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8
Lasagna
Haleyand I spend an hour together talking about her current situation.
Single mother. Disowned by her family for getting pregnant in high school. Living off the little help she receives from the state. No job experience.
She's struggling, and we both know it.
Knowing I need to get to Chloe's and start cooking, we make a plan to get together again in a few days.
I don't share my current situation with her or my past. I want to, but my situation is different than hers. She has enough burdens weighing her down. Talking about me seems unimportant.
Eventually, I will tell her. I know that much.
If for no other reason than to prove to her that she, too, can rise above the hand she was dealt.
"There you are," Chloe says as I walk through her front door, her words rushed. "I was getting worried about you. You said you only had to pick up a few things."
I'm carrying two grocery bags. Both are half full.
"Sorry. The store was busy."
Until I have Haley's permission, I'm not going to share her story with anyone. Aside from Adam, I don't plan on mentioning her at all.
"That's unusual," she remarks, taking one of the bags and walking into the kitchen.
Following closely behind her, Chloe unloads the bags while I gather everything else I need to cook dinner. Giving her instructions, Chloe preps the side dishes and bread while I put together the lasagna.
Ever since Liam, it's been the one dish I've refused to cook. That ends today. I'm facing this chapter in my life with renewed hope for a better outcome. Avoiding one of my favorite foods may seem silly to most but not to me. It’s symbolic in a way.
Lasagna to me is what tattoos are to some people. A constant reminder of a special person or an important symbol. It's scarred me, but unlike the permanence of ink on the skin, that scarring can be erased.
Tonight, I'm going to erase a part of my history that haunts me and replace it with new memories.
That's the plan at least.
It all depends on Adam's reaction to my news.
"How long before the guys get here?" I ask as I slide the pan into the oven.
"About an hour. Wyatt has to pick up Lola from his mom's house, and Adam said he had an errand to run."
An errand? He didn't mention that this morning before he left.
"That's perfect. This needs to come out in forty-five minutes, and it can rest while the garlic bread toasts."
Chloe and I clean up the mess we've made while we wait. Not wanting to talk about babies, I keep her attention focused on work.
When we're opening.
What she needs help with.
Either she doesn't realize I'm guiding the conversation in a specific direction or she's happily helping me avoid talking about my current predicament.
"I think Wyatt's here," she says as the timer goes off.
Chloe leaves the room as I pull the lasagna from the oven and replace it with the French loaf she split and covered in a buttery garlic spread.
