Page 131 of The Thought of You

“Your personal life is all our business, just as the girls’ lives are too. That’s how it is in this family. You know that.” She scoffs and gobbles another bite of pie, calmer than the still air before a storm.

“Unbelievable,” I grumble.

“As I was saying… She’s serious about you, and not just for the fun.” She rounds the counter and stands in front of me. “You realize that she didn’t have to come in the other night and meet us all, right? She knew we were having a family dinner, and she joined us, anyway. Whether she’s old-fashioned or a more modern woman, in any case, meeting family is a big deal. And she strode in with shoulders high and shot the shit with us the entire night. People don’t go to such lengths for a meaningless fling.”

“I want to say you’re right.”

“Then just say it.” She shrugs again, but this time, she has a twinkle in her eye. “Son, actions speak much louder than words. Like this pie, for instance.”

“Pie?”

She points to my slice of sweet potato pie, which I’ve abandoned. “Your aunt Ruth goes on about me not liking her recipes, and she never believes me when I tell her I do. She’s always thought the worst of me.”

I arch a brow. This is the first I’m hearing of my father’s sister not liking Mom. She definitely isn’t obvious about it, but it could be a Southern thing. Everyone’s polite, even in their rudeness.

“But I make her recipes for pie, casseroles, and even stuffing for Thanksgiving, and I always credit her when I’m complimented. Actions mean everything.” She pats my cheek, and already, I feel better.

Not that I’m out of the woods just yet.

“You’ve shown her you love her, haven’t you?” Mom asks, but the serene clarity in her eyes indicates she knows as much.

I confirm, anyway. “What do I do now?” I whisper, fucking desperate for her ideas.

“For starters, you have to take back the ultimatum. Nothing good ever comes of one.”

“I can do that. I can take it back.” I nod, but the uneasy feeling from this morning comes rushing back.

Will she forgive me for being such an ass about this whole thing?

chapter

forty-two

ADDIE

I pace my living room, wearing a hole in the heels of my fuzzy socks.

I should grade papers, adjust my lesson plans to account for my abrupt absence from yesterday, or stock my fridge. I should be productive, but instead, I’m thinking about Owen. I’m always thinking about him.

And I like it. I don’t hate that he’s a distraction from my responsibilities and goals. I don’t hate that he makes me laugh and feel light.

In truth, it’s one of the many reasons I like being with him—I love who I am with him.

I’ve spent the last few hours stewing over soup. Every spoonful I slurped reminded me that Dorothy made it.

Owen called his mom and asked her for a favor, which as I’ve learned, is hard for him to do. He’s almost as terrible at asking for help as I am, but he did it for me.

How many times has he shown me how much I mean to him? And what have I done in return? I kicked him out of my house.

I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted to beg him to stay. I wanted to promise I’ll come clean. That I’ll plaster it on posters down at the Tap and hand out “Addie loves Owen” buttons at the door.

But I froze when panic seized my body.

If I let myself truly be with him, I’m putting more than my job at risk. I’m putting my heart on a chopping block and daring him to carve it in half for the whole town to witness. These people relentlessly dissect and gossip about the new specials at Gordon’s Pizzeria—they’d have a field day with Rain’s daughter following so closely in her mother’s footsteps.

How can I take that kind of risk?

I mull over Maren’s advice, swirling it all around in my head like a blender until the perfect concoction forms.

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