Rylee
We’ll meet you at your place
“Your aunts are goingto come over for dinner tonight,” I tell Poppy.
“But it’s a school night,” she says matter-of-factly.
“It’s okay. Moms are allowed to have people over on school nights.” I wink at her.
Grabbing our favorite cookies, I load up on the rest of the essentials for the week. Nothing fancy since Poppy is so picky, but by the time we check out and head home, the girls are already there.
“Hey, Pop,” Rylee calls out.
Poppy goes running to her, her bag with the bread bumping against her leg. “Hi, Aunt Rylee.”
She gets scooped up into a big hug as I follow them up the stairs.
“You doing okay?” Georgia asks.
“Not really.”
I haven’t been okay for a while now. Since I walked out on my husband. Since my dad died.
And the worst of it? Seeing Kade come back and look at me like I’m a stranger.
It’s a knife to the heart.
Digging out my keys, I unlock the door to our tiny apartment and shoulder it open. A far cry from the house I shared with Paul, but it’s mine.
Paintings of Poppy’s paper the drab, beige walls. An old couch I picked up on sale takes up most of the living room, and a kitchen table sits right behind it. The kitchen is small with old appliances, with a cut out window that lets me watch Poppy while cooking.
Now, it’s Joey and Poppy emptying the groceries as Rylee pushes me into a chair.
“What’s for dinner?” Joey asks Poppy as the two of them start to unpack the groceries.
“Grilled cheese.”
“Want me to help?” she asks. “I’m really good at grilled cheese.”
“Yes.” Poppy grins at her before giggling. “Mom burns it.”
“Stop calling me out, Poppy!” I say, injecting a lightness to my voice that I don’t feel.
“I’ll pour us some wine,” Rylee says.
“Make mine a big glass,” I say, shaking my head. “I still can’t believe he inherited the ranch.”
After hearing the news from Georgia and Joey, my jaw dropped. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Verne loved Kade. He was always there for him, helping out after school and during the summer while he was home on break from college.
Rylee brings the bottle and four glasses to the table, pouring me a healthy serving. I don’t waste a second and drink down a gulp.
“People seem to like him,” Georgia says.
“He’s a likable guy,” I reply. “We all liked him.”
“Yeah, some of us even loved him,” Rylee whispers.
“Who are you talking about?” Poppy asks, head bobbing above the counter.
