“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.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Cara
Sleep-deprived and heartbroken, I get through the next day on caffeine, belly rubs, and sloppy kisses.
While I haven’t been taking clients on Fridays, I had one appointment on the books I hadn’t rescheduled—they were heading on a long road trip—and I was happy to have a reason to get out of bed.
Thankfully, I’d been too numb to cry, so I was able to smile convincingly enough at the human who walked through the door. But my furry client sensed my sadness and gave me extra love.
And I’ve only looked at the wedding photo I’d downloaded to my phone six times. Maybe seven. I can’t bring myself to delete it, but I had to stop myself from locking my door and crying all over my phone all day.
Now it’s time to close up and go home to the empty house that somehow I ended up the only person living in. Beyond the fact that was the opposite of the plan, it’s depressing as hell.
I drove today because I couldn’t summon the energy to walk, even knowing it would have helped me feel better, so I sit in my car and debate my options.
I can go to the diner and drown my sorrows with ice cream. But Lorene will ask me where Hayden is and I might burst into tears.
I can go home and make a dinner for one.
And that’s how I end up pulling into my mother’s driveway. I’d been angry with her when we parted ways, but it wasn’t the first time I’d gotten upset with her and it won’t be the last. She’s still all I have.
Her little house looks so cheerful, with hanging baskets of flowers and colorful quilts draped over the two wooden rockers on the porch. If nothing else, this disaster got my mother out of that house before it fell down around her.
