Page 7 of Riding Home

“Too small,” I muttered.

He looked back at me.“So, as much as I’d love to be your fake date, I’ve got dinner plans with my family.”

I felt relieved yet also a bit bummed out.“Right.Of course.”

“But maybe afterward, we can catch up,” he suggested.

I hesitated.“We’ll see.”

“Better get those bags inside before your mom sends out a search party,” he teased.

I sighed, reaching into the trunk to grab my suitcase.Clark stepped forward, taking it from me with ease.

“I’ve got it,” he said.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

As we reached the front steps, he handed me the suitcase.

“Good luck with dinner,” he muttered.

“Yeah.You too.”

Our eyes met momentarily, an unspoken understanding passing between us.Then he turned and jogged back to his own family on the other side.

I watched as his mom embraced him, the older man clapping him on the back.A pang of something—jealousy?longing?—stirred in my chest.

“Aurora, dear, come inside.”Mom’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I plastered on a smile and stepped into the warmth of the house.The aroma of apple pie and cinnamon was reminiscent of the warm hug that I didn’t get from my mom.

“There you are,” Mom said, taking my coat.“Isn’t this exciting?Both our families together on Thanksgiving.”

“Wait, both families?”I echoed.

She nodded enthusiastically.“Yes!When I realized Clark’s mother was Mary, who lives right across the street, I called.We decided to have dinner all together.Isn’t that wonderful?”

My stomach dropped.“Wonderful.”

“And don’t worry about Mark.I’m sure he’ll be delighted to meet everyone,” she added cheerfully.

This just keeps getting better.

I forced a smile.“Great, Mom.”

“Now, why don’t you freshen up?Dinner will be ready shortly.”

I headed upstairs to my old bedroom, closing the door behind me with a sigh.Leaning against it, I tried to make sense of the whirlwind of events.

Clark the biker was my neighbor.Our moms were now coordinating a joint Thanksgiving dinner.My ex was still coming.And I had a fake boyfriend who was only partially on board.

I flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.What am I going to do?

Chapter 4

Lying on my childhood bed, I stared at the familiar cracks in the ceiling.The room remained unchanged since I left for Nashville—same pale walls, shelves of trophies and high school photos.Time had stood still here, trapping me in a past self.

Being accomplished hardly meant anything when everyone’s first question was, “Are you seeing anyone?”

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