Looking down at our interlocked hands, I revel in how my hand fits perfectly in his. I smile at how comfortable this is.
We spend the rest of the drive talking and singing along to our favorite songs on his playlist. Mostly it's me singing along, but he seems happy to contribute occasionally.
I feel lighter knowing his side of what happened. Knowing that he did have feelings for me. Knowing his reasons doesn’t make the pain go away, but it makes it easier for me to processthe past.
Sam drops me off at my parents’ house and then drives over to his dad’s for the rest of the day.
Mom and I go grocery shopping to pick up last-minute ingredients, and then we spend the rest of the day preparing for Thanksgiving dinner, which she's hosted at our house for as long as I can remember. She invites extended family and close friends, and everyone brings their favorite dishes.
She’s always cooked the turkey, ham, and baked pies. Once we were old enough, she recruited Ethan and me to help with the prep work. At this point in my life, I could bake a cherry pie with my eyes closed.
We prepare well into the evening. Mom and I sigh in relief when Dad comes in with pizza he picked up from one of our favorite shops.
We all sit at the small dining table, Mom keeping an eye on the oven. I’m reaching for a slice of pepperoni when she breaks the silence, “So,” she drawls, “Sam dropped you off?”
“Yes,” I respond just as slowly.
“He left to pick you up yesterday. He stayed the night?”
“Yes.” It comes out measured. I know she’s building up to something, and I’m waiting to relax or run.
“Anything going on there we should know about?”
I sigh and sink into my chair. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Before Ethan,” she clears her throat and the corners of her eyes glisten, “you and Sam weren’t talking. Now hespends the nightwith you?”
“Ma, what are you really asking?”
“Are you dating? I’ve seen you holding hands and hugging a lot recently.”
“No, we aren’t dating. We’re friends.” I look over at Dad, who’s just sitting there watching us, a smile on his face. I roll my eyes and focus back on my pizza.
“Hmmm.” She looks at me and raises a brow in challenge
“Ma,” I let the exhaustion from this conversation bleed into my tone, “he lives in Chicago, and I live in Columbia. That isn’t exactly a great way to have a relationship. Speaking of which, I’ve been thinking.” I want to change the subject. “How would you guys feel if I moved back home for a bit—just until I got a new job and an apartment?”
My parents both look at me in surprise. I’ve been thinking about this move for a while. I like Columbia, but even before Ethan died, I’ve felt like something was missing. Now that he’s gone, I want to be closer to my parents.
“You can always move home, baby girl. But why would you need to find a job when you know you can come to work at my firm?” Dad’s voice is strained, and his eyes are pulled together, like I should have known I could work for him.
“Dad, it's not that I don’t want to work for your firm.”
“But?”
“But I don’t want handouts. I never have. That’s why I went to school in Seattle and why I got a job in Columbia. I wanted to make it on my own. I don’t want to be successful because my dad got me a job.”
“Baby girl, you know it wouldn’t be because of me. I know how hard you work. And the truth is, weneed someone now that—” He clears his throat. “I’ve been meaning to list an open position because we could use the help. Really, you would be doing me a favor.”
Need someone. Because Ethan isn’t there.I try to quickly school my features as my stomach drops.
I can’t replace him. I don’t think he meant it that way, but it’s how this all feels. “Well, nothing is set yet. I’ve just been thinking about it. I miss you guys, and it would be nice to be back in Charleston.”
Not understanding the direction of my thoughts, Mom jumps in, “Hypothetically speaking, of course.” I can feel the excitement radiating from her.
“Of course,” I repeat, winking at her and giving Dad a knowing look.
Mom ignores my teasing. “If you were to move home, when do you think that would happen?”
