After experiencing a life-altering tragedy, Emersyn feels as if her world has collapsed. Attempting to accept her new reality, Emersyn wonders how she can possibly keep going when it feels like her life ended months ago. Until she meets Haven, and s...
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I watch my mother bustle about the kitchen and try to keep myself from laughing.
She huffs as she opens the oven, frowning as she pulls out whatever concoction she is attempting to bake.
"Mom," I say, trying to remove humor from my tone. "You know you don't have to bring anything over, right? Nobody is expecting you to cook. And honestly, for everyone's safety, I think you shouldn't."
Mom cuts me a glare as she closes the oven. Wiping her hands on the apron she wears, she murmurs, "It is rude not to bring a dish to a guest's house. It was very kind of Haven's family to invite us over."
"Yeah, and it will be kind of you not to give them food poisoning," I input.
Mom rolls her eyes. "I am following the instructions exactly, Em. It's just a pie!"
I point to the canned cherries still sitting unopened atop the counter. "Yeah, and you already forgot the filling."
"Shit," Mom curses under her breath, hitting herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. "That's why the dough isn't rising!"
I can't withhold my laughter as Mom opens the oven once more, shaking her head out of disappointment.
"Fuck it," she mutters. She takes the pie and tosses it into the trash. "I'll just stop at the grocery store and pick something up on the way. Nobody has to know. It will be our little secret." She winks.
I laugh before returning to the reading assignment I have been trying to complete. Of course I had been given school work over break, and of course I have waited until the last minute to start attempting to get it done.
Mom lingers in my vicinity. I eye her curiously, raising an eyebrow at the way she is wringing her hands nervously. This is almost always the way she begins before revealing upsetting news. I close my textbook and stare her down, awaiting whatever is to come.
"Come on," I probe, sighing as I lean back in my seat. "Spill it."
Mom purses her lips. "What do you mean?"
"Whatever you're about to say that you think is going to bother me," I deadpan. "Let's get it over with."
Mom narrows her eyes as she meets my gaze. "I am not going to upset you," she argues. Pursing her lips once again as her eyes shift from mine, she mumbles, "Well, maybe just a little bit."
I groan. "Mom."
"Okay, okay. I may have invited Beau to join us at the Hartley's. But, I don't–"
I lean forward in my seat, tossing my hands every which way as I exclaim, "Mom! Why would you do that?"
Mom's face flushes as red as the canned cherries atop the counter. "I ran into him when I was checking the mail," she explains, "and we started talking, and . . . Honey, he lives all alone. You remember what he told us about . . . I'd just hate for him to spend the holiday alone as well."
