Page 52 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
“Perfect. What better snack than someone’s grandma’s pumpkin pie?” She grabs the bag she brought with her and brings it to the kitchen. “Warm spices, flaky crust, and me dragging your innermost feelings into the open. Pure autumn magic.”
“I’m okay,” I assure her, rolling my eyes when I turn my back to her as I find a mixing bowl. “Honestly.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that, but I don’t buy it.” She pulls a kitchen scale out of the bag and I hand her the bowl. “Nobody is okay after the shit you’ve been through over the past few months.”
I take a deep breath. “Maybe I’ve gotten too used to it.” I shrug as she weighs out flour. “My sister always got my toys, and my parents suddenly decided she deserved them more than I did. Looking back, this situation is not new, but, you know, hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that.”
“Oh, wow, that’s self-deprecating,” she points out, then puts some flour on her palm and blows it toward me. “Away with those thoughts.” I cough and take a step away from the flour cloud. “It shouldn’t feel normal. You should be mad.”
“I’m past being angry,” I say with a sigh that makes specks of flour she blew toward me fly right back at her. “I don’t have any strength for that left in me. I’m so done. Truly, irrevocably done. They’ve made it more than clear that they don’t give a shit about me, and I’m going to return that energy from now on.”
“Now that’s the spirit!” She cuts some cold butter into the flour, then suddenly perks up. “No, wait, don’t return anything. Pretend they don’t exist.”
“I meant what I said at Jay’s parents’ house. They’re dead to me,” I assure her.
“Good. Hey, by the way, Amanda sold that monstrous table yesterday. The customer said he saw it on the website you set up for her. She was so surprised!”
“I love that she’s into all this paranormal, Wicca stuff, but doesn’t believe in the power of the internet,” I snicker. She slides the bowl toward me, and I turn around to wash my hands to knead the dough, when I see the bowl move suspiciously. “Oh, no, Chaos.”
I catch the bowl at the last second and shake my head disapprovingly. “No more treats as daily night offering.”
“Pfft, as if she cares,” Lauren jokes. She is slowly coming around to the idea of a ghost cat, but I think she’s still trying to come up with “natural” explanations for everything that’s happening. Now she’s keeping them to herself, though.
“Now, to come back to your concern: All of this is terrifying,” I tell her, as I bury my hand in the butter-flour mixture and start squishing it. “It means I don’t have anyone in this world—apart from friends and friendships can fall apart.”
“One thing, Nic.” She steps in front of me and grabs my elbow to make me stop kneading. “You’re not getting rid of me.” She flashes a smile that might be friendly or might precede a murder—hard to say, really. “I’ll be the … I don’t know, the pumpkin spice to your pie. Or coffee. The milk in your cappuccino. The—”
“I get it,” I chuckle and flick a bit of dough her way. “And same. You’re basically the sister I always wanted, you know.”
“Likewise. I always wanted an annoying little sister.” She grins and walks back to the other side of the counter, where a pie dish has suddenly appeared.
“What in the Mary Poppin’s bag? What else do you have in there?” I ask, surprised, laughing when she starts pulling everything for the pumpkin filling out of it.
“Just about everything we need and a spoonful of sugar.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“Emotional stability?”
“I meant more along the lines of food. Pretty sure the delivery guy of Wayward Hollow already hates me. Maybe I should bake him some cookies.”
“Make your snickerdoodles. They will make any man fall at your feet. Hell,Iwas ready to marry you the first time you gave them to me.”
“Is that so?” she asks, gazing out of my kitchen window contemplatively. “You know what? I just might. After Thanksgiving though. They’re Christmas cookies. I can’t bake them before Thanksgiving. Pretty sure there’s some kind of divine rule that would make me burst into flames.”
“That makes sense.” I nod with a grin and set down the bowl, giving the dough a few more kneads on the marble countertop. “Here you go.”
“Speaking of—” She greases the pie dish, then puts the dough in there and pushes it toward the edges until she’s happy with how it’s turning out. “Be a darling and preheat the oven?” I turn around and do exactly that as she continues. “We’re spending Thanksgiving together, right?”
“Erm … I haven’t thought about it yet, but I kind of assumed we would?” I shoot her a look over my shoulder as I set the temperature. “Why? Do you have other plans?”
“Only with me, myself, and I. What do you think about making a Friendsgiving out of it? If you’re fine hosting because my place is still a mess, and I don’t see that clearing up anytime soon,” she says as she puts parchment paper and pie weights onto the dough.
“Sure. As long as nobody is allergic to cats.”
“We could invite Kieran. He mentioned he’s not too close to his family either. No cat allergy.”
“What about Caleb?” From the corner of my eye, I see her blush and avert her gaze. “If we invite Kieran, we have to ask at least—don’t you think?”
“I mean, ifyousay so. Sure.” She tries to shrug nonchalantly, but the smile on her face gives her away. “What about Henry? Is he spending Thanksgiving with his family?”
