Page 57 of Slapshot Baby

“So she kissed you and decided she’s not interested,” Dad says, lips twitching. “That should bring your ego down a notch or two.”

I frown. I don’t like the direction this dinner conversation is headed, but my family won’t stop until they choose to. So I lean into it.

“I think she’s interested.”

His dark eyes fix on me with intensity. "Based on what evidence?"

"She drives to my apartment every weekday. She’s memorized my medication schedule and texts Mira when I skip meals."

They all watch me in silence.

"If she does all that, then what exactly is the problem?" Dad asks.

"She's scared."

He shakes his head. "Scared of what? You're the one who lost four years. If anybody at this table has the right to be scared, son, it's you."

"Charles, that's enough." Mom turns to me. “Whatever is holding Ava back, it isn't you."

A smirk forms on Mira’s face. “Then what is it?”

My mind goes back to all the times I told Ava why we can be something more.

I shrug. "Something she hasn't told me."

Dad snorts. "A mystery woman with baggage. Fantastic."

"Everyone carries baggage, Charles." Mom's voice can slice glass. "Including the man at this table who refused to speak to his own brother for six years over a boat."

"That was a fifty-thousand-dollar boat, Laura."

"It was pride. Don't dress it up."

Mira bites the inside of her cheek so hard her face goes red. She loses the battle and a laugh sputters out. Dad stabs a potato and chews like a man trying to kill the argument with silence.

It doesn't work.

"Bring her to the lake house this weekend," he finally says.

I look at him. "What?"

"We organized a weekend getaway to celebrate your recovery. Your aunts, uncles, and cousins wil be there." He takes a drink of water, sets the glass down, levels his gaze at me. "If this woman matters enough to argue about at my dinner table, she matters enough to show up. Bring her."

"She won't agree to that."

"Did I ask whether she'd agree?"

Mom puts a hand on my forearm. "What your father is attempting to say, with all the subtlety of a freight train, is that we'd like to thank Ava for helping you and get to know her better. You're both invited.”

‘Exactly. No pressure," Dad says.

Oh, there’s a lot of pressure.

Mira carries her plate to the sink and squeezes my shoulder on the way past.

"She'll come."

"You don't know that."