Chapter 5

In the beginning of my relationship with Michael, he’d remained encouraging. Giving me the usual expected platitudes of “You’ll get there,” “The parts will come,” and stuff like that. Once he got busy with his own case, though, all that encouragement had dried up.

I hadn’t made it home last Thanksgiving, though. I hadn’t been able to make the time. And so I had spent Thanksgiving alone, roasting a small chicken myself and serving it with instant mashed potatoes and jarred gravy. I bought a store-made pumpkin pie and sipped pumpkin spice lattes.

This year, of course, my meal would be about a thousand times better, and the house would be full of family and laughter, as well as love, so yeah, when I got to think about it, this year was better for some things.

Once home, my mother put me to work helping her bake pies. We played music and sang, so I didn’t mind. For the moment, talk of moving, Christmas, and ex-boyfriends went away.