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“Here.” Hope turns, picking up both trays of cookies that she took from me minutes ago. “Set these on the dessert table out back. And while you’re out there, will you please ask Henry if he’s ready to fire up the grill? Why my mom put him in charge of the hamburgers and hotdogs, I’ll never know. I may have taught him a few things over the years, but he still burns the burgers every single time.”
“Maybe it’s because she wants you to enjoy the party instead of worrying about hosting it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now get.” She shoos me out of the kitchen.
Chuckling, I turn and head toward the back of the house before very carefully maneuvering my way through the back door.
If I dropped all these cookies Hope baked, after insisting that I should get to help, she’d serve my head on a platter in their place.
The backyard is littered with dozens of people. Most from our Senior class, along with some of Hope’s family. Even her dad showed up, which given what I’ve witnessed in the past, might not be a good thing.
You’d never guess by looking at either of them, but her parents have quite the tumultuous relationship. I found that out the hard way last year when I happened to be here one evening when her dad showed up.
The argument that ensued was pretty bad. For a second I thought Hope was going to have to call the cops to get her dad to leave. I could tell how embarrassed she was by the whole incident, no matter how much I tried to reassure her that it was no big deal. I mean, I get it. Dysfunctional parents is something I’m no stranger to. Hell, my mom moved halfway across the country to get away from my dad.
In fact, their relationship is so bad that I’ve only seen my dad a total of a few days over the last two years. Which is one of the reasons why I decided to spend the summer in California when he asked. Considering that I start college here in the fall, I figured it might be our last chance to spend some real time together. Despite how much he and my mom dislike one another, I care about both of my parents.
“Don’t tell me she roped you into helping.” Wendy slides up to the long, fold out table next to me as I deposit the cookies on top.
“Quite the opposite, actually.” I turn toward Hope’s mom. “I didn’t really give her a choice in the matter.”
“I try to throw my daughter and her close friends a graduation party and my daughter ends up doing most of the work.”
“That’s Hope.” I snort. “Especially when food is involved.”
“I swear, sometimes she forgets that she learned how to cook from me.” She shakes her head. “Then again, I never took it that seriously.”
“She means business when it comes to food.” I’ve never met someone as passionate about something as Hope is about cooking. And she’s incredible in the kitchen. I’ve never had something she’s made and not found it utterly delicious. Doesn’t matter what it is. Appetizers. Entrees. Desserts. She’s a master of food.
“Considering she’s moving all the way to New York in the fall, I’d say so.” Her words catch me so off guard that I don’t have time to smooth my expression before she catches the confusion on my face. “She didn’t tell you?”
“I thought she was going to the local culinary institute.” Or at least that was the plan the last time we spoke about it.
“She was. But then she got a call two days ago that a spot opened up at the Culinary Institute of America.”
“She got in?”
“She got in.” She smiles. “But please don’t tell her I told you. I’m sure she was just waiting for the right time to announce it and here I go blabbing the news before she has a chance to.”
“I won’t say anything,” I promise, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Here I was preparing to be away from Hope for two months. Now we’re suddenly staring down the barrel of much longer than that.
We had it all planned. Hope was going to attend the Culinary School here in Lakend and I’d be at the University of Missouri in Colombia, which is only about twenty minutes from here. I was planning to live at home with my mom and commute to save some money.
Now I have no idea what’s going to happen.
I always knew Hope’s dream was to attend Culinary School in New York, but then she got waitlisted. While I was disappointed for her, a part of me was relieved because it meant I wouldn’t have to say goodbye.
“So, uh, Hope wanted me to see if Henry was ready to fire up the grill.”
“Yeah, I’ll have him get it ready if you want to go ahead and bring the meat out.”
“Yep. Can do.” I nod before spinning on my heel and quickly heading back toward the house.
I lock eyes with Lucy as I pass her talking to a group of girls from school. She barely glances at me before she plasters a smile on her face and continues her conversation.
This is exactly why I didn’t want to come today. Had it been anyone else hosting this party, I wouldn’t have. And while I know Lucy and I are going to have to find common ground, especially since we run in the same group of friends, she’s clearly not ready for that. And I can respect that. I know I hurt her. Even though that was never my intention.
