Chapter 15
1562 Words
[Ava]
The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows of my apartment, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors. I stood at the kitchen counter, mindlessly chopping vegetables for dinner, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and anticipation. Tomorrow night. Dinner with Ethan. The conversation we'd been avoiding for five years.
The sharp ring of the doorbell jolted me from my reverie. I glanced at the clock, my stomach sinking as I realized who it must be. Right on time, as always.
Taking a deep breath, I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and made my way to the door. I opened it to reveal Victoria Vanderbilt in all her perfectly coiffed glory, looking as if she'd just stepped off the pages of a high-society magazine.
"Mother," I said, forcing a smile. "What a surprise."
Victoria breezed past me, the scent of her expensive perfume filling the air. "Really, Ava? I told you I'd be stopping by this afternoon. Don't tell me you've forgotten already."
I closed the door, silently cursing myself for not remembering. Between the drama with Ethan and the upcoming charity gala, my mother's visit had completely slipped my mind.
"Of course not," I lied smoothly. "I was just in the middle of preparing dinner. Would you like a glass of wine?"
Victoria settled herself on the sofa, her critical gaze sweeping over the living room. "I suppose. Though I do hope you're not serving those dreadful boxed wines you've become so fond of lately."
I bit back a retort, reminding myself that engaging would only make things worse. Instead, I busied myself in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of a ridiculously expensive Cabernet that I'd been saving for a special occasion.
"Here you are," I said, handing her a glass as I sat in the armchair across from her. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
Victoria took a delicate sip, her perfectly manicured nails clinking against the crystal. "Can't a mother simply want to check in on her daughter and grandson? Speaking of which, where is Oliver?"
"He's at a playdate," I replied, grateful for the reprieve. "He'll be home in about an hour."
"Hmm," Victoria hummed disapprovingly. "I do hope these playdates aren't interfering with his studies. A child of his background should be focusing on academics, not frivolous socializing."
I took a long sip of wine, reminding myself to stay calm. "Oliver is five, Mother. Playdates are an important part of his social development."
Victoria waved a dismissive hand. "If you say so. Now, tell me about this little charity project of yours. How is that going?"
The condescension in her voice when she said "charity project" made my blood boil. The Sinclair Foundation was my life's work, my passion. But to Victoria, it was little more than a hobby, a way for me to play at being independent while still relying on the family fortune.
"It's going well," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "We're preparing for our annual gala next month. We're hoping to raise enough funds to expand our after-school programs into three new neighborhoods."
Victoria's perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. "My, how... ambitious. And I suppose you'll be asking your father and me to contribute again this year?"
I gritted my teeth. "The Vanderbilt family has always been a generous supporter of children's education initiatives. I had hoped you'd want to continue that tradition."
"Of course, of course," Victoria said, her tone dismissive. "We'll write a check. Though I do wonder if perhaps it's time you considered more... substantial work. Something befitting your background and education."
The implication was clear. In Victoria's eyes, my charity work was a frivolous distraction, not a real career. I took another long sip of wine, reminding myself that engaging in this argument was pointless.
"The foundation is substantial work, Mother," I said firmly. "We're making a real difference in children's lives."
Victoria's lips pursed, clearly unconvinced. "If you say so, dear. Though I can't help but think that if you'd focused this much energy on your marriage, perhaps things would have turned out differently with Ethan."
The mention of Ethan's name sent a jolt through me. "Mother, please. We've been over this. Ethan and I... it's complicated."
"Complicated?" Victoria scoffed. "What's complicated about it? You married a man from new money, had his child, and then ran away without so much as a word. Honestly, Ava, I raised you better than that."
I set my wine glass down with more force than necessary, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "You don't know the whole story."
"Then enlighten me," Victoria challenged. "Because from where I'm sitting, you threw away a perfectly good marriage and denied your son his father for five years. For what? Some misguided sense of independence?"
The accusation stung, all the more because a part of me feared she might be right. Had I been too hasty in leaving Ethan? Too proud to hear his side of the story?
"It wasn't like that," I said, my voice smaller than I'd intended. "I thought... I thought he was cheating on me."
Victoria's eyebrows shot up. "Cheating? Ethan Blackwood? The man looked at you like you hung the moon and stars. What on earth made you think he was unfaithful?"
I sighed, the familiar ache of old wounds throbbing in my chest. "Late nights at the office, secretive phone calls, lipstick on his collar... what was I supposed to think?"
"You were supposed to talk to your husband," Victoria said, her tone softening slightly. "To give him a chance to explain. Not run away with his child."
Her words hit uncomfortably close to what Ethan had said during our confrontation. Had I really been so wrong? So quick to assume the worst?
"It doesn't matter now," I said, trying to shake off the doubts. "What's done is done. Ethan and I... we're trying to figure out how to co-parent. For Oliver's sake."
Victoria studied me over the rim of her wine glass, her eyes shrewd. "And is that all you're trying to figure out? Because the way you're fidgeting and the fact that you've barely touched your wine suggests there's more to the story."
Sometimes I hated how perceptive my mother could be. "We're... having dinner tomorrow night," I admitted. "To talk about things."
A triumphant smile spread across Victoria's face. "I knew it. You still have feelings for him, don't you?"
"Mother, please," I groaned. "It's not that simple."
"Of course it is," Victoria insisted. "You love him, he clearly still loves you. What's complicated about that?"
I stood abruptly, needing to put some distance between us. "Everything is complicated about that! We have five years of hurt and misunderstandings between us. We have a son to consider. We can't just... pick up where we left off."
Victoria set down her wine glass, her expression uncharacteristically gentle. "No one's saying you should, darling. But don't you think Oliver deserves to have both his parents? And don't you think you deserve a chance at happiness?"
I turned to look out the window, blinking back unexpected tears. "And what if it doesn't work out? What if we hurt each other again? What if we hurt Oliver?"
I felt Victoria's hand on my shoulder, a rare gesture of affection from my usually reserved mother. "Oh, Ava. Love is always a risk. But from what I've seen, you and Ethan had something special. Something worth fighting for."
I turned to face her, surprised by the understanding in her eyes. "When did you become such a romantic?"
Victoria chuckled, the sound warming the room. "I've always been a romantic, darling. How do you think I've put up with your father for all these years?"
Despite myself, I laughed. It felt good, this moment of connection with my mother. Even if I didn't always agree with her methods, I knew she wanted what was best for me.
"So what should I do?" I asked, feeling suddenly like a little girl seeking her mother's advice.
Victoria squeezed my hand. "Be honest with him, Ava. About your fears, your hopes, your feelings. And listen to what he has to say. Really listen. You both deserve that much."
I nodded, a strange mix of fear and anticipation swirling in my chest. "I'll try."
As if on cue, the sound of a key in the lock announced Oliver's return. He burst into the apartment, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Mommy! Grandma!" he cried, running to hug us both. "Guess what? Daddy's teaching me how to play golf this weekend!"
I saw Victoria's eyebrows rise at the casual mention of "Daddy," but to her credit, she didn't comment. Instead, she swept Oliver into a hug, peppering him with questions about his day.
As I watched them, a warmth spread through my chest. This was my family – complicated, imperfect, but filled with love. And maybe, just maybe, there was room in that family for Ethan too.
Tomorrow's dinner loomed before me, filled with possibilities both thrilling and terrifying. But as I looked at my son's beaming face, I knew one thing for certain.
Whatever happened with Ethan, whatever the future held, I would face it head-on. For Oliver's sake, and for my own.
Because some things were worth fighting for. And maybe, just maybe, Ethan and I were one of them.
- Writer
