Girl, I’m too old and tired.
With no replies worth following up on, I block the unknown number and flip my phone over, trying to return my focus on the documentary. Though, I’m quickly realizing it was a mistake to put this on when there’s nothing but men inuniform all over the screen. Great, like I need yet another reminder. I let out something close to a growl and flick the TV off.
Padding to the kitchen, I refill my wine glass to the brim, put my earbuds in, and slip into my pajamas before getting in bed. Who needs men, anyway? Not when there’s an endless supply of smutty audiobooks and wine to keep me company.
CHAPTER 5
Dominic
FUCK IT
PRESENT
Harvest Grocers hasn’t changed a bit, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. The place is definitely in need of a face-lift. Cracked tiles, outdated signage, and the same cashier that have been working here since I was a kid.
I push the cart down the canned food aisle, eyes scanning the shelves for something that looks appetizing. With a non-working kitchen, I’m limited to a mini fridge and a microwave.
As I turn the corner, I nearly bump into someone’s cart. “Sorry,” I say automatically, glancing up—and freeze.
“Look who it is,” Leanne Ledger greets me with a warm smile, the kind only a mom could manage. Her cart is full, overflowing with fresh produce and a bouquet of daisies poking out the top. Jack stands beside her with his arm looped around her lower back, like he’s holding her steady.
“Leanne.” I nod at Jack. “Jack, good to see you again.”
Jack nods back and Leanne comes forward, walking carefully, and wraps me in a hug. As she pulls away, she grabs holdof my shoulders. “I probably look breakable right now, just recovering from a minor surgery.”
“You look great, Leanne.” She smiles and blushes, reminding me of a time when my compliments used to emit the same reaction from her daughter.
Her smile evens out, turning down at the corners as she tilts her head slightly. “I heard about your dad. I’m so sorry. He was a good man.”
“Thank you.” My throat begins to tighten. “I appreciate that.”
Will the day ever come that I’m not on the edge of a breakdown any time someone mentions my dad? People say time makes it easier, but if anything, it continues to feel worse and worse.
Leanne steps back, returning to stand at the cart. “Next time you talk to your mom, would you ask her if it’s okay if I reach out? It’s been so long since we last spoke, but we used to be great friends when you guys lived next door.”
“I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”
She hesitates for a moment, exchanging a glance with Jack. “You know, we’re having our usual Sunday dinner tonight. You should come.”
The invitation catches me off guard. “I…I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” My brain immediately flashes to Ellie, and I can’t decide if she’d be more shocked or irritated to see me sitting at her family’s table. Probably both. “I’m sure Jack filled you in on the incident that occurred…” I trail off, embarrassed to even bring it up.
She laughs and waves her hand through the air, her smile widening just slightly. “Oh, don’t worry about Elyse,” she says dismissively. “She’ll be fine. Besides, the guys would love to see you.”
Ellie’s brothers may have been my friends at one point, but they’ll always have their sister’s back. I wouldn’t be surprised ifthey gave me the cold shoulder. Ethan is the only one who’s been mildly welcoming since I moved back.
I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “Are you sure about that?”
“Of course,” she insists, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve always been welcome. That hasn’t changed.”
I’m not so sure Ellie would agree with that sentiment, but Leanne’s expression leaves no room for argument.
“I’ll think about it,” I say finally, which is code for probably not.
“Good,” she says, patting my arm lightly before pushing her cart past me while Jack offers me a parting nod. “Dinner’s at five. You know the address.”
I stand there for a moment, watching her and Jack walk away, the scent of daisies lingering in the air. Part of me feels like a teenager again, awkwardly navigating my way through the Ledger family’s orbit. And part of me wonders if showing up at Sunday dinner isn’t the worst idea after all.
The groceries I bought earlier still sit on the makeshift counter, a slab of plywood perched on cinder blocks. I only put away the two perishable items I bought and the rest I was too lazy to deal with. It’s not as if I have cabinets anyway. Glancing around at my half-gutted kitchen, I take in the disaster that it is. The drywall is exposed in patches, wires snake out from where outlets should be, and a stack of cabinets in parts leans against the far wall.
