Chapter 2
Lauren snapped the lid shut on the glass container of leftover mashed potatoes and nestled it into the one remaining space in her refrigerator, beside the carefully labeled containers that held the rest of her Thanksgiving feast.
“That does it,” she said to Pumpkin, who paced at her feet, eyeing her expectantly. “And here’s your dinner,” Lauren added, placing Pumpkin’s bowl on the floor in its usual spot.
Pumpkin shot forward and attacked the bowl with unrestrained relish.
“You’ve got a small serving of everything I just ate,” Lauren said. “On holidays, that’s how we do things.”
Pumpkin licked the bowl clean, tail thumping against the cabinet as if to say she understood.
“I made a plate to drop off for Darren,” Lauren said. “You’re coming with me. There’s a dog park near his house, and we’ll go for a walk after.”
At the sound of another favorite word, Pumpkin lifted her front paws to Lauren’s knee and yipped in agreement.
“After that big meal, I could use some exercise.” Lauren glanced at the sink. “The turkey roaster is soaking. I’ll tackle the cleanup when we get home.”
Pumpkin dropped her paws to the floor, trotted to the back door, and stood beneath the hook where her leash and Lauren’s dog-walking jacket hung.
Lauren crossed the living room to the antique desk in the corner and pulled out a sheet of the monogrammed stationery her great-aunt had given her when she graduated from college. She smoothed the paper, noticing how substantial it felt in her hand, and penned a quick note:
Sorry you’re under the weather. Being sick on a holiday is no fun. I hope you’re well enough to enjoy this dinner.
Her pen hovered. She thought of the table set in front of the fireplace. Then she added:
XO, Lauren
Back in the kitchen, she tore a piece of tape from the dispenser in the junk drawer and fixed the note to the top of the disposable container.
Inside the plastic rectangle were two plates.
One held turkey and all the trimmings, and the other a generous slice of pecan pie.
A meal she had looked forward to sharing with him.
She slipped into the running shoes that lived by the back door, secured Pumpkin’s leash, and gathered her jacket, purse, and the edible care package. Then she headed out to the car, leaving behind the warmth of the kitchen and its lingering scent of roasted turkey.
Darren’s house was thirty minutes from hers. Traffic was light on this late Thanksgiving afternoon, and she made the drive in twenty-five. The thin sunshine from earlier had vanished, replaced by a bank of heavy clouds that pressed low over the city.
Lauren turned off Ventura Boulevard onto the residential street leading into Darren’s neighborhood. “We may not get our walk after all,” she said, peering at the sky.
Pumpkin shifted in the passenger seat, secured by her doggy seatbelt.
“It looks like it could start pouring any minute,” Lauren continued. “I’m glad Darren has a covered front door so I can leave this out of the weather. I’ll text him to let him know it’s there. If he’s sleeping, I don’t want to wake him.”
She slowed as she approached Darren’s house and noticed an unfamiliar car in his driveway. The taillights glowed red against the darkening afternoon. Lauren continued to the end of the street and made a slow U-turn, pulling into a space along the curb on the opposite side.
“I wonder who’s visiting,” she muttered.
“Maybe he ordered something from DoorDash. I should’ve told him I was bringing dinner.
” She leaned across the console and reached into the back seat for the rectangular food container, the note still firmly taped to the lid.
“I won’t be a second,” she told Pumpkin.
Pumpkin began to growl. The sound deepened as Pumpkin strained against her harness, leaning toward the driver’s side window.
Lauren followed her pup’s gaze.
The taillights went dark. One leg, clad in a high-heeled boot, stepped onto the pavement, followed by the other. A tall woman with long blonde curls emerged from the car, dressed in tight jeans and a stylish leather jacket.
Lauren realized, with sickening certainty, that this was not a delivery driver.
Darren’s front door flew open, light spilling onto the porch. He hurried down the walk and pulled the woman into a long, lingering kiss. Rain began to fall in earnest, slicking the pavement as thunder rumbled in the distance.
Lauren watched, unable to look away, as Darren and the woman turned arm-in-arm and disappeared into the house. The front door closed behind them.
Lauren gripped the steering wheel with both hands and rested her forehead against it. Tears coursed down her cheeks as rain streaked the windshield, blurring the view until everything outside dissolved into shape and shadow.
Pumpkin whimpered and reached out a paw.
Lauren turned toward her. “You knew, didn’t you?” she whispered. “You never liked Darren.”
Pumpkin wagged her tail once, steady and sure.
Lauren slid the food container onto the back seat and unhooked Pumpkin’s seatbelt, lifting her pup into her lap. Pumpkin nuzzled Lauren’s chin and licked away her tears.
Lauren laughed softly and guided her back into the passenger seat. “Thank you, girl,” she said. “That’s exactly what I needed.” She straightened and started the car. The windshield wipers began their steady rhythm, sweeping away rain as Lauren blotted her eyes with a tissue.
“I’m afraid our walk is out of the question,” Lauren said. “Let’s go home. There’s a mountain of dirty dishes waiting for me.”
As she pulled away from the curb, Lauren glanced once more at the house where a man who wasn’t worthy of her was with someone else. Then she turned the car toward home and the quiet kitchen, the waiting table, and whatever came next.