“She had an ependymoma, grade two, brain tumor. The doctors did surgery on it, and she had radiotherapy.”
“God, I’m sorry,” I say.
“She’s doing much better now, but yeah, it was a pretty rough time. We’d lost my mom only a few years before in a car accident.”
Her mother died.
“Jesus, Evie.” I squeeze her hand.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Listen to me talking about my woes, and it’s only our second date.”
“Don’t ever be sorry. I want to hear about it…I want to know you,” I tell her in all seriousness.
She rests her head against the seat, looking across at me. All I want right now is to hold her in my arms and kiss away every bad thing that has happened to her.
She lets out a breath before speaking. “My mom and dad were in the car on the way back from the mall. They’d been out buying my birthday presents. A truck driver had a heart attack behind the wheel, went through the median, and hit their car.”
Her eyes are filled with tears, and my heart contracts in my chest.
“Mom died on impact, which I’m glad for—you know, because she didn’t have to suffer any pain.” A tear runs from her eye, and she brushes it away. “Dad was in the hospital for a long time. Severe head trauma. He has problems with his short-term memory, and he lost use of his right arm. So, he can’t work anymore.”
Jesus.
Now, I’m seeing the reason she works so many hours at Grady’s.
It makes me want to give her every cent I have.
She lets out another breath, swiping her fingers under her eyes. “Look at me, getting teary. I really am sorry.”
“Like I said before, don’t ever be sorry.” I clear my clogged throat. “I think you’re amazing and so strong to have gone through all of that and still have the ability to smile that beautiful smile of yours.”
I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to it. I rest our bound hands down on my thigh, and I don’t plan on letting go of her for the rest of the drive. Or maybe ever.
“What about your family?” she asks. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“I’m an only child.”
Don’t ask about my parents, I silently wish.
I don’t want to tell her who my mother is. People always change toward me the instant they know, and I want to keep things with Evie just the way they are. I want her to stay looking at me the way she is right now, like she sees only me and not my mother.
“What about your folks? What do they do?”
Fuck.
No getting out of it now. I’m not going to lie to her.
I blow a breath out. “My mother…she’s an actress.”
“Cool. Stage or TV? Although, I don’t get a chance to watch TV, and I don’t go to the theater, like ever, so I might not know her. I apologize in advance for my ignorance.” She smiles at me, wide, and it’s the most beautiful thing.
She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Keep looking at me like that, Evie. Please don’t ever stop.
“My mother is Ava Gunner.”
I keep my eyes on her for as long as I can. I see the recognition of my mother’s name flicker in her eyes.
Then, I wait for it—the change.
But it doesn’t come.
“So, does that make you Adam Gunner?”
Huh?
“Well, I’m not James Bond.” I laugh, a little unsure of what to do in this moment.
“Hey, smart-ass!” She gives me a light jab in the arm. “I meant, I didn’t know your surname, and I know actresses can have stage names, so I wondered if that was your surname or if you have a different one. What’s wrong—”
It’s at this point that I’ve slammed on the brakes. Luckily, the road is clear of cars behind me.
I lean over and grab her face, and I kiss her, hard.
I kiss her because she doesn’t care who my mother is. She cares who I am.
And to me, that is everything.
When I break away, I’m breathing heavily. Evie’s breaths are coming out in sharp, short little gasps, and her cheeks are flushed.
“Wow. Okay,” she murmurs. “Not that I’m complaining—because…holy kiss—but…what was that for?”
I press my forehead to hers and stare deep into her eyes.
“I just told you that my mother was Ava Gunner, and you didn’t care.”
Her eyes soften on me. “Do people always care?”
I curl my fingers around her ears, taking her hair behind them. “Mmhmm.”
“I do know your mom is really famous, but I’m not a big movie person. I don’t really get time to watch films, except for Disney movies with Casey. Now, if you’d told me your mom was Stephen King—well, not your mom because that would be weird if your mom was a dude, but you know what I mean. But, yeah, if she’d been him, then it would have been a different story. I would have jumped your bones for sure.”
“You’d have jumped my bones?” I raise a brow.
A stain appears on her cheeks. “Well, maybe not jumped your bones, but I’d have definitely been excited.”
“Good to know.”
She presses her small hands to my face. “Sure, it’s cool that your mom is Ava Gunner, and I’m sure she’s a really nice person. But, honestly, all I care about is who you are. And from what I know already, I really, really like you.”