War (Boston Bolts Hockey #3)

22. Ava

TWENTY-TWO

AVA

“How’s dinner coming along?” Hannah’s tinny voice bounces off the walls in the kitchen.

I peek into the oven where I’ve dumped the fully prepared roast that was delivered twenty minutes ago into a Dutch oven I found in one of the cabinets. “Looks good.” I don’t cook, and I don’t intend to learn for Tyler’s sake, but I do intend to overcook this meal and teach him that a woman’s place—especially this woman’s place—is not in the kitchen.

“Your hair?”

I close the oven door and peer at my reflection. “A rat’s nest on top of my head.”

She giggles.

“And the kids?”

“Having pizza with Maria’s family downtown.” I wouldn’t dream of forcing them to endure this awful dinner. Let them have pizza and dessert so they’re loud and sugared up when they get home.

They’ll be back in an hour, which gives me just enough time for what I have planned. Then, once they’re in bed, I’ll spend the rest of the night as far away from Tyler Warren as I can get and do my best to avoid him until he gets back on a plane .

“Good girl,” Hannah hums. “Now remember, tease, tease, tease, but don’t let him near the goods.”

“Ha,” I cough out a sarcastic laugh. “As if I’ll let him anywhere near me.”

“You say that now.” She sighs, like she expects me to break. “But he’ll walk in there being all War , flaunting those tattoos. Then you’ll get a whiff of him, and before you know it, you’ll be on your back, and he’ll be eating you for dinner.”

I blink down at the phone. “Did you just make his name an adjective?”

“Did you just skirt past the whole tattoo thing?”

Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “He’s not that irresistible. I resisted him for a whole two years.”

“Exactly. You had to actively resist him. And that was before you were married. Before he was being all hot dad. If you don’t put your foot down now, you’ll never get the upper hand in this marriage.”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I know what’s at stake, and I know precisely what I need to do.” The sound of a car door slamming has my heart skittering. “Oh, he’s here.”

“You’ve got this. Remember, he wanted to restrict your orgasms, and nobody restricts Baby’s orgasms.”

“I think the line is nobody puts Baby in a corner?—”

“Work with me here.”

“Right. Okay.” With a tap on my phone screen to end the call, I spin toward the door, ready for action. “No one restricts my orgasms.”

Tyler

“I’m home!” I slam the door and hold my breath, waiting for the sound of squeals, for the feet padding across the floor, for the little humans hurtling their bodies against mine so they can squeeze the life out of me.

But I’m met with nothing but silence. “Hello?”

I drop my suitcase by the door and tug on my tie. Where is everyone?

“Coming,” Ava calls from deeper inside the house .

Chin lifted, I search the main floor for her. The tree is still up and twinkling in the corner, there’s a fire roaring in the hearth, and the smell of garlic and rosemary fills the air.

At the sound of footsteps on the hardwoods, I turn and spot Ava. Her red hair is a mess on her head, and she’s wearing a cozy-looking sweatshirt set without a stitch of makeup on her face.

She’s never looked more gorgeous.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” On instinct, I pull her into my chest, cradling her head with one hand and wrapping my other arm around her waist. Then I tug gently on her hair, tipping her head back so I can drink her in up close. “I missed you.”

Her lashes flutter, and her cheeks pinken, like maybe my reaction has surprised her. Like she didn’t expect me to be so affectionate, so honest.

Good. I like to keep my wife on her toes.

She blows out an unsteady breath, and though I’m dying to taste her, I want to give her time to adjust, so I restrain myself. For now. “Where are the kids?”

Ava shifts in my arms, like maybe she wants some space, so I release her. Then she straightens and looks up at me, wearing a smile that seems forced.

“They went to dinner with Maria. After so much travel, I assumed you’d like to decompress in a quiet house with a drink before they came home.”

Disappointment washes over me. “Decompress? Fuck no. I miss them.”

Her lips part, her eyes widening, like once again, she’s thrown off by my answer. But she quickly pulls her shoulders back and dons a neutral expression. “Well, we probably need to discuss some things before they get home. Dinner should be ready shortly.” With that, she spins on her heel and heads back to the kitchen.

With a frown, I watch her go. Something is off.

Even so, she’s right. We do have things to discuss. She didn’t answer when I FaceTimed her last night. It was late, so I wasn’t surprised that she’d fallen asleep waiting. But it means we didn’t get to have the conversation that Fitz and I discussed .

“Feel free to get yourself a drink while I finish up,” she calls.

“Would you like something?” I ask as I head toward the bar. I wasn’t planning on having a drink, but with the strange tension swirling between us, I think we both might need one.

“I’m fine.”

With a shrug, I pull out a single wine glass. We have a game tomorrow, so I only allow myself a small amount. “Did you get the documents I sent to you?”

When she doesn’t respond, I carry my wine to the kitchen, where she’s holding a bulky Dutch oven and wearing a scowl. Okay . Something is definitely off.

“Need help?”

I set my glass on the table, but when I turn to take the Dutch oven from her, she skirts around me and plops it down with a loud thud.

“Smells delicious.” It really does, and I’m hoping the compliment will soften her strange mood.

She shrugs and pulls the lid off the baking dish to reveal a seriously charred piece of meat. I think it’s supposed to be a roast, but it’s shriveled and dry. “Hope it’s good. I don’t eat meat, but I wanted to make something special for you.”

“Didn’t you eat bacon on Christmas morning?”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, I only eat pig.”

“That’s—” I frown. “An odd distinction.” Shaking off the strangeness of the moment, I pick up the serving fork and a steak knife and stab at the roast, but when I try to cut into it, the fork won’t come back out. Wiggling it back and forth, I stare down at the hunk of meat, my tongue in my cheek.

“Something wrong?” she asks in a syrupy-sweet voice.

I shake my head. “Nope, just starving. I think I’ll take the entire thing.” With the serving fork, I heft the roast up out of the dish and drop it onto my plate. As it lands with a splat, I stare at it, trying to figure out what to do next.

Should I try a bigger knife? Would a bigger knife even do me any good?

Ava sits across from me with a plate of vegetables and digs in. When she takes her second bite and I’m still staring at my food, I realize I need to do something, so I pick up the entire piece of meat, and like a caveman, I take a bite right off the top.

I chew…and I chew some more. My teeth have nothing on this steak, though. It’s terrible. I keep my face neutral as I reach for my wine and take a long swig to wash it down. “So the paperwork?” I rasp, my throat dry.

Ava smiles. “It’s on your desk. All signed.”

Relief floods me. “Excellent. I really wanted to get that part out of the way. I know the way we started this was awkward, but I’m glad we agree that this is what’s right for our family.”

Her jaw hardens as she chews. Then, with her eyes narrowed on me, she picks up my glass and downs the rest of the wine.

I cough out a laugh. “Thirsty? I can get you a glass of your own.”

“Oh, but why would we do that when what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine?”

A huff of a laugh escapes me. “Very true.” I stand and shuffle to the bar for the bottle and another glass. Looks like I’ll need a bit more to get through that roast.

“So you had your attorney draft that?” she asks as I return to the table.

I fill both wine glasses halfway and set the bottle down. “Yeah. Figured we should get it taken care of as soon as possible. This way our roles are laid out clearly.”

She picks up her glass and drains it quickly. Then she holds it out, silently signaling that I should fill ’er up. When I don’t move quick enough, she stands, reaches across the table, and snatches the bottle.

“So you read it?” She drops back into her seat.

Anxiety rushes through me as I study her. “Yes?”

She holds the bottle close to her lips, scrutinizing me with narrowed eyes. “ All of it?”

I’m not sure what she’s getting at or why she’s so unhinged, so I answer slowly. “I think so?”

An angry, closed-mouth humph is her only response. Then she pushes the chair back, causing it to screech against the hardwood floor. When she stands, she sways a bit but quickly rights herself. “Well,” she slurs, cheeks red and eyes glassy, “you can take your contract and go fuck yourself. How about this for my purpose ? I’ll be in our bedroom purposefully giving myself all the orgasms, whether you like it or not.”

Orgasms? Like it or not? What the hell?

I’m still blinking, frozen in shock, when the bedroom door upstairs slams. What the fuck just happened? And is this all because of the petition to adopt Josie?

So maybe I didn’t actually read every word, but Madi and I discussed it in detail. There isn’t a single line in it that should have upset Ava like that.

I bolt out of my seat and stride for my office, determined to get to the bottom of this. But as I cross the threshold, the front door swings open, and Josie screams “Tyler, we’re home!”

And just like that, my night is consumed by the three kids I missed more than I ever could have imagined possible before I met them. Hugs and bath time take priority, followed by three stories too many. It’s after ten when I finally sit at my desk and leaf through the stack of papers on top.

Contract for Marriage

What the…?

I flip through page after page, my jaw dropping farther as I scan each one. Shit . I’ve seen this before. It’s the damn contract Hall sent to me over Christmas. I must have accidentally sent this to the printer, rather than Madi’s petition. Fuck.

My stomach sinks, and my heart goes with it when I get to the last page and see Ava’s signature scrawled below the line that reads wife .

In that moment, I know I’m fucked. Looks like I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.