The heaviness of my mom’s words makes me swallow hard. I don’t think she’s ever said anything so deep in her entire life, and I don’t know how to react to it, so I just nod and smile.

“So, it’s your birthday next week,” she says, quickly changing the subject, just as uncomfortable as I am. Shit, I forgot. I’ll be twenty-six. I wonder when Avery’s birthday is? Suddenly there are a ton of things I realize I don’t know about Avery—that’s definitely going into the big date plan. “How about the two of you come over for dinner? I’ll make my sauce. You still like pasta, right?”

“That’d be nice, ma. We’ll be there,” I say, somehow feeling like this dinner is more for my mother than my birthday.

“Good. It’s settled then. I’ll see you two at six,” she says, standing and straightening out her apron and blouse, making sure she looks her best. My mom is always put together—sometimes a little over-the-top, but she’s put together. She’s always been the biggest tip earner at Dusty’s—partly because she flirts with the fat wallets, and partly because, despite her flaws, my mom is a damn hard worker…when she needs to be.

She gives me one last smile, and heads over to greet the newest tables of customers. I don’t know why, but the smile on her face when she walks away makes me sad.

I must be frowning, because Avery is looking at me from across the bar, and she mouths, “Are you all right?” I just nod and over exaggerate my smile to compensate. I’m actually better than I’ve ever been.

The night speeds by. Wednesdays are good dinner crowds—a lot of families come in. I used to like the middle of the week when I came in here with my mom. Ray was never busy, and that’s when he’d spend time letting me mess with his guitar. I can tell Ray is still avoiding me a little, which makes me…uneasy. I love that man, but damn, I’m pretty sure I love his daughter too, and if he told me I couldn’t be with her, I’m not sure what I would do.

Avery heads to the back and holds up a finger, letting me know she’ll only be another minute, so I walk over and sit at the corner of the bar to wait for her. Ray comes out just then with a couple of books to take some inventory; I can tell he stutter steps, not sure if he wants to hang out so close to me.

“Hey, Ray. So we’ve got a good set ready for Friday night,” I say, wanting to break the damned cold ice building up between the two of us. Ray smiles and grunts—he’s not sure what to do with me.

I might be taking my life into my own hands, but I stand up at the bar and head over to where Ray’s sitting, rubbing the sweat from my palms along my jeans before sticking my hand out for him to shake. It takes him a few seconds to notice, and when he does, he laughs a little under his breath.

“I didn’t really do this right, and I’m sorry,” I say. He raises one of his graying eyebrows at me, pulling his lip in tightly. “I probably should have asked for your blessing, or something like that. But I really like her, Ray. It’s more than like. ”

He looks at my eyes and then to my hand, chewing at his cheek, considering, before finally gripping my hand, cupping it with his other hand. When he looks back up at me, he’s a little teary eyed—it’s barely there, but I notice.

When Avery walks out, she sees us shaking hands, and she stops—she doesn’t want to interrupt, so instead she waits for my cue. “I’ll see you at the house. I’m gonna head out, as soon as Avery’s done,” I say, and Ray pats my hand once more and stands with his books, nodding. Avery starts to make noise and walks out of the kitchen just then.

“Hey, Dad. I’m heading home. Need anything?” she asks, her eyes locked on mine.

“No, I’m fine baby girl. It’s inventory night, so I’ll be late. You go on,” he says, not quite looking her squarely in the face, probably because he doesn’t want her to see how emotional he is.

Ray heads through the kitchen, back to his office, and Avery leans against the bar, looking at me with her lips curled into a faint smirk.

“What’s that look for?” I ask, reaching out my hand, which she grabs. It feels so damn good, and natural, like it’s how it’s always been.

“You’re good to my dad. That’s all,” she says, leaning into me as we head through the front door and out into the empty parking lot. “I like that.”

“Yeah, well, I like you,” I say, putting my arm completely around her, and drawing her close. I wish like hell I could just take her home in my car—because I’d probably find a reason to pull over somewhere in the desert and put my lips on her body for the next thirty minutes before getting her home. But I know she needs to take Max to school in the morning, so I walk her to her car, then head to mine to follow her the few blocks to her house.