My phone buzzes, distracting me from staring at those lips, that jawline, that face.
Molly: Sure thing. Waffles?
I grin at her predictability and nod like she can see me.
Savvyanna: Just say when.
There’s another message on my phone that I must have missed.
Athena: I’m so sorry for your loss, girl. I know she wasn’t in your life, but it’s still a loss.
Athena: I can’t imagine what that feels like. Finding out you’re adopted, then finding out your birth mom is dead—and so recently too. Ugh.
Athena: I wish I had something profound to say, but all I got is: it’s shit.
Savannah: I’m still pissed. I didn’t get to tell my parents I looked her up, either. They invited some people over for TG dinner. Probably to avoid having to talk to me. It’s like this giant elephant is in the room, taking up all my oxygen.
I rub my chest, suddenly aware of how true that is. Despite not being ready to see my parents, I know we need to talk. They should know what I found out about my birth mom, and I have to find a way to process this anger fizzing and hissing under my skin.
Mom’s excited to see her old friend, but she hasn’t talked to me yet and I expected that we would. We’ve kept it light so far, talking about school, my new job, and what I plan to do while I’m in town visiting.
And yeah, some of that is my fault, but jeez. Maybe they’re as scared to talk to me as I am them, and having the Ashes over is a way to help…somehow? Or at least distract.
Who knows? All I know is I have this aching pit in my stomach, and I feel icky in my own skin.
I cast a glance at Dad whose sad eyes are on me while he chats with Clint. He offers me a small smile that I try to return. He knows I’m hurting just as much as he is, too. I’ve always been his little girl.
I just don’t feel like it anymore.
Justin
Savannah has been quiet all afternoon. She chatted with her little sister during our Game of Life. She helped me set the table ahead of the mouthwatering dinner our moms are serving up onto platters right now. But her eyes are melancholic, and she’s emitting such overwhelming distress from her every freakin’ pore that I can almost taste it in the air.
Is it me? Is she this upset because we’re here? Or is it seeing her parents again after learning about her history?
Part of me wishes Mom hadn’t told me about what Savannah’s going through right now. But the rest of me is kind of grateful, even if I do feel like I have some sort of unfair advantage over her somehow.
The drone of pleasant conversation buzzes around the table as we eat, but Savannah only speaks when someone asks her a direct question. I want to reach out to her, to hold her hand, or pat her thigh.
I’d try to stroke her foot with mine, but she’s sitting next to her dad, and I really don’t want Kev to think I’m coming onto him, so instead, I sit through dinner aching to help.
We dive straight into dessert, none of us wanting to wait even ten minutes to let our food settle before Mom’s pie is brought to the table. I resist licking the dish—only just. If I was in my own home, I wouldn’t give it a second thought. But here, well, I’m making an effort. Though the idea that it might make Savannah laugh, even for a second, has me wondering if I should do it anyway.
Mom wags her finger at me. “Don’t. You. Dare. Justin Phillip Ashe. Don’t you dare.”
Savannah’s eyes cut to me, fork paused en route to her mouth with her last bite of pie. In fact, everyone’s staring at me.
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My lips twitch as Mom’s face breaks into a smile.
“I’m sure.” She swipes the near-empty pie dish from in front of me and places it on the counter behind her. “Where are your manners?”
I shrug. “I didn’t do anything, Mom. You can’t scold me for thinking about doing something.”
She turns to Abby. “Justin sometimes forgets his manners when it comes to my mud pie. He has a penchant for licking the dish.”
Sophia gasps a “no.” Savannah’s dad snorts.
“I don’t blame him.” Savannah speaks around her mouthful of pie. “I probably would too if I lived in close proximity to this pie. It’s amazing, Mrs. Ashe.”
