Page 142 of The Thought of You

With a frustrated exhale, I recount the rest of the unpleasant details, bouncing Huck on my knee to distract me from the weight of it all.

At the time, I thought the ultimatum was the best idea, but it was done out of fear. Hardly the right reason.

Defeat settles over me until I can’t take the anticipation anymore, and I set Huck in the playpen I keep here for when I babysit, then wrangle the gift bag from my wily sister. “It’s mine,” I insist.

“I haven’t decided yet if you deserve it!”

I rip the corner of the bag as I tear it from her surprisingly strong grip. “Whether I deserve it or not, it’s mine,” I repeat.

Once it’s in my possession, I freeze before I look inside.

“You know she’s just scared too, right?” Whit offers. “We say and do crazy shit when we’re scared, but it doesn’t make our feelings any less strong or real. Give her time to handle her fears like you’re handling yours.”

I swallow as Huck passes gas, which he follows up with a cry as if it scared him.

“He might need a diaper change.” She gathers him into her arms and disappears to tend to him while I sit with my thoughts—and the gift bag at my feet.

It’s almost as big as an average duffel bag.

I’ve lived a full life with glamor and risks. I’ve driven an IndyCar in a friendly race with other baseball buddies, the speed of which would terrorize many people, but I found it exhilarating.

I’ve been stung by a jellyfish.

And I’ve been hit in the face with a baseball more times than I can remember.

I shouldn’t be afraid of a plain blue plastic bag.

With my heart racing, I pry through the tape and open the top, then dig into it for… fabric. There’s a lot of orange fabric.

A note is pinned to the front in Addie’s perfect scrawl as if she took her time with each letter—she probably always does—and my breezy laugh holds none of the weight or hesitation I felt before.

Immediately, I grab my phone and text Nate.

On second thought, I will be at the party tomorrow night.

chapter

forty-five

ADDIE

“This is corny, isn’t it? I should go home and change. This was the dumbest idea since low-rise jeans.” My palms sweat as I jump in front of Caroline and Maren to stop them from getting any closer to the Tap.

“I could not be happier that high-waisted pants of all kinds are trending.” Caroline tips her red cowgirl hat at me with one hand and uses the other to point to the high-waisted bell bottoms she’s strutting in. She makes a damn good Lainey Wilson.

And I’m so freaking happy she’s finally moved here so we don’t need to resort to missed FaceTime calls and sporadic texts anymore.

I know Austin is more than happy too.

But none of that calms me down right now. I’m too busy freaking out about Owen to enjoy the return of my oldest friend.

I smooth out the round edge of my red costume and continue, “He’s not going to show up, and if he does, he won’t be wearing his costume. He’ll think it’s too embarrassing.”

Maren places both hands on my shoulders and levels me with a sincere stare. “It’s the cutest idea since your homecoming float for Caroline last month. The half-city, half-Sapphire Creek idea was inspired, and this one is brilliant too. He’s going to show up dressed appropriately and tell you how much he loves it.”

I nod along, but I don’t release the breath I’m holding.

“If not, I’ll punch him in the junk, then buy you all the shots your gigantic heart desires,” Maren promises. That’s exactly what it is—it’s not a joke or a clever way to make me laugh, but a promise.

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