Chapter 23
“Hey, baby. Happy Thanksgiving! Are you having fun with gramps and gran?” Eve hadn’t seen them in a year or so, other than the time they’d come down for her sixth birthday, so even though I hated sharing her with them on a holiday, they were her grandparents—the only ones she had left.
“We had lots of fun. They took me to the Space Needle yesterday! Did you know it’s like the highest place ever?”
I closed my eyes, simultaneously cringing and celebrating how grown up she’d become. She was still my little girl, but she’d matured, possibly beyond her years, and she had opinions and ideas and dreams.
Thank God she hadn’t developed an interest in boys yet.
“Have you ever been there, Mom?”
“Nope. We’ll have to go sometime. I’m sure Gage—”
I shot a stricken look at Simone, who returned my stare with a sympathetic tilt of her mouth.
“Listen, I’m so happy you’re having fun, but I’m gonna let you go so you can spend some time with your grandparents. Tell them I said Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Okay! I love you,” she said.
“Love you too. See you on Sunday.”
With a sigh, I handed Simone her phone. “She’s going to be devastated, unless…”
Simone shook her head. “Give yourself a day or two, then figure out what you’re going to do. Maybe you’ll be back in the devil’s lair by then…” She halted upon my scowl. “Or maybe not. Either way, teleport across that bridge when you get to it.”
How she managed to turn my scowl into laughter was beyond me. “What do you need help with?”
She quirked a brow. “Only everything. I kinda suck at cooking. I managed to get the turkey stuffed and in the oven.”
“Good thing I’m here then.” We got to work, and as I peeled potatoes, she chattered about some relationship drama at the hospital between a doctor and a head nurse.
But she was also trying to follow the directions on putting together a green bean casserole.
Watching her multitask was entertaining, and a little scary when she almost dumped in too much cream of mushroom soup.
“Jeez, Simone. I think you need to take a breather.”
She plopped onto a barstool. “I’m sorry. I’m just really fucking nervous right now.”
“How come?”
“Because I invited Ian.”
The peeler stalled in my hand. “Oh, well…that makes sense. You guys are dating now, so why shouldn’t you spend the holiday together?” As I resumed peeling the last potato, I didn’t have to peek at her from the corner of my eye to know she was studying me.
Rising from the stool, she crossed to the oven and checked on the turkey. “Are you sure about this? I was your friend long before his…”
“You can say it, Simone. I’m not going to burst into pregnant tears, I swear.”
Closing the oven, she afforded me a sheepish smile. “Just checking. You’re already in enough turmoil. I don’t want to make it worse.”
“You’re my friend. My best friend, in fact.
And he’s Gage’s brother, soo…” I said, moving the pot of peeled spuds onto the stovetop.
“This is something I’m just going to have to get used to.
” Needing to keep busy, I rinsed the few dishes that had collected in the sink before stashing them away in the dishwasher.
“You think you’ll be able to work shit out with Gage?”
“I hope so.” I propped against the counter and let my hands dangle over the sink. “Maybe I made a huge mistake by leaving.” If he knew I was about to spend the holiday with not only Simone but Ian too, he’d blow a gasket. But after the dirt Katherine had spilled, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“I don’t think you made a mistake at all. He kept a huge part of his life from you while demanding you give him everything. That’s pretty fucked up.”
“That’s Gage,” I said, a note of tender sadness strangling my words.
Simone sighed. “I’m not blind. You’ll go back, probably before the turkey’s done. But Sometimes, a girl’s gotta breathe. Especially with you being pregnant. A little time to deal and process won’t hurt anyone.”
She made perfect sense. It was a talent of hers. But usually, her logic defied my heart’s, because my bleeding organ beat for Gage.
Except it skipped a treacherous beat upon the knock that sounded. Simone rushed through her moderate-sized apartment and flung the door open. I remained motionless in the background, unnoticed as Ian drew her into his arms and planted one on her lips.
I wouldn’t lie, least of all to myself. Seeing him with someone else wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but I couldn’t stop the curve of my lips at witnessing how happy he seemed.
Or how head-over-heels Simone was for the man who’d at one time held my heart in his gentle hands. I’d returned his kindness and devotion by ripping him to shreds. But she’d weaved him back together, and I refused to let my drama get in the way of that, or ruin this holiday.
Simone broke away as Ian shut the door, but his hazel eyes widened upon the sight of me standing just outside the kitchen, wringing my hands because I didn’t know what else to do with them.
“Hi…” His surprise registered in his deep voice.
“Hi,” I said, my cheeks heating from the sudden awkwardness in the room. I looked to Simone for help.
“Kayla’s spending Thanksgiving with us,” she rushed to explain.
Ian took a step toward me. “Are you okay? Where’s Gage?”
“He and I are…taking a break.”
The astonishment that washed his face attested to the momentous nature of my news, and it told me how bad of an idea being the third wheel was. I moved to grab my coat. “I shouldn’t be here. This is just…”
Way beyond awkward.
I had one arm in my jacket sleeve before Ian placed his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t go. You’re always welcome.” He glanced at Simone, including her in the conversation. “Right, babe?”
So they were at the “babe” stage. I wondered how much time they’d spent together. Had Simone visited him at the treatment center, wherever that had been? Just how long had he been back?
And that’s when I realized there were things I’d probably never know, and for a good reason too, because our histories were cocooned in hurt, and crisscrossed in a web of wrong. We only had two options at this point; remain hung up on the past, or salvage what little friendship we had left.
The third choice—walk away for good—was unfathomable.
Simone gave me a reassuring smile, so I assumed she voted for the second option. “Of course she’s welcome. We’re all adults, but more importantly, we’re friends.”
My husband excluded, for obvious reasons.
Ian removed his jacket, and we settled in to watch parts of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade while the food cooked and boiled.
When it came time to carve the turkey, Ian took on that task as I set the table for three.
With each minute that passed, the nagging awkwardness subsided.
We settled around a table crammed full of turkey and all the trimmings.
I loaded up my plate, overjoyed that my morning sickness was mostly a thing of the past since I’d entered the second trimester.
“How about we say what we’re thankful for?” Simone arched a brow at me. “Would you like to go first?”
I set down my eggnog with a slight gulp. “Um, sure. I’m grateful for…”
The baby.
But thinking about my unborn child brought tears to my eyes, and I didn’t know if Ian was aware of my pregnancy. The last thing I wanted was to rub it in his face.
“I’m grateful for your unconditional friendship.” My gaze swerved between the two of them. “Both of you. You’ve been there for me, each in different ways, for such a long time. So that’s what I’m thankful for.”
Simone took Ian’s hand. “You’re next.”
“I’m gonna have to cheat and mention two things. I’m grateful to be alive.” He brought her hand to his lips. “And I’m grateful for you.”
Silence fell over the table, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It just was.
Simone cleared her throat. “I’m grateful for the three kids whose cancer went into remission this week. By the grace of God, they got to go home and spend the holiday with their families.”
I raised my glass. “That takes the cake, Simone. It deserves a toast.” Our glasses clinked together—three glasses representing three lives that had come together through trial and tribulation, yet here we were, sitting around the same table and thankful to do so.
But God, how I missed Gage just then. And Eve. Frigid air whistled through the holes in my heart where they should have been. With a little distance, I saw things more clearly, and Gage’s past with Katherine didn’t lance my heart as badly as it had yesterday. But not being with him did.
A bang on the door went off like an omen as if the universe heard my pain and wanted to reply. Even so, dread formed in my gut. I didn’t know how I knew, but that angry fist pounding on Simone’s door belonged to Gage.
She scooted back, the legs of her chair scraping loudly across her floor. “I’ll deal with it, Kayla.”
Except that I beat her to the door. She tried stopping me from opening it, but nothing and no one would keep me from seeing him. The instant I laid eyes on his disheveled appearance—his uncombed hair and the redness that rimmed his eyes—I fought against myself to fall at his feet.
He barreled into Simone’s apartment, letting the door slam behind him. Everyone seemed to hold their breath for a few heavy seconds as Gage and Ian exchanged a look. But it wasn’t a look I could put a name to.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“It’s Thanksgiving, and my wife isn’t at home. What do you think I’m doing here?”
Simone tried wedging between us—always the protector—but Ian gently held her back. He pulled her to his side, one hand curving around her shoulder, and Gage didn’t miss the obvious bond they’d come to know in such a short time.
“I think you should leave,” she said, though her tone was far from harsh. She might not like Gage, but she managed to rein in her temper for my sake because that’s the type of friend she was—the type of friend who invited the ex-girlfriend of her new boyfriend to Thanksgiving.