45. Jenna
JENNA
I t was a bad idea to meet Miles at the house.
I was doing okay. I actually felt excited when I got Danny’s call that the repairs were complete.
I wrote him a check and drove it right over to his office.
And now, I am free. The house is in a suitable condition to sell.
Aunt Leona has persuaded me to stay through the new year, but then, I’m out of here.
Nothing is holding me back from starting over, completely fresh.
But the second I saw Miles, I knew I would be forever tethered to him and this place.
I thought telling him I missed him would open the door for an honest conversation, but I didn’t realize until that very moment that he’s hurt too.
Neither of us meant to, but we hurt each other .
After he left, I crawled into my parents’ bed upstairs and slept for hours. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but now I know I am not ready to leave. I’m not ready to walk away from Miles, Cape May, my new friends, or my found-again family.
The days since have passed in a kind of emotional fog.
I’ve kept busy—helping Aunt Leona with dinner plans, taking long walks on the beach, going only to work, and avoiding the places where I might run into Miles.
But even in the quiet, he’s everywhere. I still hear his voice, his excited laugh as he’s catching a wave.
I reach for my phone to call him to tell him small things about the house, or how amazing the stars looked the night before.
Now it’s nearly Thanksgiving, and I still don’t know what to do. But I know I miss Miles. I know my world is empty without him. I think about the night he told me he loves me, under the sky speckled with stars. A love like that doesn’t just vanish. Maybe he is missing me too.
I imagine if my dad could have picked a partner for me, Miles is exactly who he’d choose. He’s kind and grounded, and even though he carries his own pain, he still shows up for me.
So that brings me to one obvious choice.
If I have to start over, why not here?
Why not in Cape May, where I’ve found my family again—and finally started to heal? If I stay, maybe we’ll find our way back to each other.
Aunt Leona convinced me to shut my brain and my phone off for Thanksgiving, so that’s what I’m going to do.
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, a week after seeing Miles, I finish my shift and meet Aunt Leona at the grocery store to finish our shopping.
She has invited a few widows from her church group over for the feast, and of course, Jake will be there too.
There will be six of us in all. It seems like we’re preparing way too much food, but that is the Italian way.
Aunt Leona reminds me so much of my dad that sometimes, I can’t even bear to look at her.
But the one thing that will always fill me with nostalgia is her love of food and the comfort it brings.
Happy? Eat. Sad? Eat. Worst day of your life?
Let me make you your favorite meal. How about a sub tray?
It’s exactly what my dad did for me after a bad day at school, or when I didn’t make the travel soccer team.
I smile at the memory as we walk around the store.
Even though I feel pretty low, I’m going to let Aunt Leona mother me, and I’m going to indulge in this Thanksgiving feast—for memory’s sake.
Thanksgiving morning, I wake up early, bundle up, and take a walk on the windy beach.
Even though it’s freezing, I take off my boots and walk along the water’s edge.
I inhale the scent of the ocean breeze, feel the cold sand between my toes, and breathe.
There isn’t much that the ocean can’t cure, but a pang of sadness hits my chest when I see an early morning surfer catching a big wave.
I think of Miles and his desire to feel invincible, to chase away sadness with each smooth ride in.
I think about bobbing side-by-side on our surfboards at dusk, gazing at the first stars appearing.
Miles made me feel invincible too. If nothing else, I’m thankful for those moments we shared.
It’s been a week since we looked at the house repairs, and Miles hasn’t called me.
I didn’t call him either. He left so quickly, I got the impression that I was the last person he wanted to hear from.
So there we were, at an impasse, neither of us wanting to be the vulnerable one.
Now I can’t help but think it should have been me.
I trudge back up the beach, ready to help Aunt Leona cook, knowing it will keep my mind off Miles.
“Jenna.” Jake’s voice startles me. He steps out of the truck in a wet suit, barefoot and sandy, his surfboard lying in the bed.
“Early morning surf?” I ask, quirking my eyebrow. “It’s cold.”
“This is a winter suit,” Jake says with a smirk.
“Where did you go?” I ask, leaning against his truck.
“The usual…The Cove.” Jake hesitates, squinting at me. “Have you seen Miles lately?”
I shake my head. “No. Was he there?”
Jake frowns, like he wants to say something else, but doesn’t. “No, I was just wondering.” Jake shrugs. “I’m going to ask my mom if she needs anything, go home and shower, and then I’ll be back for appetizers at noon.”
I nod and offer him a tight smile. “Okay, sounds good.”
Aunt Leona planned an early Thanksgiving.
She says senior citizens like to eat early and go to sleep.
I have to admit, they may have the right idea.
Jake and I walk inside together to find Aunt Leona flipping pancakes and listening to Michael Bublé’s “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas. ” Jake and I exchange amused glances.
“I haven’t seen her this excited for the holidays in a long time,” he whispers to me. “It has everything to do with you.”
I shoot him a grateful smile and follow him into the kitchen.
“Ma, do you need anything?” Jake asks, kissing Aunt Leona on the cheek.
“No, but I’ve made pancakes.” Aunt Leona gestures to a foil-covered plate on the table.
“Mom, we’re eating a huge meal in like three hours.” He rolls his eyes.
“Jenna will eat them, won’t you dear?” She gives me a smile that crinkles her eyes.
“I sure will,” I say, sitting at the table and putting a few pancakes on my plate. “Then we’ll get started on the mashed potatoes.”
Aunt Leona glides around the kitchen, Jake excuses himself, and I settle in with my pancakes, soaking it all in.
The Christmas tree twinkles, the music creates a soft ambiance, and Aunt Leona places a mimosa in front of me.
There’s nothing to complain about except…
I miss Miles. I miss him with the same familiar ache I feel when I think of my parents.
The only difference is, he is still here.
What the hell am I waiting for? I scold myself.
“Jenna, are you okay?” Aunt Leona interrupts my thoughts. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Yes,” I say definitively. I carry my plate to the dishwasher. “Just tell me what to do.”
Aunt Leona and I cook up a storm for the next two hours.
The turkey is making the entire condo smell heavenly, and we have enough side dishes to feed a small army.
I absolutely love every second of it. The last few years with my mom, she wasn’t strong enough to cook or eat a big meal.
I sat with her every Thanksgiving and ate rotisserie chicken and Bob Evans mashed potatoes on a snack tray.
This feels special. I must look teary-eyed because Aunt Leona catches me by surprise by wrapping me in a hug.
“I know this isn’t easy for you, but I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers in my ear, stroking my hair.
“Me too.” I pull back and examine her face, brimming with emotion.
“I always wondered about you,” Aunt Leona says, cupping my cheek. She’s looking at me with the same adoration my mom did.
“So did I,” I say softly. “Especially once my mom got sick.” I chew on my lip to fight the rising lump in my throat.
Our tender moment is interrupted by Jake and three ladies in their sixties, talking animatedly as they come through the front door.
I’m not prepared for guests at all, still wearing my yoga pants and hoodie from my morning walk.
We got so busy cooking, I didn’t bother to fix myself up, but it doesn’t matter.
Everyone is excited to meet me, and I have never felt more welcome.
We’re sitting around the table, eating a feast fit for the royal family when there’s a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” I offer. My seat is the closest to the front door. Jake and Aunt Leona exchange a look that I can’t read.
I wipe my mouth on the cloth dinner napkin, push my crazy hair behind my ears, and walk to the door.
The knocking hasn’t stopped; whoever is behind the door really wants to come in.
I swing it open and there he is. Miles. His face is drawn, lines of exhaustion carved deep around his eyes, but he is still irresistibly sexy.
He licks his lips. “Jenna,” he rasps.
“Miles, hi.” I bite back a smile. The truth of the matter is, if he hadn’t shown up, I might have gone to his parents’ house. I have been pushing thoughts of him aside all day, but I can’t escape the longing I feel for him.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he croaks.
“You too.” I tug my hoodie down and fluff my hair. Now I wish I took the time to put makeup on. Silence hangs in the air as we hold each other’s gaze, neither of us sure what to do next. I finally find my voice and clear my throat. “Do you want to come in?”
Miles drops his gaze, then slowly drags it back up, drawing his eyes up the length of my body.
Heat rises up my neck. He looks gorgeous in a nice pair of blue jeans and a button-down with a sport coat over it.
He shakes his head. “No. I came here to tell you, I’m thankful for you.
And I’d like it if you would come somewhere with me. I have something to show you.”