“Oh, yeah. Every Sunday, though the space was a little more welcoming back then.”
The kitchen is in need of a major overhaul, but I’ve been dragging my feet because I can’t decide on a design scheme. Most aspects of the renovation have been a breeze, but when it comes to the kitchen, I’m just…stuck.
“I can picture it,” Ava says, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms over her stomach. “Little Knox on a stepstool, the sunlight cascading through these amazing windows, as your mom helps you read the recipes and measure ingredients.”
It’s a pretty damn accurate depiction, and it gives me an idea.
“Do you think you could help me with something?”
She perks up. “I can try. What is it?”
I gather the samples from my makeshift desk in the pantry and spread them out on the island.
“I’ve been trying to choose a design scheme for the kitchen, but I just can’t seem to decide.” Her eyes go round. “It’s going to be a total gut job. New floors, new cabinets, and new counters.”
“Knox, this is totally out of my wheelhouse. I’ve never designed a house, or a kitchen,” she adds, rushing to cut me off at the pass. “Why not just choose what you like best?”
“Trust me, I’ve tried. Many times.” The back of my neck begins to tingle, and I rub it. “The best I’ve been able to do is narrow it down, but I can’t commit. Nothing feels right. Maybe with a fresh pair of eyes, we can figure this out together.”
After all, someday this will be her kitchen too.
But it’s probably best to keep that thought to myself. For now, anyway.
“The slate cabinets are sharp,” she says, her fingers tracing the simple lines of the sample. “Very modern. Very masculine.”
“But?” I’m definitely sensing a but here.
“You could soften them up with a lighter counter, but they’ll probably show a lot of dirt and fingerprints too. If you ever have pets or kids…” She trails off, leaving my imagination to fill in the blanks.
Is that what she wants? Pets? Kids? I’d love to get a dog. I was never allowed to have one growing up, but with my travel schedule, it would be challenging during the season. As for kids, I haven’t given them too much thought. Maybe someday, but for now I’m content to focus on hockey. And Ava.
“White is always a classic, and it would amplify the sunlight in here.” She picks up a dark blue sample, and her eyes go to the cracked backsplash behind the sink. “Maybe you could add a pop of color to the island. It would be a way to honor your mom’s legacy and give a subtle nod to the kitchen where she taught you to bake.”
I stare at Ava, flummoxed. The kitchen design has been in limbo for weeks while I’ve wrestled to make a decision, unable to let go of the past or commit to the future. And in a matter of minutes, she’s identified the struggle I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—give credence.
Ava flushes. “Never mind. It was a stupid idea. Forget I said anything.”
“No, this is brilliant. You’re brilliant. What you just described? That’s exactly what I want.” I point to the blue cabinet sample. “A mix of the old and the new. A place that feels modern, yet familiar. My best memories of my mom are in this kitchen, and I want to feel her presence when I’m baking, just like I did when I was little.”
We talk it through, and by the time we’re done, we’ve got a solid plan for the kitchen. The unexpected progress is a boon, and I’m feeling pretty damn good as I boost Ava onto the island and wedge myself between her knees.
“Thank you.”
Her brow furrows. “For what?”
“For being you, and for understanding what I needed, even when I couldn’t find the words to tell you.”
She cups my face and presses her forehead to mine. “I’m glad I could help. I know how much this house means to you, and how important it is to get every detail right.”
“The funny thing is, I’ve been fixing this place up, but there’s been no timeline. No plan to move in. I never thought about what comes after, when I’m done.” I press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Now, thanks to you, I can actually see myself living in this house again, making new memories to cherish alongside the old ones.”
And I want Ava to be beside me for all of it. The question is, does she?
28
AVA
“Why doI feel like I’m going to regret this?” I ask, watching as Emerson makes her final adjustments to the camera and tripod.