“Holy shit. That’s some fucked-up family drama. But I’m glad she admitted that you aren’t the problem.”
“I’ll say. I’m still scared though. What if Sam turns me away?” I say softly.
“He won’t, but if he does, then I’ll be waiting for your call and we will drink our feelings while internet stalking people that we used to know.” Ari chuckles to herself.
“Thanks, Ari. The oven timer is dinging. I gotta take these out before they burn. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“You’re welcome, Ollie. I love you forever.”
“I love you too.”
An hour later, the muffins have cooled, I’ve added the frosting and packaged them up, and I am ready to go. I step off the front porch of my cottage, taking a second to look back at the once-beautiful decorations that Sam placed. The flowers are wilted, and the pumpkins are speckled with black spots as they begin to rot. It’s like a funeral, and I hope it’s not indicative of what is waiting for me at Eerie Ink.
I take a deep breath and walk toward Mage Square. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do if he turns me down. I’m finally ready to open myself up, and it’s really scary to think that I might have missed my chance at a happily ever after. I still can’t believe that I thought the tattoo was the only reason we were so good together, that he was using it to give me what I wanted. It seems silly, the more I overanalyze it. How could he have used it when half the time, it was a myriad of emotions whipping around and random objects that didn’t make a lot of sense even to me? I guess that’s what having your life turned upside down does though—makes you question anything and everything.
I approach Eerie, and the lights appear to have been turned off, the open sign dark against the glass windows. I press my face against the cold door, trying to see if I can spot anything indicating Sam is here, but I don’t. It’s unusual for him to not be working on a Saturday. Maybe he stayed home?
I retrace my steps, walking past my cottage and toward Sam’s. I’m outside of the cemetery when a car slows behind me, and I pick up my pace as my heart races. A few seconds later, a black sedan pulls up next to me, window rolled down, and Sam’s dad, Patrick, says, “Hey, Olive. Headed to Sam’s”?
“Oh, hey. Uh, yeah, I was hoping I could talk to him. Do you know if he’s home?”
“No, he’s at the hospital. Come on, I can give you a ride,” Patrick says. His eyes are so kind, full of compassion. With hownice he’s being, he must not know we broke up.Wait, did he say Sam is in the hospital?My heart clenches as I jog over to Patrick’s car and pull the door open.
“What happened? Is he okay?” I huff out.
“Oh, sorry. He’s fine, Xavier’s baby’s coming.” Sam’s dad smiles, and relief rushes through me.
“That’s great, but I probably shouldn’t be there. Can you just take me home?” I set the muffins on my knees as I reach to buckle my seat belt.
“Nope, I can’t take you home. I know something happened between you two, and if I take you home, you will sit and wonder all day where things stand. I won’t take you to the hospital if you don’t think it’s the right place to talk to my son, but you aren’t going to sit and worry alone either. Mabel is baking today. She will appreciate the company.”
Ugh, this man. This is where Sam learned it from. Patrick showed him how to be kind, how to be sweet. My heart melts, and I can’t stop myself from hoping it works out with Sam even more. I want to be with Sam, but I want to keep his parents, too.
“Okay, I see how this works. Let me practice my groveling on Mabel,” I say, winking at him.
“Now you’re learning. Mabel will be far tougher than Sam. I’ll only be a scream away, young lady,” Patrick coos, winking right back.
We both laugh before falling into a comfortable silence. A few minutes later, we pull into the driveway and I hop out, making my way to the front door. Before I reach the top step, it swings open and there stands Mabel with her hands on her hips, frowning at me.
“Mabel, I’m in love with your son,” I blurt out awkwardly.
“Well, duh. I’m frowning because you waited a whole week to admit it,” she chastises me.
“It’s, um, I’m complicated. But I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, and I just want to talk to him so I can tell him how I feel,” I say, rushing the words out as quickly as possible.
“You will get your chance, I promise. For now, you and I are going to bond over baking and undo all that garbage your mother put in this beautiful head of yours. Come on, my sweet little belle.” I guess Mabel must know more than I thought about my mother.
Several hours later, after baking nearly enough pastries, cookies, and bread to feed Cami and Xavier for a year, as well as deep diving into my childhood, I’m exhausted. Mabel and I discussed just about every topic under the sun, and while I thought it was going to be difficult to open up, she made it feel so easy. Each time I’d hesitate, she would remind me that I didn’t have to tell her anything, and that alone allowed my heart to feel in control.
We talked a lot about my mom, and Mable helped me to see things from my mom’s perspective. It’s not much different than my own and how I was afraid of Sam not wanting me once he learned of my flaws. Did my mom go about things the right way? No, of course not. But Mabel reiterated that most of the time when the people we love hurt us, it is more about what’s going on inside of them than it ever is about us.
I glance at the clock and notice it’s nearing five. I’m not going to stick around and invite myself to stay for dinner. It doesn’t seem like Sam will be stopping by anytime soon. A pang of sympathy for Cami strikes me. She must be having a heck of a time in labor. I hope everything is okay.
“I think I’m going to head out,” I say, grasping Mabel’s hand and giving it a light squeeze.
“Okay, sometimes these things take a while. Sam’s going to stop by and grab this stuff when he leaves the hospital. Did you want me to tell him you were here?” Mabel asks.
“Yes, do you have a pen?” The idea of leaving him a note feels a little lame, but I want him to know I’m ready to talk when he is.
