5 - Aisles and Answers
1226 Words
Ava stared at her grocery list like it held the secrets to the universe, but her mind kept drifting back to the text from Ethan.
Call me. Need to talk. In person.
She had stared at it for a good two minutes before her fingers finally moved to dial his number. It didn’t ring long.
“Didn’t expect a call so fast,” came Ethan’s voice, smooth and amused.
“Didn’t expect to be summoned like it’s a courtroom,” she said, half-grinning.
"That’s exactly how I summon people, actually. Comes with the lawyer DNA."
Ava chuckled. “So, what’s the emergency?”
“I need to see you. Today. I’ll explain in person.”
“Today?” she echoed, glancing down at her half-written shopping list. “I was planning to do groceries.”
There was a pause.
“Then I’ll meet you there.”
Ava blinked. “At the grocery store?”
“You act like I’ve never seen a vegetable aisle. Come on, meet me there. I’ll even help you carry your emotional baggage and your potatoes.”
A reluctant laugh escaped her lips. “Fine. But I swear if you make me argue over apple varieties like it’s cross-examination, I’m leaving.”
“I make no promises,” he said with that cocky smirk she could hear even through the phone.
Ava stood in the produce section fifteen minutes later, one hand on a cart, the other holding her phone as she reread her list. She was scanning through tomatoes when she spotted him.
Ethan was impossibly well-dressed for a grocery store. Rolled-up sleeves, black slacks, and that too-cool expression that somehow worked in every setting. He walked like he belonged everywhere—even in the fruit aisle.
“You’re early,” she said, adjusting the strap on her tote.
“You’re holding a list. Very domestic of you,” he teased, peeking over her shoulder.
She nudged him. “Some of us like to plan our meals. You probably survive on takeout and caffeine.”
“Guilty. What’s on today’s charming menu?”
“Vegetables. Rice. Possibly ice cream if the produce section doesn’t break me.”
He gave her a look. “Ice cream sounds like a necessary purchase.”
They had barely turned the corner toward the dairy aisle when Ava froze.
“Ava?”
The voice made her shoulders stiffen. Her heart dropped before she even turned.
Standing by the dairy shelf was her cousin Clara—impeccably dressed, eyes narrowed in that familiar condescending gaze.
“Ava, it’s been ages,” Clara said, her smile all sugar and thorns.
Ava forced one of her own. “Clara. Hi.”
Clara’s eyes flicked over to Ethan, and then back to Ava with poorly veiled curiosity. “Oh. You’re... shopping together?”
Before Ava could answer, Clara forged ahead. “Still teaching those tiny tots at that preschool?”
“Yes,” Ava said, voice tight but even.
“How sweet,” Clara said, the word sticky with pity. “Some people just have a knack for finger paint and snack time.”
Ava’s jaw clenched. Ethan hadn’t said a word, but his presence beside her was suddenly different—closer. A quiet tension rolled off him.
Clara went on. “And here I thought you’d be married by now. You’re, what, thirty?”
“Twenty-eight,” Ava said.
“Oh. Right. But all your sisters are married, aren’t they? I just saw Marie’s wedding pictures. Stunning. You must be next?”
Ava opened her mouth, but the words died.
Ethan’s hand brushed her arm. She hadn’t even seen him step closer, but he was there now—right beside her. Not saying anything. Just there.
Clara noticed.
“Oh,” she said again, blinking. “And you are?”
Ava hesitated, then managed, “This is Ethan.”
Clara waited. For more. For a label. Ava said nothing.
Ethan extended a hand smoothly. “Ethan Cole.”
Clara shook it, eyes narrowing slightly. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he said, the barest hint of chill in his voice.
There was a beat of awkward silence before Clara forced another smile. “Well, I should get going. Say hello to your mom. And—don’t give up. Sometimes, it just takes a little longer to find your path.”
With that, she walked off, heels clicking like a judge’s gavel.
Ava exhaled slowly, as if she’d been holding her breath.
“You okay?” Ethan asked, quietly.
She nodded, too fast. “Yeah. I just... she always does that. Makes me feel like I’ve fallen behind. Like I’ve failed some imaginary race.”
“You haven’t,” Ethan said simply. He didn’t press. Didn’t push. Just let the silence speak for her.
They walked in silence for a while until they reached the freezer section.
“Pick your ice cream,” he said casually. “You’ve earned it.”
She smiled weakly and pointed at mint chocolate chip. He made a face.
“Wrong choice.”
“Says the man who eats cold cereal for dinner.”
He smirked. “Touché.”
And with that Ethan forgot what he wanted to talk about that he wanted to meet Ava.
Three days later, her phone buzzed again.
Ethan: Need to activate fake girlfriend again. Can you meet?
Ava: Are we talking a level 1 emergency or level 5 family dinner?
Ethan: Level 5. Sister invited me to dinner. Whole family. Need backup.
Ava: I assume there’s food involved?
Ethan: Home-cooked. Possibly Italian. Possibly painful. Save me.
She laughed, then typed: When?
Ethan: Friday night. I’ll pick you up. Wear something that says "charming but grounded."
Ava: So... a miracle outfit. Got it.
He sent back a smirking emoji.
Friday night arrived faster than expected. Ava stood at her front door in a soft mauve dress, a cream cardigan, and her favorite flats. Her hair was curled at the ends, makeup light but enough to make her eyes stand out.
Ethan arrived right on time, dressed in slate gray slacks and a black button-down. He whistled the moment he saw her.
“Wow. You clean up nice.”
She rolled her eyes. “You say that like I usually show up in rags.”
“No,” he said, eyes lingering for a beat too long. “But tonight, you look... different.”
Her heart did a quiet little flip.
In the car, she fiddled with her purse while he drove.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“A little. I’m not great at pretending in front of large audiences.”
“You’re great at pretending,” he said. “You convinced a whole restaurant you were madly in love with me.”
“I had a good muse.”
He raised a brow. “Is that a compliment?”
She smirked. “Take it while it’s warm.”
They pulled up to a beautiful house in the suburbs. Lights glowed warmly in the windows. Voices drifted out—laughter, music.
Ethan looked at her for a long moment before they stepped out.
“You don’t have to say anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said quietly.
She met his gaze. “Neither do you.”
And somehow, that made walking toward the house a little easier.
- Writer
