Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“No worries. So, about Thanksgiving?” he said.
I chewed on my destroyed thumbnail for a moment and almost looked at the camera. “I have to stay here through lunch. But I might be free that night. Depends on when I leave. It’s a five-hour drive after.”
I didn’t want to be free. I didn’t want to go see Hamilton. I wanted to be with Wilder and Sarah all day. Admitting that sucked. More than likely, I would go home, depressed. Drink a bottle of wine and watch Christmas movies, alone.
The moment with Wilder in the kitchen had stayed with me all of that day, making me question things.
But the next three days, there was no more talking over the speaker or texting me. All contact he made was with Sarah. What I had thought might mean he wanted me around hadn’t been that at all. He really had just asked me to stay for his mother’s sake. It’d had nothing to do with him wanting me there.
I mentally scolded myself for even letting my thoughts go in that direction. I should have known better. It had been nine years. The man he was now was not the man I had once known. I was also far from that girl who had loved him with every fiber of her being.
When I pulled up to Wilder’s mom’s house, there were already four other vehicles outside. I glanced over at Sarah, who was over-the-moon excited about my being with her for Thanksgiving.
“There are a lot of people here,” I said to her.
She nodded, smiling brightly. “Yeah, that’s Uncle Scott’s Jeep and Mrs. Jojo’s red convertible. The blue car is Honey’s, and the gray truck is Pop’s.”
Great. I only recognized Honey as what Sarah called Wilder’s mom and Pop as what she called Wilder’s stepdad. I’d had no idea there was an Uncle Scott.
I nodded and reached in the backseat to get out the turkey-shaped charcuterie board we had made. This was the first time I’d driven Wilder’s Range Rover. But we’d needed the room to store the food safely and put Belladonna in the back. Wilder had put in a net screen that kept Belladonna in the very back of the car so she wouldn’t climb over while he was driving.
Belladonna barked at me, as if to remind me I needed to get her out too. I was glad that Sarah had asked about bringing her. I’d hated the idea of leaving her alone at home all day.
“I’m coming to set you free,” I assured her, then turned to Sarah. “You take in the tray of cake pops,” I told her.
They also looked like turkeys. At least, the fudge-centered ones did. The pumpkin ones had pumpkin pie centers. We had stayed up late last night, working on them. Wilder had told Sarah we didn’t need to take anything, but I wasn’t going to a house for Thanksgiving and not bringing something. I was from Georgia, for crying out loud. It was what one did.
“Some of our turkeys look like chickens,” Sarah said, giggling.
I laughed, looking over at the tray of cake pops. She was right. The turkeys hadn’t turned out as well as the pumpkin ones.
“But they’re yummy.”
“Yes, they are!” she said happily while Belladonna jumped down from the back of the Range Rover and ran over to the closest patch of grass to pee.
Sarah headed for the front door, and I followed her. I only remembered meeting Wilder’s mother at Sylvia’s funeral. I knew she had been at their wedding, but that day was not one I liked to think about. I’d been a mess emotionally and blocked out most of it. The front door to the Spanish-style home opened up, and Azalea Shelton stepped outside with her arms wide open, beaming at Sarah, who went as quickly as she could to her grandmother without dropping the cake pops.
Azalea was in her late fifties with a short brunette bob and brown eyes that were so much like Wilder’s. The bohemian dress she was wearing hung loosely on her tall, thin frame, and her earrings were feathers that almost brushed her shoulders.
“My best girl in the whole wide world!” she exclaimed, then clapped her hands as she looked down at the tray of treats Sarah was holding.
“We made these last night, Honey. The turkeys kinda look funny, but they are the best ones. They have fudge inside,” Sarah told her.
“Then, I’m going to sneak one right now,” she whispered loudly and took a turkey cake pop from the tray.
Belladonna finished her business and ran past me to get in on the action at the front door. Her bark caught Azalea’s attention, and she lifted her eyes to see the exuberant dog headed for her. Laughing, she bent down and met Belladonna face-to-face.
“So, you’re the famous Belladonna I have heard so much about. I think we will be fast friends, you and I. To make sure of it, I have some special treats just for you inside.”