Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Why not?” She’s immediately alarmed because she knows I’ve been all fucked in the head recently. While she said she understood I also know she was not happy over me backing out of the gala last Saturday, which was made clear when she showed up at my apartment Sunday morning to ream my ass out.
All it took was one look at me for her to realize I was suffering a heartbreak. I ended up telling her everything about Hannah.
She told me I was a dumbass. Warned me that I better figure that shit out soon, because Hannah wouldn’t wait around.
“I’m flying to South Carolina,” I tell her.
“What’s in South Carolina?”
“Hannah,” I say with a long exhale. “Going to try to fix this shit like you told me to.”
“Well,” she drawls. Since I can hear the squeak of the shopping cart wheels in the background, I can tell she’s on the move again. “I suggest you do lots of groveling and apologizing.”
“Duly noted,” I say, although I figured that much out. “And I’m sorry I won’t be there, especially about leaving you to deal with Dad alone.”
Christina laughs. “No worries. You’ll just owe me one.”
“I owe you lots more than that,” I say gently. “I love you, sis.”
“Love you too, you big buffoon. Now go get Hannah.”
“On it,” I say and then disconnect the phone.
Next on the list… call the airlines and hope I can get a flight out of here today.
CHAPTER 28
Hannah
“Hannah,” my mom says from the stove where she’s whisking the gravy. “Can you come grab the rolls out of the oven?”
“Sure,” I reply. I leave my task of slicing the canned cranberry sauce, which is my favorite part of Thanksgiving, to do as she asked.
My mom moves to the side far enough I can open the oven door, but she still stirs the gravy so it doesn’t clump. I use a towel to grab the pan of fresh rolls that are perfectly browned on top, placing it on the counter. After which, I transfer the hot rolls to a basket Mom had placed there with a decorative cloth napkin lining it.
“Mommy,” Hope gasps as she rushes into the kitchen, holding up a quarter in her hand. “Look what Uncle Toby just pulled out of my ear. And I didn’t even feel it.”
“Ask him to look for more,” I tell her with a laugh. “I’ve got to get your college fund started.”
“Okay,” she chirps and spins on her foot, running back into the living room.
“God, I love that kid.” My mom chuckles.
“How could you not?” I ask with a grin.
I return to the cranberry sauce, and my mom carefully pours the gravy into a tureen.
“You know,” she says thoughtfully, placing the empty pot back on the stove. She wipes her hands and turns to face me, “I really think moving back home is the best thing, baby.”
Frank picked Hope and me up from the airport last night and brought us to Mom’s house. She was waiting up for me. After I put a very sleepy Hope into the spare bedroom we’d share, we stayed up for about an hour talking. She made us tea and I poured my broken heart out to her, as well as my plan to move forward.
“Do you think Nelson will let you take Hope out of Nevada?” she asks worriedly.
“I don’t know,” I reply with equal worry. It’s the only thing now that could screw up my plans. “He’s not very invested in her emotionally. I’ve found out a lot of stuff since she came back to live with me, and he essentially ignored her or pawned her off on his flavor-of-the-month girlfriend. I can’t imagine he’d put up much of a fight.”
“What if you offered him financial incentive?” my mom asks slyly.
“Like what?”
“Waive child support,” she suggests. “You could easily make that up by you and Hope living here with me rent free while you go to school.”
“That’s a thought,” I muse as I finish the cranberry sauce. “But how about we put this out of our minds and eat?”
The gravy, rolls, and cranberry sauce were the last items to prepare. All the other food is already on the dining room table.
“Frank, Toby, Hope,” my mom hollers as she takes her apron off. “Get in the dining room. We’re ready to eat.”
I hear some scuffling and something crashes, which tells me Toby and Frank are trying to beat each other through the door. Hope giggles, and my mom and I share a smile.
It’s really, really good to be home.
Mom grabs the basket of rolls and the tureen of gravy, while I collect the plate of cranberry sauce. When we walk into the dining room, Toby and Hope are sitting on one side and Frank on the other. Frank helps clear some room for the rest of the food.