14. Noelle
Chapter fourteen
Noelle
The only thing worse than moving was having to unpack.
On what must have been the sixth box, I paused for a break and made myself a cup of chamomile tea.
Ruby had helped with a few boxes in the beginning, but now she was in full editing mode to finish her portfolio by Thanksgiving.
If Stephanie liked her work, Ruby would be leaving for Spokane after New Year’s.
It was days like this I missed Macy most. Not because two sets of hands were faster than one, but because she always managed to make even the mundane tasks enjoyable.
Folding laundry and washing dishes might be boring, but with a friend, they could be an adventure.
Hot tea in hand, my gaze wandered to the living room window facing the white farmhouse.
The lights were off and all was quiet. According to Ruby, Cal was away in Nashville for back-to-back games, and Khia was staying with one of his siblings.
It had to be hard balancing the single-dad role with being on the road. Is he dating someone?
Doubtful if Ruby had paired us up for the couples shoot. Still, my stomach tumbled at the thought of him with another woman. It shouldn’t matter to me. He could do whatever he wanted. He isn’t mine. But that stubborn flare of jealousy couldn’t be reasoned with.
Not wanting to go down that rabbit hole, I returned to the boxes and started pulling out a few linens I’d collected. Living with Macy meant we had different decorating styles, but we made it work.
A flash of navy and white caught my eye, peeking out from under a crisp sky-blue tablecloth. I tugged at it, and a hockey jersey emerged.
No. It can’t be. I turned it over. Number 22. Satterfield.
Cal’s old Chargers jersey? I’d thrown it away . . . No, Macy had. Or was supposed to. My scheming friend had packed this box. A scrap of notebook paper was safety-pinned to the shoulder.
Noelle,
Forgive me for meddling, but I always thought you’d regret leaving this behind. Don’t be afraid to hope again. To dream. Grace covers a multitude of sins. As long as we’re breathing, forgiveness and reconciliation is always possible.
Love you.
Macy
Tears streaming down my face, I held the fabric to my cheek and sniffed. It smelled like him. The same cologne he’d used since high school when he asked me to help him pick one out.
I couldn’t have explained why, but I slipped the jersey on and grabbed my laptop. The boxes could wait.
Queuing up the game, I watched Cal play for the first time in five years. Maybe this Saturday night wasn’t a total downer.