Page 8 of A Very Grumpy Thanksgiving

“Olive is the oldest?”

“Yeah, then Maple, then me, and then Ginger.”

“You guys are close.”

“Yeah, they’re all my best friends. Do you have siblings?”

I nod, and she takes a big bite of her sandwich.

“Two younger sisters and a younger brother.”

“Do they all look up to you?” she asks.

“I doubt it.”

I take a bite of food, and she frowns.

“You’re not close to them?”

“Not especially. I talk to them like once a month, see them on holidays, but that’s it. They all are married with kids and are busy.”

She nods, and we eat in silence for a minute.

“Do you want that?” she asks quietly, and I swallow.

“Want what?”

“A wife and kids. A real one,” she stresses, and I smile slightly.

“Sure. With the right person.”

Our eyes lock, and we stare at each other for a beat.

“What about you?” I ask her, and she looks away, gathering up the wrapper from her sandwich and the napkins.

“Yeah, I want that,” she whispers.

I can hear the longing in her voice, and I vow right then and there to give her anything that she needs. I’ll be whatever she needs, whatever she wants. I just need her to be mine.

“Let’s go get your supplies,” I say, my voice rough, and she nods.

I follow her to my truck, and a plan starts to form in my mind for making Saffron more than just my fake girlfriend.

FIVE

Saffron

For the firsttime in forever, I’m actually excited to go home for the day, and I know that it’s all because Nolan will be there waiting for me. He got so much done yesterday, and surprisingly, shopping for supplies with him was fun. The total was a lot less than I was expecting, and I know that I have him to thank for that, too.

We left the lumberyard yesterday with a whole truckload of wood, and I was able to order a bunch of the bathroom fixtures, too. They won’t be in for a few weeks, but Nolan says that’s okay since it will take him time to fix the floor and paint.

It’s so nice to see my vision of the house finally starting to come to life. It’s also a huge relief to not have to worry about that project anymore. I trust Nolan, and I know that my house is in good hands with him.

“I got pizza!” I announce as I step inside my place.

Nolan sticks his head out of the bathroom, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his gloved hand.

“Pepperoni?” he asks, and I smile.

---