Chapter 58
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Hayden
My mother’s surprised to see me, obviously, but it only takes one look at my face to convince her not to pry too much.
“Is everybody alright?” she asks from the kitchen doorway. It looks as if she’d been cleaning up from her dinner when she heard me come in.
“Just a spat,” I lie. It doesn’t feel like a spat. It feels like the end of the world. “No accidents or emergencies. But she asked for some space.”
Colleen’s mouth tightens, and I brace myself for an anti-Gamble rant I really don’t want to hear. Then she inhales slowly through her nose and blows out the breath. “Are you hungry? There’s some leftover ham and fried potatoes.”
“I’m not hungry, but thank you.”
“You’re not hungry? Or you already ate? Nothing feels better on an empty stomach. How about a grilled cheese sandwich and some tomato soup?”
I wasn’t lying about not having an appetite, but I recognize that my mom needs to do something to help me feel better, and I appreciate that she didn’t give me an I told you so. “Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”
“Never.”
After checking that Penny’s bed is still in its spot—it is, and she’s already curled up in it—I sit at the table and watch my mom go through the familiar actions of making my favorite comfort food.
Maybe it’s the nostalgia that loosens the knot of emotion in my throat. I hadn’t wanted to start down this path so soon—honestly, I don’t want to at all—but it looks like we’ve arrived. “We might have rushed getting married.”
To her credit, she only nods slowly and stirs a can of milk into the tomato soup while processing that. I can see that she wants to be careful with her words—always a good idea because she doesn’t want to have said something awful if Cara and I reconcile after sleeping on it.
“One spat doesn’t mean it’s over,” she finally says. “Learning how to fight and then move past it together is one of the most important skills to develop in a marriage. Usually you learn how to do that during the dating and engagement process, but you kind of skipped that part.”
I don’t really have a great reason to have skipped it, other than repeating the story that we fell so hard and fast, we couldn’t wait. But I can’t bring myself to say it out loud right now. Not with the memory of Cara’s tear-stained cheeks and accusing eyes so sharp and fresh in my mind.
I just couldn’t tell her all of it—I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the rest of the story.
“Have you told your brother you’re here?”
“No.” It was only for Penny’s sake that I came here instead of making the drive back to Boston. I’d rather not have this conversation and I don’t want to explain it all to Aaron, either. “I might tomorrow if…I might talk to him tomorrow.”
She sets the grilled cheese in front of me, followed by a bowl of creamy tomato soup. “Everything might look different in the morning. And I know how you are, so I’m not going to make you talk about it. But you know I’m here if you do want to talk.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She leaves the kitchen and a minute later, I hear the TV come on. Even though I’m still not hungry, I eat the grilled cheese because I can rarely resist it. And I manage about half the soup before I add the dishes to the dishwasher and hit the button to turn it on.
When I walk into the living room for my bag, Colleen pauses the TV and smiles at me. “Did you have enough?”
“I did. Thank you. If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to go upstairs. I’m not very good company tonight.”
“You never have to be good company for me, but I also won’t be offended if you want to be alone.”
“Thanks. Goodnight, Mom.” I look at Penny, who’s glaring at me from her bed. “Come on, Penny Lou.”
She ignores me until I start up the stairs and she realizes she’s going to be left alone with Colleen. I hear her nails as she scrambles to catch up, and I slow so she doesn’t have to rush on the stairs.
Her annoyance isn’t soothed any by being back in our own guest suite. Sometimes I wish she could talk to me and then other times—like now—I think it’s probably a good thing she can’t actually say what she’s trying to communicate with her eyes and body language.
Even though it’s a little early for bed, I rummage through the clothes I’ve always kept there until I find a worn, comfy pair of sleep pants to change into. That’s Penny’s signal to use her stairs to go to bed, and she does. But she’s not happy about it.
I kill the light and slide into the bed.
It has the same mattress I use in Boston, and there’s absolutely no logical reason why I should be missing the old one in Gin’s former bedroom right now.
And yet I am. Even if I’m stuck across the hall, I’d rather be sleeping under the same roof as Cara tonight.
Usually, Penny would cuddle up against my side, but tonight she’s sitting on what would be Cara’s side of the bed, staring at me. It’s ridiculous because the three of us haven’t shared a bed since Gin moved out of the Gamble house.
“I know,” I tell her. “But she doesn’t want to sleep with us anymore.”
My dog tries to stare me down.
“Yes, it’s my fault. But you and I were going to be on our own again eventually, anyway.” I don’t tell her I know how she feels—that I miss Cara, too. “Penelope Louise, it’s time to sleep. Lay down.”
Penny gives me a derisive snort. Then she turns in a few circles and, after heaving a very dramatic sigh, settles down—still on the other side of the bed—with her back to me.
I’ve known the whole time we would end up here. It was the plan all along. But I hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.
“I don’t know how to make it better,” I whisper to her, and then I close my eyes and hope sleep will come soon and dull the pain.
It doesn’t.