daughter’s birthday party. This week, I’ve had more phone calls asking for a variety of different types of desserts for different events.
I know this is all Grayson's doing. I know he believes in me and my abilities when it comes to baking.
And I think it's starting to slowly get through to me that he believes in me as a person—as a partner—for him.
I'm teetering on the edge of wanting to slowly dip my toe back into trying things with him. The season is well underway now, but it hasn't stopped him from calling me every day to check in. Sometimes it’s late into the night. Other times it’s first thing in the morning. But regardless, he hasn’t let a day go by where I haven’t heard his voice and he hasn’t heard mine.
And this is his season. He’s busy. But he’s making time—time for Tootsie Rolls and jerseys and Aces shirts. Time for tickets where he sees me in the stands. Time to come over and say hi and make sure everyone in the stadium knows he’s taken. By me.
Even if he really isn’t.
The media hasn't picked up on us being apart, and I think it’s because people assume he's busy. He is in season and not attending the same number of events he did in the offseason, and he’s still greeting me at games.
Or maybe he's choosing to stay home because he doesn't have a date since I’m still holding back.
At least that's what he indicated when we were talking the other night. I told him I didn't want to hold him back from doing the things he wanted to do, and he said he wouldn't find any joy in them if he didn't have my hand to hold.
The more time that passes where I'm not at his house, not in his bed, not by his side, the more I wonder whether I'm just being stubborn. I'm not sure what it'll take to push me over the edge to run back into his arms.
I told him I need him to prove he believes in us, and I guess I need him to prove to me that I am the future he wants. Giving me tickets and jerseys, or selling my skincare line, or stopping by with Tootsie Rolls—these are all wonderful and kind and thoughtful actions.
But these things are fleeting. These aren't the things that tell me I'm a permanent fixture in his life.
Football season is in full swing as the scorching heat of summer fades into the milder fall weather. Halloween is right around the corner, and while he has continued giving me all sorts of attention, he hasn’t pressured me into taking him back. Despite that, he’s still there, calling, texting, and letting me know he's thinking about me every single day.
I’m starting to get the hint.
He wants me to take him back when I’m ready. And I think I’m getting closer to being ready. I think I want to jump in and try to trust him again.
And then one day my phone starts to ring, and I see it’s Beckett calling.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey. Mom said she wants to come see you in Vegas, and I have a free weekend coming up, too. Can I join her?”
“Just you? Or the whole fam?”
“Just me,” he says. “Rachel is sicker than a dog at six months pregnant but says she can handle the girls by herself for one weekend.”
“I’d love to see you. You’re welcome to stay with me.”
He clears his throat. “I know, but I’m guessing Mom will take you up on that, so I asked Grayson if I can stay with him.”
“You’re staying with Grayson?” I ask.
