Chapter Four #2
She knows all of this, yet had somehow failed to mention a single word the last time we video chatted before I left the comfort of my apartment.
“I heard you and his mom are closer friends now.” They’ve always been friends, but apparently, they’re besties attached at the hip at this point, and I appear to know nothing at this rate.
You’d think I’ve been gone for years, not a couple of months.
Part of me wonders if I should see if my bedroom is still set up or if they’ve gone and changed that on me, too.
Maybe they’re hiding another kid they spontaneously decided to adopt or something around here, there’s no telling, but these people need to take it down a notch.
She nods, beaming brightly. “Yes, she’s over here all the time. Plus, we work together most days. I was so happy when she and Sean agreed to join us for Thanksgiving. There’s nothing like having family around the dinner table, giving thanks, and spending the day together.”
Wait, the day? And whose family? Because last time I checked, Sean and I are in no way related.
Which I’m extremely thankful for because no matter how much it still hurts to see him on TV or in town, I still want to climb the man like a Lindt chocolate Christmas tree.
Just thinking of having him here, in my space, has me needing to fan myself, and I’m not a twitterpated type of woman, trust me.
I’m cool as a Christmas peppermint martini with a chocolate sprinkled sugared rim, but when he’s around, I can’t remember my own name, let alone be blasé about the entire situation.
I thought it was only for dinner.
My voice is a bit high-pitched, my heart thundering in my chest as I double check, “They’re, uh, staying the entire day?
” I go from sweet mint julep to cinnamon red hot in a flash, from momentarily picturing him licking his fork clean while sitting across from me at the family table.
As Sam would say, this is no bueno. The turkey won’t be the only thing getting cooked if I have to sit through that scenario for long.
“Of course. You know how we do the holidays around here. It’s never just the food.”
I nearly groan out loud, but manage to hold myself back.
Grams is silently laughing to herself over in the chair, and I’d bet the old bat knows way too much for her own good, just like my mother.
She’s tickled plum pink to see me squirm in place, silently stewing over the latest development.
I’m sure this is playing right into the hero image she has of Sean.
The man can play some good hockey, but it certainly doesn’t make him a God or anything.
It’s not like he’s out here scaling trees to save kittens or anything.
Everyone in the village can skate at least a little bit, and Grams needs to remember as much.
Next thing I know, she’ll be trying to schedule dates for us to meet up, and I’m trying to stay as far away as possible from the Pines’ number eleven.
I watch as Gram gets up and helps herself to another glass of eggnog.
She sprinkles some cinnamon on top like she’s here for the flavor and not the half a bottle of booze I’d bet my right boob on that she’s spiked it with.
I’ll have to start my morning out with a glass on Thanksgiving; maybe it’ll make the day go by smoothly. It’ll be fuzzier, of that I’m sure of.
“Does anyone have a holly jolly Xanax we can spike the turkey with?” I ask, smirking as Gram cackles. Pop mutters something to himself, while Dad quietly chuckles with amusement. Mom ignores my comment completely, busying herself with putting another log on the fire.
“Did Samantha get to come home for Thanksgiving?” She asks, not paying attention to my current displeased frown as I think over my ex joining us for the holiday, and how I’d prefer to wear my stretchy pants and a loose shirt for turkey day whenever possible.
It’s the one time of the year we make it a sport of gorging ourselves and then chilling on the couch, and now I’m going to be stuck in dressy clothes for the day while being acutely aware of his proximity for the entire time.
Not good. I wonder if I can get him to cancel? Maybe puncture a tire on his snazzy truck?
“Winter?” She says my name, noticing I’d momentarily tuned out.
I try to think of what I missed and realize she’s talking about Sam. My best friend since the first day we were in kindergarten, when Martin Mckindly said he didn’t want me to sit by him, and Samantha loudly claimed I was sitting beside her for the entire year instead. Instant best friends.
“No, her husband had to work. She’ll get to come for Christmas, though.
” And I absolutely can’t wait. I miss her too much.
She’s got these two adorable kids and the nicest husband.
I was her maid of honor when she married him, and I’ve never seen her happier.
I just wish we lived closer to each other like we did growing up.
Her mom’s house is a quick fifteen-minute walk from here, a trail we used growing up, more times than I can count.
“Alright. Now that the fuss is all over, we’re heading home. Winter can take it from here; we’re calling it an early night.” Pop declares, setting the paper down while getting to his feet. He and Gram live on the property, about a ten-minute walk or so from here.
I hug them both at the door on their way out, while promising I’ll check on the animals before bed for Dad.
Facing my parents once the room is quiet, aside from the random crackle and pop from the large fireplace, I ask, “So, what’s the plan for the festival?”
Mom glances away, suddenly having nothing to add, all the while Dad looks like a deer caught in headlights.
He finally admits, “About the festival, it’s too much work.
I’m sorry, Winter, but I can’t ask that of your grandparents, and Mom has her patients she’s busy with.
I couldn’t get things started like I’d planned once I was injured. ”
Tears crest and quickly fall over my cheeks, making the room grow blurry.
I was right, I should’ve been here. If I had only taken a job closer to home, then this possibly never would’ve happened, and if it had, at least I would’ve been able to come and go without hours of distance between us.
In the past, we’d always start prepping what we could on November first. I’m twenty-six days late already, and I still have to help around the farm, so it’s not as if I can dedicate all my time to getting everything ready.
Not gonna lie, I’m feeling a bit hopeless about having enough time to be able to pull this off.
I can’t ask anyone around town like we normally would be able to, because they’re all prepping for the holidays too.
Rather than spiral in silence, I spend the evening catching up with my parents and making the rounds around our farm, checking on all the animals.
Eventually, I climb into bed, exhausted from the day, and drift off into a restless sleep.