Page 21

Dick is fast asleep at my feet. I'd say poor little guy. However considering what a daredevil he is at the moment, I'm happy whenever he's powered out and napping, because it means he can’t cause damage.

"Bold of you to assume I won't bake other great stuff."

"Touché," I say, but keep staring at his kitchen door. Would he notice if I sneaked back there and straight-up stole the thing? I would leave money, of course. But I need to have them. All these other people in Wayward Hollow honestly don’t deserve them.

"Tell you what, I'll make another tray for Thanksgiving tomorrow," Caleb declares as a compromise. But my face falls.

"Which means we'll have to pick between stuffing our tummies at dinner versus the second-best thing I ever had in my mouth?" Lauren asks exactly what I'm thinking, sounding as shocked as I am.

"Never happy, the lot of you."

"Oh, I'm extremely happy." Lauren leans over the counter and points to her lips for a kiss. To my surprise, Caleb obliges.

He's gotten so much softer over the last year.

Seriously, he went from fighting with Lauren over allowing pumpkin spice syrup in his café to building a whole goddamn syrup bar for her in a corner within months. Now she can pick between ten flavors. Of course, all seasonal. Currently, it's stocked with the basics like vanilla and hazelnut, but also pumpkin spice, gingerbread, and, funnily enough, cinnamon roll.

And now he’s even doing public displays of affection? Who is this guy and what did he do to the grump who introduced himself as the café owner to me last year?

"You two are so disgustingly cute."

"Hey, party people, what's up?" Nic slides into the seat on Lauren's other side. Before she can even order, Caleb turns around to make her a cappuccino.

"We're trying to convince Caleb to make a tray of these every day for the rest of his life," Lauren says with a full mouth.

"Huh?" Before Nic can even formulate a question about it, Caleb slides a plate her way.

"Seriously, where do you get these from?" I get up and try to check behind the counter. "Do you have a secret stash there? A magic cabinet?”

“Please." He shoots me a dry look. "You're here, Lauren's here, obviously Nic wouldn't be far. The three of you are almost attached at the hip at this point. And Kylie will probably join you sooner or later."

My breath hitches. Are we? Most days it feels like Nic and Lauren are the main group and I’m… there on occasion.

But if Caleb says it, he must have a point. He’s observant, and his café is the center of everything happening in Wayward Hollow. Yet as much as I trust his observation and people skills, I have doubts.

"Here you go." He sets a cappuccino down in front of Nic.

"Thank you, Caleb." Nic gets up, adds two pumps of gingerbread syrup, sits back down and takes a sip. "Ah. I needed that."

"You seem exhausted," Lauren notes worriedly, staring at the dark rings under her eyes.

I lean forward to catch a proper look at Nic. "Oh, God. Are your cats keeping you awake again?"

The last time I saw her this pale and with eye bags this dark, she'd just gotten Pumpkin, her orange cat. She's been a vocal little menace from the moment Nic and Lauren found her; still so small Nic had to wake up every few hours to feed her. Which can absolutely lead to a ghost-like level of exhaustion. Hell, when Dick inevitably eats something he shouldn’t and gets the runs, I have to do the same thing to go outside with him. It’s the worst.

"No, it's not Chaos," she mumbles through a yawn she promptly hides behind her hand. "At least I don’t think so. No, it's..." She waves her hand through the air. "Probably the moon or something. I had a shitty night. But don’t worry, I'll go to bed early today so we can start our Thanksgiving cooking bright and early tomorrow.”

Lauren shakes her head and gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Girl, you sleep in. I have your key. Kieran and I will be there bright and early. And if you're still sleeping, you're still sleeping. We’ll have a coffee ready for you when you get up. Don't stress about it."

The two of them fall into a conversation. I find myself tuning out as they discuss the finalities of what else one of us needs to buy for tomorrow.

Lauren and I are driving to the supermarket later, and I get to wheel, carry, and shove around whatever we need. Mentally, I'm completely out of the planning part of Thanksgiving, though. I see my role as muscle and entertainment only.

Cooking and I never became friends. Sure, I can follow a recipe if it's written down step by step and dumbed down to a level where a second grader would be able to do it. I'm counting on the two of them to tell me what to do. It’s better for everyone invited to Thanksgiving dinner that way.

I watch the two of them in the mirror Caleb mounted behind his counter, and let my thoughts drift off. Honestly, I'm itching with the urge to talk to the two of them about Brooke.

But how would I even begin the conversation?