The kitchen appliances were the first things we replaced, along with a fresh coat of paint throughout the house, but I’d still love to have new flooring and countertops installed. The carpet in the bedrooms has seen better days—the padding underneath might as well be nonexistent—and the kitchen counters are old white tile with white grout. The bones of the house are perfect, but it needs a lot of TLC, and I haven’t had the time or the money to do much of anything. I’m only able to keep up with the yard maintenance thanks to a few teenagers who stop by once a month to earn a little extra cash. If I could, I would love to plant a garden in the backyard, just big enough to grow a few fruits and vegetables. The front of the house would be beautiful with some flowers leading up the front walkway and maybe a few plants hanging around the porch. But none of that has been a priority.
“Do you think Nana made chocolate chip waffles?” Jake asks from the backseat, excitedly kicking his legs.
“I’m sure she did, buddy. She knows they’re your favorite.” Mom has made them almost every Sunday that we’ve spent with them. She tried to switch it up and make chocolate chip muffins once. Let’s just say it didn’t go over well. Jake loves blueberry muffins and chocolate chip waffles, but switch them, and he refuses to eat either. Like Ryan, he loves peanut butter on his waffles instead of syrup. It’s funny how certain habits and preferences are so much like his, and yet he’s never been here for Jake to know that’s where he gets it from.
I barely have time to park on the curb outside of my parents’ place before Jake unbuckles the booster seat’s harness and tries to open the door. I learned the hard way to keep the child lock on the car doors and windows. It only took one instance of him throwing one of his shoes out the window when he was a toddler and trying to open his door himself in a busy parking lot before I had completely parked, for me to switch them on.
He jumps out of the SUV as soon as I open his door and runs toward the front porch. “Pop!” he calls, and Dad looks up from the newspaper in his lap as a smile brightens his face. Sitting on the porch in his old wooden rocking chair while he reads the Hartridge Chronicle has been his routine for as long as I can remember. He swears he doesn’t pay any attention to the town gossip, yet he’ll read our town’s newspaper front to back to make sure he’s not missing anything.
“There’s my favorite little man,” Dad says, setting the paper aside as he stands to greet Jake. “Should we go inside and see what kind of treats Nana made?” Jake runs past him, and Dad laughs as he watches him disappear into the house. He turns to me as I climb the front porch steps. “Hey there, Tessie,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as the comforting scent of his cologne washes over me. “I almost thought we wouldn’t see you today.”
“C’mon now. You know I wouldn’t miss a Sunday with you and Mom. Jake’s been asking for chocolate chip waffles since his feet hit the floor this morning.”
“Your mom’s got a giant stack of ‘em in there.” He nods his head, gesturing toward the house.
We head inside and find Jake seated on his knees on one of the mismatched wooden chairs surrounding the kitchen table. Mom has always enjoyed thrifting and is a firm believer that bringing life back to something old and loved is better than purchasing something brand new. Obviously, this doesn’t apply to everything, but most of the furniture in my childhood home came from second-hand stores or yard sales. The table is stained a honey oak, but the six wooden chairs around it are alldifferent colors and styles. Growing up, the light purple one was always my favorite, while Jake’s has become the sage green one.
“Make sure you eat some fruit with that,” I remind him as he uses his fork to spear a piece of waffle and shove it in his mouth. Mom smiles at me before she adds a few strawberries to his plate. Though it’s only the four of us, she always makes enough to have leftovers for a few days or to throw the extras in the freezer.
My eyes catch on the plate of banana walnut waffles, and I smile. “Thank you for making all of this. You know I’m always happy to bring something,” I say, adding a spoonful of strawberries and a few strips of bacon to my plate to go with the waffles that have been my favorite since I was a kid.
“You being here is more than enough,” Dad chimes in, sending a warm smile my way as he takes one of each kind. “How’s everything going, Tessie? Still enjoying the diner?”
He asks me this almost once a month, as if I’ll suddenly wake up and decide I want to do something else with my life. But truth be told, I don’t know what else I would do. Working at Lori’s was never my dream, but when I lost Ryan and found out I was going to be a mom, she was kind enough to offer me a job and let me work as little or as much as I wanted. At the time, it was the escape I needed. Now I can’t imagine doing anything else. Lori, her husband Hank, and all the diner regulars have become like a second family to me.
“I know it’s not what I ever thought I’d be doing, but I’m happy there. I don’t know what else I’d do that would work with being able to get him”—I tilt my head toward Jake—“to and from school every day or give me time off whenever I need it.” Not that I’ve ever taken much timeoff, but Lori hasn’t minded when I’ve had to take a few days off here and there because of Jake being sick.
“As long as you’re happy, that’s all we care about.” Mom’s smile is tight, the look in her eyes saying everything she’s holding back.
“Can I go play?” Jake’s fork clatters against his plate as he drops it and slides out of his chair, earning a laugh from all of this. He’s been a fast eater since he first discovered food, and even though he’s done for now, he’ll likely be back in twenty minutes asking for more.
I smile and place a hand on his back. “Sure, buddy. Just make sure you wash your hands first, okay?”
He nods and heads for the hallway, pausing as Dad adds, “I think there’s some new toys in your room.”
Jake gasps excitedly before he disappears down the hall, and I turn my attention back to my mom, who is pointedly keeping her eyes off of me and on her plate. Dad reaches over and places his hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze of encouragement.
“What’s wrong?” My brows furrow as I glance between them.
Her hazel eyes, a mirror of my own, lift to mine. “We just worry about you, honey. That’s all.”
“Worry about me? Why?” This is news to me. I can’t recall the last time either of them expressed any kind ofworry.
“It’s been a long time, Tess. We’re worried that you’re so focused on working as much as possible and raising Jake that you’re forgetting to actuallylive.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from my lungs. “Jake is my life, Mom. He’s been all Ihave—”
“Of course he is, honey, and you’re doing an amazing job, but I just wish you would take time for yourself outside of being a mom.”
I wasn’t sure how I was going to find a way to bring up Logan in conversation, but she just gave me the perfect opening.
“Actually, I’m… seeing someone.” I don’t know why I sound hesitant or unsure. Maybe in part because I’m not sure how they’re going to react. Not that I think they would react negatively, but it’s not like I can tell my parents that I had a one night stand with this guy and I’ve been hooked on him since. It sounds so mediocre when phrased like that.
Mom gasps, covering her mouth with her hand as Dad’s brows raise in surprise. “You are?” The question flies from their mouths at the same time, and they look at each other, then back at me.
I can’t help the laugh that bursts free at the shock written on their faces. “I am. It’s new, but I really like him.” My dad looks like he wants to say something overbearing and protective about how whoever I’m dating better be treating me and Jake right, but Mom reaches over and plants her hand on his leg, keeping him silent.
“How did you meet him?” she asks, a soft smile spreading across her lips as she picks up her fork and spears a bite of waffle.
