You’re a gift. That’s what Ava’s adopted parents had told her from the time she could walk. There were times when Ava considered her adoption a gift. Other times, like now, she considered it a curse. She’d grown up an only child, doted on by her wealthy adoptive parents who owned and operated a vineyard in Sonoma, California. From the outside looking in, it would seem that Ava Giles had the perfect life. She had access to the best hair stylists, all the designer clothes she wanted, a sleek red convertible sports-car, a handsome best friend-turned-boyfriend who was fond of her. However, appearances were often deceiving. With all of the perks came a truckload of responsibility, and she wasn’t ready for any of it. She wanted to be free from the constraints—free to live her life the way she wanted to live it. Free to just simply be.
Although Ava’s parents would deny it to their dying breaths, they brought Ava into their world with the expectation that she would make them happy. After all, the reason her mom had adopted her in the first place was to stave off the depression she felt over not being able to have a child of her own. Her mom’s face would soften with tender recollection as she told the story, “Todd and I were at a low point. We’d even talked of getting a divorce. Then you came along, and everything changed.” Ava became the budding hope of all the dreams her mom had failed to live out in her own life.
When Ava was five, she was enrolled in dance lessons. Then there was piano, guitar, and voice lessons. In high school, she’d wanted to learn more about art and join the debate team, but her mother insisted that she become a cheerleader instead. Her mother was picky about the clothes Ava wore and what friends she hung out with. The list went on and on. Things got better when Ava graduated high school and went off to college. She was free to make her own friends and choose her own leisure activities. Now, however, she was being pulled right back into her mother’s web, and this time, there didn’t seem to be any hope of escaping it.
As Ava turned into the parking lot of the cheap diner in a sketchy part of Atlanta, her phone buzzed. She pulled into a parking space and reached for her phone. She frowned. It was a text from her boyfriend, Hudson.
Where are you? Your mom’s freaking out. Are you okay? Call me.
She clutched the phone, her finger hovering over the screen. What should she say? That she’d caught a red-eye flight to Atlanta, Georgia to meet up with her birthmother whom she’d connected with on Facebook? She swallowed the high-pitched cackle rising in her throat. No, she couldn’t tell Hudson that. He’d just go and blab it to her mother who would blow her cork. She tried to think. What could she say?
I’m fine. I just need some space.
Hudson would understand that, especially after the heated argument Ava and her mother had yesterday morning.
Where are you?
She held her breath, her thumping heartbeat keeping pace with the rat-a-tat-tat of the bass beat of the song playing on the radio. Hudson wasn’t a bad guy. He was just caught up in the expectations of his family … same as Ava. Hudson didn’t love Ava any more than she loved him. The two of them were lifelong friends, and that’s all they’d ever be. The biggest difference was that Hudson was content to live out the life his parents had dictated for him, whereas Ava wasn’t.
I need to let you go. I’ll be back in touch when I can. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’ll be home soon. I promise.
She clicked the side button to silence her phone as she stuffed it back into her purse and turned off the car engine. She surveyed her surroundings, a sense of uneasiness trickling down her spine as her eye caught on a bearded homeless man in tattered clothes pushing a rusty shopping cart loaded down with all of his personal belongings. This is where her birthmother, Norma, had suggested they meet. Was this diner indicative of the kind of life that Norma lived? When Norma first reached out to Ava through a private message on Facebook, Ava had been shocked. Her adoption had been closed, and while Ava had yearned to find out more about her birthmother when she was a teenager, she’d long since put all hopes of it aside. Then, out of the blue, Norma Kendrick contacted her, asking if they could meet. Maybe this was a bad idea. Ava didn’t even know for sure if Norma Kendrick was indeed her birthmother.
What if this was some sort of scam? Ava could simply drive out of this parking lot and go straight back to the airport. No one would be the wiser. She’d go back to Sonoma and live the life her mother wanted her to live. Wasn’t that what Ava had been bred to do—make things go smoothly for her parents, even if it meant giving up on what she wanted? No, Ava had come this far. She owed it to herself to see this through.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, taking a quick snapshot of her appearance, trying to see herself as her birthmother would. She winced at the half moon shadows beneath her eyes, evidence that she’d hardly slept on the plane. She looked past the weariness, studying herself critically as she mentally ran through the list of her features. A creamy complexion. Long hair that was naturally mid-toned blonde, but Ava wore it red to match her adopted mother. Deep dimples. Even white teeth. A faint sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Large violet eyes with long lashes. Many called Ava beautiful in an all-American girl sort of way, but Ava would have preferred olive-toned skin and glossy dark hair like her best friend, Margot. Oh, well. It wasn’t like she’d gotten to choose her looks any more than she got to pick her birthmother or adoptive parents. She grunted at the absurdity of her thinking. No one got to pick their parents.
Taking in a calming breath, she tucked her purse under her arm and got out of the rental car, making sure to lock the door. Her heart pounding like a jackhammer, she walked briskly into the diner. She stepped inside, the smell of coffee and lemon disinfectant invading her senses. It was nine a.m., a time that would presumably be busy, but the diner was near empty. The reception stand was vacant. Ava surveyed the area. Her stomach tightened. Was Norma even here?
A short-haired woman with tattoos and more body piercings than Dennis Rodman stepped from the kitchen and traipsed up to the stand. Beneath her orange apron, she wore ripped jeans that were cut off at the ankles and black high-top Converse tennis shoes. She blew a large pink bubble and popped it. “How many?” she asked in a disinterested tone as she retrieved a menu from the side rack.
“Actually, I’m looking for someone,” Ava began tentatively.
The woman got a good look at Ava, her eyes bugging. “Wow. It’s like seeing double.” She looked Ava up and down. “I mean, the hair’s different. And you’re obviously the fashionista, but man …”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I know who you’re here to see,” the hostess said with a sly smile.
“You do?” This was strange.
“Yep.” She waved a hand. “This way.” She led Ava to the back of the diner. “Here you are.” She slapped the menu down on the table as she moved away.
Sitting on one side of the booth was a frail woman with stringy blonde hair streaked with silver. Her skin was loose and patchy atop her skeletal face. Hollow circles were carved beneath her eyes. The color of those eyes was hauntingly familiar—a striking violet. Ava’s gaze moved to the other side of the booth, her breath freezing a hard ball in the back of her throat. The woman staring back at her through startled eyes was the mirror image of herself.
The floor seemed to shift beneath her feet as Ava wobbled, then put her hand on the back of the booth to steady herself. “W—who are you?” she croaked.
Rather than answering, the girl looked to the older woman sitting across from her for an explanation. It seemed to take forever for the broken-down woman to respond in a raspy, smoker’s voice. “Ava, meet your identical twin sister Luna.”
