Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Mila
The last few weeks have flown by. With the holidays quickly approaching, I’ve been busier than ever making pies, breads, and treats for everyone’s festivities.
I don’t mind it, even when the days are long and hard on my body.
It's what I love doing. Making an extra apple pie for Mrs. Shank’s Thanksgiving because she knows her sister-in-law will eat almost a whole one, or putting a few extra cookies in for Mr. Davis’ order because they’re his wife’s top pregnancy craving and he doesn’t want to be without.
Stretching out, I hear my phone chime. Probably Kash again.
Over the last week or so, he’s taken to sending me random messages throughout the day.
It’s always some type of fun fact. I’ve looked at his messages more than I care to admit.
There’s something endearing about a big, tattooed man like Kash.
He’s got this happy-go-lucky side to him, and I thought it was all just an act, but I’m starting to see it’s just who he is.
He also has a serious side, and I’m trying to figure out which one is real.
He stops by occasionally to chat before he goes into the shop.
He always brings me some type of sandwich or wrap, saying they gave him a double by accident.
Given that it ‘accidentally’ happens every time he’s here, I’m thinking that’s a big fat lie.
Even if it is a sweet gesture, it makes me wonder how long I can hold out on the whole ‘just friends’ thing.
Grabbing my phone, I try not to let the stupid grin cross my face when I see his newest fun fact.
Future Husband: You need approximately 540 peanuts to make a jar of peanut butter. How many do you go through with those cupcakes?
Future Husband: A group of crows is called a ‘murder’. Can you imagine? “Look at that murder over there.”
Laughing, I can’t help but wonder what goes through his brain most of the day.
Me: I probably use thousands of peanuts a week, and everyone knows that a group of crows is a murder.
Future Husband: Fine. But Australia is wider than the moon.
Me: It is not.
Future Husband: Google it.
Sighing, I do a quick search and son of a bitch, he’s right. How is a continent bigger than the moon?
Future Husband: You looked it up, didn’t you?
Me: Maybe.
Future Husband: Tell me I was right.
Me: No.
Future Husband: Well, that’s not nice.
Me: I never said I was.
Biting my lip, I watch as the dots appear and disappear a few times. I shouldn’t encourage him, but he’s a fun guy. Too bad all he wants is a fun time.
Future Husband: Oh, Sweetheart. I have no doubt you can be nice... with the right... motivations...
Heat pools in my stomach as I picture all the ways that Kash can motivate me to be nice.
His hands on my body, my legs on his shoulders.
Nope. Not going there. I don’t bother to reply.
Instead, I put my phone on silent, ignoring it for the afternoon.
I have too much work to get done. I don’t have time to flirt with my friends.
Well, I guess my Kash problem is solved.
Cora showed up to Thanksgiving with just Noah, looking like her heart had been broken.
After she told Mara and I what happened, we convinced her to stay here with us.
Mara is seething and threatening to cut off body parts when Noah isn’t around.
I don’t think Cora’s told him what happened yet. I don’t envy her.
I’m disappointed for my friend. She was finally starting to move forward, and I thought Atlas was good for her, but maybe not.
We’ve been trying to keep her mind off things and help where we can, but Cora has always been independent.
“Do you want me to grab you anything from your house?” I ask her as we watch TV. I know she isn’t really watching it. She’s been staring off into space for the last ten minutes and didn’t even notice when I muted it. Mara decided to go into the shop for a bit, but I wanted to hang out.
“No. I’m fine. Matt is going to get me a new lock, and then I’ll head home after I get done shopping for Noah.” She sighs. “I need to get back to normal. It was a pipe dream, Mils.”
Pulling her into a hug, I say a prayer that, somehow, it’s all a misunderstanding and that Atlas will pull his head out of his ass, but who knows. She just seemed so happy, and if someone like Cora can’t find happiness, I doubt there’s any hope for the rest of us.
“I’m good, Mila. I promise. I’m going to head out though. I want to be able to grab some stuff for Christmas before I get Noah from school. By the time I get done, I’ll meet Matt at my house with the new lock, and then I’ll just keep going.”
“Do you want some company? I probably still need a couple things for Mom and Dad,” I offer, hoping she takes me up on it. Cora just seems so sad.
“Nah.” She stands. “I’m good. I’ll text you later.” Heading out the door, she hollers out, “Bye, Willa! Bye, Daniel!”
Heading into the kitchen, I watch my parents washing the dishes side by side.
The way they love each other is always something I wanted for myself.
I don’t do hookups, and maybe I’m just not as experienced because of it, but I’d rather have something meaningful than something that makes me feel cheap.
They’re whispering to each other at the sink, and Mom starts giggling.
The way my dad looks at her makes me cringe a bit inside.
I mean, I’m happy they’re happy and in love, but they’re my parents...
it’s a bit gross. They didn’t have an easy time when they struggled to conceive, and it nearly ended them, but here they are, happy as ever.
Deciding not to bother them, I quietly grab my coat and keys. Maybe I’ll just take myself down to the hardware store and get the pipe fitting I need to fix my sink. I found a video that should help with the repair. I don’t need a man. I can do things on my own.