Page 76 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

“I’m sorry there’s no milk,” Sandy said.

“It’s fine. Really.”

And then they were quiet. Mandy needed to call the venue and make sure they were able to get that runner she asked for, and there was still the issue with the flowers. They promised her ranunculus, and now for some reason, they had no idea what she was talking about.

“Everything okay?” Sandy asked. Had she said something, and Mandy missed it?

“I’m sorry?”

“I know what’s going on here isn’t easy, but you’ve seemed unsettled, even before all of this. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Sandy laid a hand on top of Mandy’s. “You have always been the strong one. Isa is so lucky to have you in her life.”

Mandy wanted to laugh at that. Her, strong?

Sandy’s gaze dipped to the table, and it was almost as though Mandy could see the weight of everything she was carrying press her deeper into her chair. “You’ve always done what was best. And I suppose I had always hoped things would’ve worked out—” Sandy was cut off by a knock at the door.

Mandy got up to answer it. It seemed a little early for a delivery, but flowers had been coming at semi-regular intervals since Abuela came home from the hospital. When Mandy opened the door, she had not expected to find who she did.

“I didn’t know if you needed two percent or whole, so I just got both.” Edmund stood on the threshold with arms full of grocery bags, and a few more at his feet. When she had spoken to him earlier, she had never in a million years thought he could be writing down the list she rambled off on the other end of the phone. Mandy would ramble on about a lot of things to him, and most of the time she knew he wasn’t really listening because he’d ask her questions later about the very thing she’d already told him about. Tears threatened the backs of her eyes. She hadn’t even insinuated needing him, but he just knew she needed help. Mandy wanted to tackle him right then and there and kiss him all over. Sometimes he could just be the sweetest.

“Come in. Come in.” Mandy stepped aside instead to give Edmund ample space. He kissed her forehead as he passed—the citrusy scent of his new cologne sending tingles to her toes—and Mandy scooped up the remaining bags and closed the door.

“Right in here. That was so kind of you,” Sandy was saying.

Edmund set all the bags on the floor in the kitchen. “I had no idea there were so many laundry soap choices. I hope I got the right one.” It was true that Edmund sent his clothes out to be laundered, so Mandy couldn’t help smiling at the image of him standing in that aisle—likely reading labels and looking for the most expensive one, because to Edmund, that meant it had to be the best, and he knew only the best would be good enough for Isa and her family.

Mandy never fully explained her relationship with Isa to Edmund, all the ups and downs of it. But when she made it clear that Isa was her person, Edmund didn’t argue.

Sandy tightened her robe around her. “Whatever you got is perfect.”

“I take it this goes in there?” Edmund held a carton of orange juice and motioned toward the fridge. He was going to help put groceries away too? Could she love this man any more in this moment? He didn’t wait for a response; he just took the carton and a bag full of refrigerables that way.

“We’ve got this,” Mandy told Sandy.

Sandy rested a hand on Mandy’s arm and quietly said, “We just want you to be happy.” She glanced at Edmund, then back, giving Mandy a tight-lipped smile before heading toward her room.

“Babe?” Edmund said, holding a bag of flour in one hand and at least four different bags of dried beans, peppers, and what waslikely parsley—he’d probably thought it was cilantro—in the other. Edmund had done nice things for Mandy, but this had to be the nicest.

Mandy directed him to where things went while she emptied bags of her own. When she had finished, she came up behind Edmund and wrapped her arms around him.

“How bad did I mess up?” he asked as he spun around and held her back.

Those tears were there threatening again. “You did great.”

That year Thanksgiving dinner wasn’tset on a white tablecloth with her mother’s fine china or freshly polished silver in Mom’s formal dining room. It wasn’t food prepared by some chef somewhere and brought into the house that morning, where a team of people set everything out before scurrying off to their next job, hoping to make it home for dinner themselves. Mandy wasn’t wearing an uncomfortable dress and heels, and she didn’t have to stand in front of the fireplace for their yearly family picture.

No. Thanksgiving was on picnic tables of varying sizes all spread out in the Jiménezes’ backyard with mismatched tablecloths and paper plates. And even though Mom wore pressed slacks and a floral blouse, Mandy was in jeans and flats while cousins raced around pelting each other with roasted pumpkin seeds, and oranges from the tree. In other words, it was wonderful.

The weather was as perfect as anyone could ask for, with fluffy white clouds that sailed by overhead like giant white puffsof cotton candy against an azure backdrop. When Abuela was brought outside, the entire family cheered. She had been feeling much better the last couple of days, and Mandy hoped that meant the worst was behind them. Isa, however, wasn’t convinced. She’d been called in to the hospital early that morning, so she didn’t see Abuela’s rosy cheeks or smiling face. But she would. Just as soon as Isa got there. It had been difficult for her to get any time off, seeing as she was in the middle of her residency. And if she had stayed on the East Coast for it, who knew if she would’ve been able to come home at all.

“Things happen for a reason,” was what Mom told Mandy. Like that was the best explanation for why, after spending years in Boston, Isa decided to come home. But Mandy knew better. It wasn’t fate, or some kind of magic that brought Isa back. This was simply where she was always meant to be. It had always been a part of her plan—the one she had written out and kept tucked inside the music box Abuela gave her for her eighth birthday. Deep down Mandy admitted it was why she’d chosen to go to college close by. Mandy had spread her wings and then had come home. A part of her had always expected Isa to find her way home to Mandy too.

“We should probably leave soon.” Edmund squeezed Mandy’s knee. It wouldn’t be fair to say she was surprised he decided to stay with her instead of flying home to be with his family, but Mandywassurprised in the best way possible. He had also dressed down for the occasion, matching Mandy in jeans and a complementary colored polo shirt. It was what Abuela requested. “Nothing fussy, just familia,” was what she had said.

But Mandy wasn’t ready to leave her family for his. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them. It was just different. Their idea ofThanksgiving was much more in line with Mom’s—and when Edmund insisted on helping Mandy pick out the right dress for the occasion, she did not expect to come home with a $3,200 kelly-green, tea-length skirt made by a designer she still couldn’t remember. (Sophie had squealed when Mandy had sent her a photo.) That was the way Edmund usually showed his love, but this, being here, was all she really needed. She placed her hand over his, and he smiled back at her and then glanced at his watch.

“I know,” Mandy responded instead of asking for just a little more time. “I’ll be right back.” Mandy got up to greet her best friend, who had just emerged from the house. “Everything okay?” she asked Isa as Mandy wrapped her in a hug.

“Yeah, it was fine. They didn’t really evenneedme but whatever. I’m starving.”

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