Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.” When she continues to stare, scouring my face for answers, I admit, “Just needed to get away for a little while.”
“Well, I’m glad you decided to stop by for a visit. We’re always happy to have you here.” She waves me to the back of the house. “Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes, so you’re just in time.”
The closer we get to the kitchen, the more my mouth waters. If there’s one thing I’ve missed while at college, it’s Jenna’s cooking. She’s a culinary whiz in the kitchen. If you asked what my favorite dish was, I wouldn’t be able to pick just one. There are way too many to choose from.
I beeline to the mini-fridge and grab an orange Gatorade before twisting off the cap and settling on a stool tucked beneath the massive marble island. After a quick swig, I ask, “Do you need any help?”
It looks like she’s got about fifty things going on at once. Jenna shakes her head before grabbing a strainer full of green beans and dumping them into the boiling water. Then she stirs the sauce and peeks in the oven to check the rolls. “Nope. Everything is almost done.”
Like I said—total culinary whiz.
I cock my head, listening for other signs of life within the house. “Is Dad home?”
“Not yet.” She shoots a glance over her shoulder, her gaze once again touching on mine. “He had a meeting that ran late but should be home soon.”
I nod and pick absently at the label on the plastic bottle. As much as I’ve tried to shut out everything that happened this week, it continues to press in at the edges. If I thought I could escape it by coming home, I was wrong.
Jenna checks the noodles and green beans for a second time. Satisfied that everything is coming along as it should be, she picks up her glass of wine and takes a sip as her gaze roves carefully over my face. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?”
Fuck.
Although...did I really expect anything less? All the woman has to do is look at me sideways, and she knows there’s a problem. If I was trying to run away from it all, this is probably the last place I should have turned up. Unfortunately, it’s too late to do anything about it now. I’m here. And she’s staring at me expectantly. I blow out a lengthy breath and try to decide how best to handle the situation. I hate lying.
Especially to Jenna.
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I finally mumble.
“If that were true, would you have come here?”
Well, damn.
My gaze jerks to her, and I realize with a flash of insight that she’s right. Maybe I told myself it wasn’t the reason, but it turns out I was wrong. And my stepmother knows it. Just like she always does. I drag a hand over my face, unsure where to begin. Everything feels like such a mess.
When I remain silent, her voice softens. “Does this have anything to do with Alyssa?”
“Yeah,” I pop my shoulder and mumble, “I guess so.”
It’s a relief when the timer on the microwave beeps, and she swings away. Without her steady gaze focused on me, I no longer feel like a bug under a microscope. Jenna strains both the noodles and green beans before taking the rolls out of the oven and placing them on the counter to cool. Then she pulls out two plates, adds a heaping of both noodles and stroganoff along with the vegetable and a bun before sliding the dish in front of me. After making another one for herself, she settles on a stool at the island.
I dig in, taking a forkful of noodles, meat, and mushrooms before stuffing them in my mouth. The first bite has my eyes drifting shut. Even though Jenna raised me better than to talk with my mouth full, I can’t resist saying, “Mmmm, this is so good.”
Her lips quirk. “I’m glad you like it.”
“More like love it,” I add, shoving in another bite.
“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of leftovers. I’ll package some up for you to take back for Beck.”
With a frown, I straighten on the stool. “Screw Beck.”
A burst of laughter escapes from her. “No, thank you.”
My lips tremble at the corners before I plow my way through my dinner. What is it about a homecooked meal that helps settle everything rioting deep inside? Or maybe it’s the company. At this point, I’m none too sure.
“Do you feel any better?” she asks.
I nod. Strangely enough, I do. Although, that doesn’t mean everything isn’t still a mess.
“Good. Can I get you a second helping?”
I pat my belly. “If I eat another bite, I’ll probably explode.”