Chapter Sixteen
I’ve just finished getting ready to go to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving. We’re super casual, and sweatpants or anything with elastic is encouraged. It will be a small group this year, just Mom, Dad, and me, as it has been since Jamie and Ethan began their professional hockey careers.
I’ve put on a V-neck Miami Manatees T-shirt and a pair of black track pants with a stripe down the side.
My hair is piled up in a messy bun, and there’s no makeup on my face.
I’m ready for Mom’s cornbread dressing and mashed potatoes and gravy.
As I told Aiden last night, I prefer a carb-forward Thanksgiving meal.
Don’t give me any green beans. Or a salad.
I want to eat a stupid amount of dressing and potatoes, lots of gravy, a little bit of turkey, and a big slice of chocolate pecan pie.
I can feel a smile forming on my lips the second Aiden comes to mind. He’s been on the road for hockey this week, and I’m so glad he’s home again. Luckily it was an East Coast road trip, so we were on the same time zone, and I was able to stay up late so we could talk after games.
Today, he’s having Thanksgiving with Wyatt and Archer Reeves, a single forward on the second line, and they’re heading out to a restaurant.
But tonight is when I get to celebrate with Aiden.
We’re going to have leftovers and pie, our own little Thanksgiving, and I can’t wait to spend more time with him.
I also have a little surprise for him. I went out and bought a fake Christmas tree, white lights, and lots of ornaments. I’ve never had a Christmas tree before in my own place, so I thought it would be fun for us to decorate it together.
I round up Mochi and Matcha, putting them back in their condo, and get ready to go. As I’m walking out the door, my phone buzzes, and I look at the screen to see Mom texted me:
Sweetie, have you left yet? Any way you can swing by the store? It should be deserted today, not the chaos that it was earlier this week.
I enter the elevator and type back:
Mom, I’d be willing to go through chaos for you. What do you need?
Mom is typing …
I somehow forgot the cranberry jelly in a can that is the only kind your dad will eat. That’s it.
I know Dad loves the cranberry sauce that slides out of the can in one big blob with ridges.
I reply:
Consider it done.
Ding!
The elevator reaches the parking garage level, and I step out, making my way to my car. I slip behind the wheel and head toward the supermarket that is on the way to their house. I easily find a parking space, and as I’m about to get out of the car, I get a text from Aiden, which I quickly read:
STILL WAITING ON WYATT.
I grin at that. Wyatt is always late, and Aiden hates being late. It’s one of the many things I’ve learned during our video chats and text conversations.
Brooks is typing …
Are you at your parents’ house?
I reply:
Nope. I’m about to pop into the supermarket and get the cranberry jelly that slides out of the can in one piece for my dad.
Brooks is typing …
That’s the best kind! I’m with Coach on that one.
The second I read the word “coach,” my heart slides into my stomach. It’s like a slap-to-the-face reminder of who my dad is in Aiden’s world.
And how much jeopardy I’m putting him in by being with him.
Conflict rises within me, but I immediately push it back down. I know what Aiden wants.
Me.
I have never felt this way about any man, and I have to trust that this can’t be wrong.
And that somehow, I’ll be able to make my dad see that.
I text him back:
I’ll pick up a can for us tonight. Anything else I need to get?
Brooks is typing …
Just you. I wish I were spending all day with you.
All of my doubts disappear. Being with Aiden is right. I know it with every cell in my body.
I message him back:
We’ll be together tonight, and that’s all that matters.
I end my chat with Aiden and step out of my car.
It’s mild and sunny today, with a temperature in the upper seventies.
Mom was right—there’s not a lot of people around, so it’s quiet.
I grab a cart and move through the store.
Yes, technically, I’m here for two cans of cranberry jelly, but I love wandering through the supermarket, so I’m going to take one lap around and see what I can find.
As the electric doors open for me, I’m greeted by a massive Christmas display and holiday music being piped in through the sound system.
I inwardly groan. Thanksgiving really gets the short stick between Halloween and Christmas, and it’s a shame because it’s a great holiday.
It’s about being with your family and eating lots of carbs.
There’s no pressure to have gifts or the perfect costume. How can that be wrong?
And more to my point, not celebrated equally?
I push my cart past a massive display of red and white poinsettias, stacked upward in a Christmas-tree shape, and decide before I have a look around, I need to get the cranberry jelly first. Otherwise I’ll find a whole bunch of other crap to put in my cart, forget the jelly, and fail the mission my mom gave me in the first place.
I figure cranberry jelly must be on an endcap somewhere.
Surely they haven’t filed that away in place of peppermint coffee pods, right?
I keep my gaze laser-focused, trying to find the all-important cranberry blob in a can, and spot an endcap filled with boxes of stuffing mix, with cranberry cans stocked in the middle.
Success!
I pull my cart up to the display, and as I’m about to retrieve a can, there’s a loud BANG!
Suddenly, boxes of stuffing are flying off the shelves.
I shield my face with my hand as a tsunami of herbed stuffing attacks me, falling everywhere, bouncing off my head and body.
I hear the whole side of the display crash with a boom, and the boxes keep hitting me on the head.
I let out a yelp, and I hear an “OH MY GOD!”
Within seconds, it’s over. I remove my hands from my head, stunned.
Then I look around, and there are boxes of stuffing EVERYWHERE.
Even my cart now has about ten boxes of stuffing.
Cranberry cans also came to the party, and they are part of the mess on the floor.
I’m just grateful none of those hit me in the head.
I look over to see a cart has plowed into the right side of the stuffing display, and it collapsed. There’s a girl in her twenties standing frozen at her cart, her hands gripping the handle, her beautiful face twisted in complete mortification.
Meanwhile, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” is being played overhead.
I burst out laughing. I’m laughing so hard, tears spring to my eyes, and the girl who crashed into me begins to laugh, too. Then horror enters her blue eyes.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” she asks.
“I’m still standing,” I tease. “And I’m okay.”
She exhales loudly. “I’m so glad. I feel horrible about this. I was—” She abruptly stops speaking, turning panicked. “My phone!” she cries, looking around. “Where is my phone?”
I stare down at the piles and piles of stuffing surrounding us. “It has to be buried in here somewhere.”
“Shit!” she gasps, as she begins to move boxes aside.
I crouch down to help her. We’re frantically digging through piles of stuffing boxes when finally I come across her phone. On it, there’s a video playing of a sexy race car driver, looking hot and sweaty, his inked hands holding a bottle of icy water up to his mouth.
The girl sees me looking at the screen and clears her throat. “Um … that’s the reason I crashed into the endcap,” she confesses.
I hand her the phone. “I can see why. Who is it?”
“Formula 1 driver Xavier Williams. My husband,” she adds, grinning at me. Then she grows serious. “Please know I’m kidding about that. He’s not really my husband. I don’t plan on stalking him and trying to make him become my husband. I just enjoy looking at him.”
I study her for a moment. She has long blondish-brown hair that is swinging around her shoulders, and she’s dressed casually in a black T-shirt and jeans.
“Oh, I might have similar videos saved in my phone,” I say, thinking of the TikToks and Connectivity Story Shares of Aiden I have collected.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” the girl says. She bends over and begins putting stuffing boxes back on the shelf.
“No, I’m not,” I assure her, bending down again to help her.
“Oh please, this is my mess, I’m sure you have better things to do on Thanksgiving than help me pick up dry stuffing mix.”
I pick up another box and set it on the shelf. I look over at the other half of the display, the half that is still standing, and it’s artfully grouped. I look back at what we are doing, and it’s a disaster.
The girl stops putting boxes up and follows my gaze. “Crap, it’s like the Jenga of stuffing boxes!”
I burst out laughing. I like this girl. She’s funny, and she doesn’t take herself too seriously.
Then a thought hits me. I’ve heard stories about people finding dates at the supermarket, saying it’s a place where you can meet someone. I know there have even been some singles’ nights at some stores for mingling.
Would it be weird to try and make a friend at the grocery store?
I can’t decide if it’s weird or inspired.
The girl goes back to stacking boxes, and I bite my lip, wondering how strange it would be if I asked her to get a coffee or something. I decide to try talking to her as we clean up the mess. “My name is Scarlett, by the way.”
“I’m Hadleigh,” she says.
“Do you have big plans for this Thanksgiving?”
She snorts. “I’m going to have lunch with my mom, dinner with my dad, and listen to them each bash the other one like they have done for years, even though they’re divorced.
But then I get to have pie at my best friend’s house, so that makes it better, even if my best friend is in Qatar.
” Hadleigh pauses. “Sorry, were you looking for a general, ‘Oh, nothing major, just dinner’ kind of answer?”
I smile as I continue to put boxes back on the shelf. “I like your answer, actually. And wow, Qatar?”
“She travels all the time for her job,” Hadleigh explains. “What about you?”
“I’m going to have dinner with my parents—my brothers don’t live in Miami, so it’s the three of us. I’m here on a mission, actually. To pick up this,” I say, holding up a can of jellied cranberries. “This is a must for my dad.”
Hadleigh’s lips twist. “I’m not a fan of that. I like the berry kind better.”
“I can eat either, I’m Switzerland on it. But there has to be lots of mashed potatoes, gravy, and cornbread dressing or I’m out.”
“Oh my God, same! That’s the best part!”
We finish up the last of the boxes and I look over at Hadleigh. Do I ask her if she’d like to meet for coffee? Will she think it’s weird? I mean, we’ve talked for about five minutes.
She might think I’m a whackadoo.
Or she might be down for potentially making a new friend.
I think of the chances I’ve taken on Aiden. Things I never would have done before, and I have Aiden now because I was willing to be brave.
He inspired me to take chances.
And I’m going to let him inspire me now.
“I know this is going to sound weird,” I say slowly, “but you have a really good vibe about you.”
Hadleigh’s face brightens. “Oh, that’s so nice of you to say. I can say the same about you.”
“I was wondering if you’d want to meet up for a coffee and hang out. If you’re game for that.”
I anxiously watch her face.
A bright smile fills it. “I would love that,” she says. She swipes a few things on her phone and hands it to me. “You can put your contact info in.”
“Do you want me to call myself ‘Herb Stuffing Girl’ so you remember?” I ask.
She laughs loudly at that, and I type in “Scarlett” and hand the phone to her. She looks down at it and begins to type. “Here, this is better,” she declares, showing me the screen.
Scarlett Herb Stuffing Girl
I burst out laughing. She types again, and my phone buzzes in my hand. I glance down at the screen:
Sorry I tried to kill you with stuffing, but so glad I got to meet you.
I’m bubbling over with happiness. “I’m so glad you want to meet up. I’ll text you some dates later.”
“Perfect. Enjoy your dressing,” she says cheerfully.
“You too,” I say as she pushes her cart and heads down another aisle.
I take a moment to absorb what happened. I might have made a new friend today. All because I was brave. I don’t think I knew how much fear had been holding me back from making friends. Dumb fears, like fear of looking stupid or being rejected.
Which easily could have happened. However, I would have survived if it did.
I took this chance because of Aiden. Since I found him—and found courage I didn’t know I could have—it’s spilled over to this area of my life, too. I might have made a new friend because of it.
I put two jars of canned cranberry jelly in my cart and begin to peruse the store happily. I’m changing because of him, I think. In the best way possible.
And I can’t wait to see how my life continues to change because Aiden’s in it.