Ava's POV
I stormed into my room, slammed the door a little too hard, and then dramatically collapsed face-first onto my bed like the entire universe had personally betrayed me.
I raised a child who kisses girls. In school. During broad daylight. With tongue.
"That's it. I've failed. I'm a failed mother," I moaned into the mattress, clutching a pillow like it was a life raft in a sea of teen hormones.
I heard the soft knock—Ray, obviously, because who else would come check on me five minutes into my very serious emotional crisis?
"I'm fine!" I yelled. "Don't come in, I'm just wallowing!"
The door opened anyway.
Of course it did.
He stood there, infuriatingly calm, hands in his pockets, like he hadn't just watched me almost faint at the sight of my baby—my innocent little Sebby—playing out a scene from a K-drama in the schoolyard.
"I'm spiraling," I told him dramatically, sitting up just to glare. "And you're not even panicking."
"I never panic," he said, walking over like a human weighted blanket. "And technically, he is seventeen."
"Seventeen is still a minor! And also—how long has this been going on? How many girls? Did he brush his teeth? What if he gets heartbreak? Oh my God, Ray, he's going to get heartbreak and then I'm going to have to spoon-feed him ice cream while trying not to cry. I cannot go through heartbreak and finals with him!"
He just sat beside me on the bed. I dropped my head on his shoulder and let out a long, tortured sigh.
"I thought I raised him better," I whispered.
"You raised him great," he said softly. "He said no to a proposal last week. He respects women. He communicates. He's smart. He still kisses you goodnight when he's not being a hormonal cave goblin."
I gave a weak laugh and looked up at him. "But he's kissing girls, Ray."
He nodded slowly, solemnly. "Yeah… yeah, that one's gonna sting for a while."
I groaned and buried my face in his chest. "Hold me before I google 'boarding schools in Alaska' "
Ray held me.
Like he always did.
And I knew—even when I was being ridiculous, dramatic, and spiraling into existential mom-crises—he'd be right here.
Every time.v