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)
I liked this woman. A lot. I was also instantly thankful that Sarah had this. A real grandmother. This was not the kind of reception she got from Cleo. Most holidays were very formal, and Cleo expected everyone to be dressed in their Sunday best, but no one could wear shoes in the house, and Belladonna was never welcome. She would be “in the way.”
Azalea stood then, and her eyes met mine. Her soft smile as she took me in made me feel welcome. “You are just as stunning as I remember,” she said. “We’ve never gotten a chance to chat and visit. I was thrilled when Wilder said you would be coming today.”
“Thank you for having me,” I replied. “I didn’t know what all you were making, but Sarah and I thought we’d make something extra to bring.”
Azalea’s eyes seemed to twinkle with delight at just having us here. It was more having her granddaughter, but it still felt as if she was pleased to see me too.
“It looks delicious. Both of you, come on in. Make yourself comfortable. Meet everyone,” she said, reaching out to take the tray in my hand. “Sarah, you follow me with those cake pops, and we will take these to the bar and set them out. We have hungry men who want to eat now and can’t seem to wait until the meal is served.” She took a bite of the cake pop in her own hand. “MMM,” she hummed, then winked at Sarah, chewing.
Sarah glanced up at me with her bright eyes shining.
I instantly felt bad that she’d missed so many Thanksgivings here. Where she would have had a much better time. Her memories would have been those she cherished. Not the uptight, uncomfortable, religious meals Cleo forced upon us. I hoped Sarah had this every year for the rest of her life.
Eighteen
Wilder
The laughter coming from the living room of my mom’s house filled my ears the moment I opened the front door. Belladonna came rounding the corner, sliding slightly on the tiled floor, then coming to an abrupt stop when she realized it was me. Her head tilted to the side, as if she wasn’t sure she was happy to see me. The poor pup probably realized that my appearance meant that Oakley would be leaving.
“Yeah, I’m thrilled to see you too,” I muttered to her and bent slightly to pet her head before walking toward the voices.
I could hear my stepbrother, Scott, telling some story about his last trip with more enthusiasm than necessary. I knew without being in there to take in the scene that it was all for Oakley’s benefit.
No one noticed me when I entered the room. My mother’s gas fireplace was lit, but then it was sixty degrees today, which was rare for November in Florida. Sarah was curled up beside my mom, looking completely content. My gaze scanned the room to find Oakley. Who was looking at me. Someone had noticed me after all.
A small smile lifted the corner of her lips. To anyone peering in from the outside, Oakley would seem like a fashion model, plucked from a billboard and placed in a room full of average people. Yet she didn’t appear uncomfortable. In fact, she seemed relaxed and … happy. Scott’s attention was completely on her, like I’d already guessed, but she didn’t mind or care. Even though there was a brunette sitting so closely to his side that she was almost in his lap.
“DADDY!” Sarah’s squeal snapped me out of my locked gaze with Oakley, and I swung my eyes back to my daughter, who was up and running toward me.
No female had ever been as happy to see me as this one was, and it felt good. It felt like it used to … before. My chest felt tight and achy as I squatted down to catch her just as she flung herself into my arms.
“YOU’RE HERE!”
Smiling, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the tight embrace. Damn, this was nice. No, it was more than nice. It was perfect. Normally, Thanksgivings with Sarah were the day after, and we shared leftovers here or at my apartment, then went to look at Christmas lights. It all depended on when Sylvia would allow me to have her.
“We waited on you to eat, but I did save you one of the best turkey cake pops, and Oakley saved you one of the pumpkin ones because she said you liked pumpkin pie.” She finished that sentence with a scrunch of her nose, making it clear she didn’t like the last one.
My gaze went back to Oakley, who was standing up now with my mom. She remembered I liked pumpkin pie. We had only had one Thanksgiving together, and it had been a tense one. Sylvia had been determined to make sure Oakley knew about my mistake.