That might be worse.
The front door to the cabin opens slowly, and I hear my mother’s voice. “Phoebe, hunny, are you in here?”
“Mom! What are you doing here?”
The sight of my mom makes me want to cry all over again. She makes her way over to the living room and sits next to me on the couch, pulling me into a warm hug. She smells like fresh baked cookies and home.
She rubs circles on my back, much like she used to do when I was a kid and overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions that were just too big for me to carry alone.
Not much has changed, huh?
“Spencer said you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you some soup and figured I’d keep you some company until he got back.”
I hug her tighter before pulling away to get a good look at her. My mom has always been my favorite person in the world. With her kind eyes, warm smile and giant heart. Her red hair is a shade or so darker than mine, though now it’s streaked with fashionable grays and pinned up on the side with a shiny snowflake clasp. Every day during the holidays she wears a different Christmas sweater, today she has on a bright yellow one with Snoopy in a Santa hat next to his tiny tree. The sight alone makes me want to smile and cry at the same time. I’m an emotional casserole today, and I really need to get it together before I spill any beans about what happened between Spencer and I last night. My mom has a knack for pulling out all the nitty gritty details of our life.
“Thanks for the soup, Mama. I appreciate it.” I pick up the big container of soup she left on the coffee table and walk over to the kitchen as she follows behind me.
She opens multiple cabinets until she finds two baby blue bowls and she scoops us each a large helping of the chicken noodle soup. My mouth is already watering. Mom’s chicken noodle soup is the absolute best cure for any type of illness, including self-induced cinnamon smelling ones.
We eat our soup in silence, well mostly silence. It’s the red wedding episode so there’s just a tad bit of death and carnage going on as background noise.
“I can’t believe you still like this show,” Mom chuckles and shudders. “I can’t handle all the gore. It’s too depressing. Especially when they make you fall in love with a character just to let him get his head chopped off a few episodes later! Or worse, stabbed to death in front of their mother!” She shakes her head in indignation. “It’s too sad, Pheebs! Too darn sad!”
I laugh quietly into my soup. My mom has always teased me over my dark choices in television shows. “So, what’s the next task? Wait, did we get eliminated because I wasn’t there?!”
“Well, your father wanted to eliminate you. You know how he lives for the drama,” she tells me, fondness clear in her voice. “Spencer though…he was very adamant about keeping you two in the game. He argued with your dad for about twenty minutes until your dad gave in. He’s a keeper, that one.”
“Ha. Yeah, sure he is,” I mumble under my breath, taking another bite of soup to wash down the lingering hurt feelings I have about Spencer and Piper hanging out together on Facetime earlier.
Mom surprises me by reaching across the small island, and grabbing ahold of my hand. “Honey, you know that boy has been in love with you for years. Why haven’t you given him a chance?” Her voice is kind and so full of love. “Is it because of Kevin?”
A long sigh escapes my lips as I stare down at my reflection in the leftover broth. I don’t want to talk about Spencer or Kevin, but I also really need to talk about it. I’ve never been good at being alone in my own head, letting my thoughts haunt me on repeat until I’m left a blubbering mess. “Kevin and I…we are done. I was going to tell him to go home yesterday morning, before everything happened,” I tell her, unable to meet her eyes. “He knows that our relationship is over. What we had was fun, but it wasn’t a forever kind of thing. Even if at one point I hoped that it was. He’s a good man, but he’s not—”
Mom cuts me off. “He’s not Spencer.”
This time I look up and meet her gaze. Her eyes are kind as always, and there is so much understanding in them reflecting back at me. I force myself to take a deep breath, fighting back the tears that prickle g behind my eyes. “He likes Piper, Mom. He’s always liked her,” I admit, chewing on my bottom lip to keep the tears at bay.
Mom stands up quickly, angrily and comes to my side of the kitchen island. She grabs my face in her warm hands and forces me to look at her. “Phoebe Lynn Andrews, how can you be so blind?” I roll my eyes at her and she glares at me, the way she used to if any of us rolled our eyes at her when we were younger. “Roll those eyes of yours all you want, young lady,” she chastises me. “But you will listen, and you will listen well.” I sit up straighter in my stool. “That boy has only had eyes for you. You and only you. I don’t know what makes you think he likes your sister, but I’m telling you, you’re wrong. I’ve never seen Spencer light up the way he lights up around you. You. Not Piper. YOU.”
“You don’t know the whole story, Mom,” I counter. “There’s a whole past that nobody else knows about.”
“Maybeyoudon’t know the whole story. Maybe you should ask him, and ask Piper. Because I’m telling you, that boy would lasso the moon for you if you let him.” She pulls me in and kisses both of my cheeks, wiping the stray tear away that’s making its traitorous way down my face.
We both break apart when we hear the front door open. I quickly wipe at my face, and turn around to face Spencer.
Urg, he’s gorgeous.
His smile is bright and cheerful as he comes in and wraps Mom into a hug. His eyes meet mine over her shoulder, and I feel the blush that creeps over my cheeks. I tear my eyes away from him and grab the two empty soup bowls and carry them to the sink to wash them while they make small talk.
Mom comes over and kisses my cheek, telling me goodbye, and I watch from the sink as Spencer walks her out. My heart rate kicks into overdrive the minute the door closes behind them. How am I supposed to spend a whole day with him again? I can’t even look at him without thinking of his lips on mine, on my body…
I jump when he opens the door loudly, letting it bang against the wall. He has his hands full with groceries in brown paper bags. I dry my hands quickly on the festive tea towel, and rush over to help him.
“There’s more groceries in the back of the truck, do you mind grabbing those?”
I nod, and head outside to fetch them.
When all the groceries are inside, he starts to remove everything from each bag, placing it on the round dining table. There are about ten cans of different color frosting, multiple bags containing various types of candy, and two large gingerbread house kits.
