Page 73 of The Friendly Fall

“Well, that’s really sweet of you.” Mom beams, hanging the apron up and heading for the door. “I was actually just leaving. I’ve got a date tonight.” She winks at Eliza, and then grabs the door. “You two have a good evening.”

And just like that, I’m left with the woman that I’m trying to avoid.

“Your mom has a … date?” Eliza looks more confused than ever before. “I never—”

“Yeah, she goes on them from time to time,” I say, grabbing a rag and wiping down the counter. “Could you turn the open sign off and lock the door?” I point behind her.

“Yeah, of course,” she says quickly. I watch her, noticing that she seems a little antsy. “Thanks for replacing that door at Granny’s. I never knew how bad it was until we got a new one.” She smiles as she walks toward me, setting the bag on the counter between us. “I got Bill’s Burgers for us. I’m not even sure if you like it, but…”

“Thank you.” I smile, determined not to read into anything. “I do! I grew up eating at Bill’s, so it’s always welcome.”

“Oh, good.” She lets out a cute sigh of relief then slides onto a stool and begins to undo the staples at the top of the bag. “We haven’t really hung out much since Thanksgiving.”

“It’s only been a few days,” I point out as she sets a burger and fries in front of me.

“Well, yeah…” Her voice trails off as she bites down on her lip. “I was just kind of thinking that maybe we should talk about it all…”

My stomach flips as my heart takes off, but I play it cool. “Talk about what?”

“Thanksgiving?” She peers up at me as I pop a fry into my mouth. “I just feel like things have been a little weird between us, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship over what happened.”

Right. Friendship.

“Nothing is ruined,” I say plainly. “We’re still friends.”

“Are you sure?” Something in her voice catches my attention, but I’m not sure why. “You’re not feelinganydifferent?”

Guilt hits me. “I’ve just been busy, and there’s a lot that I need to get done here at the shop. Not to mention, my workbench at the house broke.” It’s all the truth, but I don’t have the nerve to tell her that I also need space from her—to get over her.

Thatreallymight ruin the friendship that she’s desperate to keep reminding me of.

“Yeah … I, um, I probably shouldn’t have come here. I just thought … I don’t know.” She stands to her feet, grabbing up the paper sack with her food in it. “I can let you get back to work.”

“Eliza,” I say as she heads for the door.

She flips the lock and turns back to me smiling. “Maybe when things slow down for you, we can hang out.”

I’m stuck, not sure what to say. “Uh … yeah, I guess.”

And just like that, she’s gone, leaving me even more confused.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Eliza

“He hates me,” I groan, running my fingers through my tangled, damp hair. “He totally hates me. I can’t even blame him for it either. I would hate me, too.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Vanessa says, pulling the throw blanket up to her chin. “I just think that maybe things are more complicated than you thought. But even if he’s a little bitter about something, I don’t think he hates you. I don’t even think Nick is capable of hating someone,” she adds with a laugh.

“I agree with her,” Granny remarks, sitting in her chair with her bright pink throw blanket. We were having a girls’ night, and while Ithought it might just be Vanessa and I, Granny didn’t have anything else to do, and we didn’t mind her hanging out with us. I mean, she might be eighty, but the woman has a spirit younger than I am.

“What’re you so worried about?” Vanessa asks, setting the remote down on the arm of the couch. “He’s probably just busy or something.” However, her explanation is hardly believable. Nick hasneverbeen too busy to hang out with me.

Ugh.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m worried that he no longer wants to be friends with me,” I say, sighing as I stare down at my hot chocolate. A chilly breeze rolls through the living room, and I shiver under my own flannel blanket. It’s a blustery, cold, early December evening, and they’re predicting snow later tonight. It should be cozy and warm, but instead, I feel as cold as the night air outside.

“I don’t know why you keep using that word,” Granny mumbles, barely audible above the crackle of the fireplace.

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