Page 70 of Lose You to Find Me

The part that would cut whatever tie he had with me so he wasn’t fantasizing about our future. It kills me to know I’d snipped the invisible string still connecting us, but it had to be done. If he hates me, he can’t hold on to me or whatever version of us he’s building up in his head.

It’s safer this way.

And maybe someday I’ll believe what I told him—that there’s someone else out there for me. Not anybody like him, who could make me happy the way he did. But somebody close.

Hopefully.

The leash tugging me forward and nearly making me slip is what pulls me out of my head and back to reality. “Yeah, he’s training faster than I expected.”

“Which is good because I don’t know how much more pee I’m willing to clean up,” Mom remarks, eyeing the gray ball of energy that’s sniffing a road sign and cocking his leg. “I thought I was done with that when your father and I got you potty-trained.”

At least she hasn’t brought up the shoe the dog chewed up. I’m not even sure when he had time to sneak into her room to get it, but by the time I realized what his sharp little teeth were biting into, it was too late to save it. It was her favorite pair of loafers, and I heard about it for days.

“So…” I pop my lips and bury my free hand in the pocket of my coat. “What are we doing for Thanksgiving? I haven’t talked to Dad in a little while about it because he’s busy closing on that big estate he was working on.”

We’re days away, and I’ve been wondering what our plans are. It’s the first Thanksgiving since they separated. I haven’t wanted to bring it up, but it isn’t like we can avoid the topic forever.

“When isn’t that man busy?” is her first reply, sighing as she stares solely at her four-legged grandchild. She doesn’t admit to sneaking out and seeing him or give away anything about her late-night adventures. And maybe it’s better that I am in the dark. There’s only so much I want to know about my mother. “I don’t know, Raine. Neither one of us can cook, and we’ve never had a big to-do for this holiday anyway.”

She wants to skip it? Disappointment settles into my stomach. “I’m sure we could come up with something if we looked up some recipes online.”

It’s a weak suggestion, one I already know she’ll turn down, so I’m not surprised when she shakes her head. “Honey, let’s be honest. You and I can’t cook to save our lives, and starting to learn by making a turkey probably isn’t the best idea.”

“It’s never too late to learn new things. I still think we should sign up for a class together.”

The look on her face says it all. “Raine, where is that logical side of you? You can’t expect every old dog to learn new tricks. Habits are habits for a reason. It takes years to break them.”

Gripping the end of the leash tighter, I frown at the woman whose phone goes off in her pocket. Why won’t she even give this a shot? Besides basic sandwiches, there’s not much else we can put together ourselves.

When she pulls it out, she stares at whatever name is on the screen and sighs. “I need to take this. I’ll meet you back at the house. Watch your step. Not all the ice has melted yet.”

I watch her walk away, thinking about what she said and hoping she isn’t right. Because if she is, that means it’s going to take a lifetime to get over Caleb.

*

I stare atthe ingredients scattered across Leon’s kitchen counter with a skeptical expression on my face. “You want me to do what?”

My neighbor picks up the recipe and passes it to me. “It’s an easy one. Annemarie was able to teach even me how to make it without screwing up.”

Staring at the paper with pretty handwriting that must be his late wife’s, I lower it and ask, “Why don’t you just make it then?”

He grabs an apron that’s hanging from the side of the refrigerator and passes it to me. “It’s almost Thanksgiving. You can’t show up without something. That was my wife’s one big rule. This pumpkin pie will knock everybody off their feet, so you’re going to make it from scratch.”

I lied and told him my family was doing something so he wouldn’t feel bad for me or offer a pity invite anywhere. But now that means baking a pie from scratch, and all the confidence I had yesterday when talking to Mom about this exact thing has vanished.

While there isn’t a long list of steps on the paper, it still feels intimidating. Setting it down on the counter, I notice the way he stares at the sheet with a small frown on his face, and it makes me wonder if he’s thinking about Annemarie.

“What are you doing for the holiday?”

His frown turns into the ghost of a smile. It makes him look a lot friendlier when that scowl most people are used to isn’t there. “I won’t be alone. I’m going to see my daughter and her family.”

He’s got kids?“You never mentioned a daughter before. How old is she?”

Instead of answering right away, he slowly moves around the kitchen and grabs a few bowls from the cupboard and then a couple of pans hanging above the sink. Once they’re in front of me, he lets out a small sigh. “She’s thirty-six. We don’t talk often. Not nearly as much as I’d like anyway. Her name is Jenna. Annemarie and I adopted her when she was only a toddler. We couldn’t have kids of our own no matter how hard we tried, so we decided to look into the local agencies about fostering and adopting.”

I stare at the man and wonder if this is fate’s way of intervening in my life and telling me how dumb I am. I’d never given Caleb a chance to embrace our potential reality because he’d always been so hell-bent on having his own kids. He’d talk about whose hair and eyes they’d get and which of our mannerisms would rub off on them as they got older.

“Who wouldn’t want a mini Raine?” he asks, hooking an arm around my waist and kissing my cheek. “I know we’ve got time, but I can’t wait for that day.”

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