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Colton stands to leave, but leans across the desk to place a swift kiss on my cheek. “Well, I’ll call ya later tonight if it ain’t too late when I get in. Otherwise, I’ll see ya here sometime tomorrow.” Colton leaves my office, and I return to my work until the clock strikes five-thirty p.m., then I bolt from my office like I’m on fire. I’m just ready for this day to be done.
Chapter 20
I hurry home and pull on some comfy sweats. I put some chocolate chip cookies in the oven, and make some hot chocolate for Brailee and Braden’s visit. What kind of aunt would I be if I didn’t jack ‘em up on chocolate before I sent them home? A shitty one!
The oven timer and the doorbell ding in sync. I quickly take the cookies from the oven, then rush over to open the front door. I swoop Brailee and Braden both up into my arms, and pepper kisses all over their faces. Braden pushes off of me, telling me my kisses are gross so I set Brailee on the floor and start a tickle war with Braden. Gross kisses? Never! I tickle his ribs until he can’t breathe from laughing and tears are falling from his face. Savannah and Brailee are both laughing as he tries to make his escape. I pull Braden up from the floor and give him a big sloppy kiss on the cheek before saying, “It’s either gross kisses, or tickled ribs. Your choice little man.” I wink before turning towards the kitchen.
“Come on in, y’all. I made some fresh chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate.”
“Carly, they ain’t even had dinner yet!” Savannah yells with a look of shock on her face.
“Oh shut it, Savannah, let ‘em live a little!” I snicker, placing three, giant chocolate chip cookies on each of their plates, next to a big mug of creamy hot chocolate topped with cool whip and chocolate drizzle. Brailee and Braden’s eyes are as big as fifty-cent pieces as they ooh and ahh over their treats.
“Thanks, Auntie Carly, this looks so yummy,” Brailee says as she brings a cookie to her mouth. I set a plate of cookies between Savannah and I, then make us both a cup of hot chocolate too.
“So what are your plans for Thanksgiving?” Savannah asks, taking a bite from a cookie.
“I have no plans.”
“You do now. You’re helpin’ me cook this year. We haven’t spent Thanksgiving together in years, and we need to begin our traditions. And I ain’t takin’ no for an answer,” She replies with that damn mom voice. I laugh at her. She wants me to help her cook. That’s hilarious. I don’t cook. Well, cookies maybe. I burn boiling water. I do take out and TV dinners. She should know this.
“What’s so funny, Carly?”
“You thinkin’ I can cook. I hope you have Food City on speed dial, because if I’m in the kitchen, dinner will be an absolute disaster.”
“Surely you can follow a recipe. Heavens Carly, have some faith in yourself.”
“Savannah, I’ll spend Thanksgiving with y’all, as long as you promise to leave no heavy responsibilities on me. I promise you, I cannot cook.”
“Deal.” She says, reaching across the counter, shaking my hand, like we made a pact.
“Oh, Momma is coming home for Thanksgiving too. Ain’t that great? She’s so excited to see you.” Savannah adds quickly.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My mouth drops, and I have to refrain from spewing a long line of cuss words in the presence of my niece and nephew. I just smile, and bottle up the anxiety of seeing my momma after almost eight years. Savannah doesn’t even pick up on my distress as she jumps right into planning the Thanksgiving menu. She pulls her tablet from her purse, opens the Pinterest app, and begins to pin recipes for appetizers, side dishes and desserts. After we have planned the menu, Savannah and the kids say their goodbyes and head home.
The silence of the house is deafening. I hate being here all alone. My mind wanders, allowing stress to creep its way in. I clean up the kitchen and start a load of laundry to distract myself from the loneliness. My cell phone dings, so I check my messages.
Colton: Just came up to my office for a break. Miner’s still down. Thinkin’ of you.
Damn, things just keep getting better.
I shoot him a quick reply: Miss ya ;)
Then back to cleaning. Thirty minutes later, the downstairs is clean, so I grab a snack and take a break. Just as I prop my feet up, my cell phone dings again. It’s a message from a number that I don’t recognize.
Are ya home? Thought I’d stop by?
Who the hell? DING. Another message.
This is Luke, just in case you haven’t added my number to your contacts.
Hey, come on over.
I reply, then add Luke’s number to my contact list. Ten minutes later the doorbell rings and my heart leaps to my chest. I take a deep breath, then open the door. Luke is standing with his back to the door, with a black leather jacket sprawled tightly across his shoulders, loose, ripped Levi Red Tabs, and a backwards ball hat. He turns around slowly, and when our eyes meet, his panty melting smile creeps across his cheeks. My knees shake, threatening to defy my weight.
Luke walks inside, carrying a pizza from Gianni’s.
