Page 104 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
“I’m fine,” I mumble against her shoulder, even as fresh tears prick at my eyes. “You didn’t have to come all the way over.”
She pulls back, holding me at arm’s length, her eyes searching my face. “Honey, your eyes are so swollen I’m not sure you can see straight. And fine people don’t usually cry themselves to sleep.” Her voice is gentle, no judgment in it. “Now, you sit down and let me fix you some breakfast. Then we can talk about it, or not talk about it, whatever you need.”
“Okay,” I concede, too tired to argue. I sit at the kitchen table, watching as she returns to her mixing bowl.
“I’m making blueberry pancakes,” she says, sprinkling the berries into the batter. “And there’s bacon keeping warm in the oven. The coffee’s fresh, help yourself.”
I pour myself a cup, wrapping my hands around the warm mug, letting the steam rise to my face. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “For coming over. For breakfast. For everything.”
Charlene glances over her shoulder at me, her smile soft and understanding. “That’s what family does, sweetheart. We showup. Especially when there’s been a whole lot of crying.” She turns back to the stove, pouring batter onto a hot griddle. “And if you feel like adding a few more tears to yesterday’s count, well, my shoulder’s right here. I’ve got plenty of tissues, and nothing important to do today except be here for you.”
“The pancakes smell amazing,” I tell her, taking a sip of my coffee. And then, because it’s Aunt Charlene and I’ve never been able to hide things from her: “And I might take you up on that shoulder offer later.”
She nods, flipping a perfectly golden pancake. “Whenever you’re ready, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”
The first bite of pancake melts in my mouth, sweet and warm with bursts of tangy blueberry. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until food was actually in front of me. My stomach growls appreciatively as I cut another piece, dragging it through the pool of maple syrup on my plate. Aunt Charlene sits across from me at the small kitchen table, her own plate barely touched as she watches me eat with the satisfied expression of someone who shows love through feeding others.
“These are amazing,” I tell her, reaching for a piece of bacon. “I didn’t think I was hungry, but…”
“Crying takes a lot out of you,” she says matter-of-factly. “Your body needs fuel to recover, just like after you’ve been sick.”
I nod, focusing on my food, avoiding the conversation I know is coming. Aunt Charlene doesn’t press. She sips her coffee and eats her own breakfast, letting the silence stretch between us, comfortable and undemanding. That’s always been her way, creating space for me to talk without pushing, letting me come to her in my own time.
Luna appears from wherever she’s been hiding, winding her way around Charlene’s ankles before hopping onto the emptychair between us. She settles herself there like she’s joining the conversation, green eyes blinking lazily in the morning light.
“She’s such a pretty cat,” Charlene says, reaching out to scratch behind Luna’s ears. “Rachel mentioned you found her at Louise’s house?”
“In the garden shed,” I confirm, grateful for the neutral topic. “Adam and I were there, looking over the property, and we heard her inside.”
At the mention of Adam’s name, Charlene’s eyes flick to mine, but she doesn’t pounce. Instead, she just smiles and continues petting Luna. “She certainly landed on her feet finding you.”
I take a deep breath, setting down my fork. “We were talking about Mount Pella yesterday,” I say abruptly. “Adam and me. About what happened there.”
Charlene nods. “I figured it might be something like that.”
“He told me things—” My voice catches, and I reach for my coffee, taking a sip to steady myself. “Things I’ve been wondering about for months. About Millie. About…everything.”
I pause, gathering my thoughts, trying to figure out where to start. Charlene waits, and her calm is a balm to my frayed nerves.
I recount the conversation Adam and I had. From the dinner dates to the cruise to the kiss. As I talk, Charlene’s eyebrows rise slightly, but she doesn’t look shocked or outraged, just thoughtful. At one particularly difficult point, she reaches across the table to take my hand. Her palm is warm against mine, grounding me.
“All of this must have been very painful to hear,” she says quietly.
“It was. It is.” I push my plate away, no longer hungry.
“And hearing the full scope of it made you break down,” Charlene guesses.
“Yes.” I press my fingers to my eyes, remembering the flood of emotions that overtook me. “It was like something inside me just snapped. All these months of wondering what really happened, of not knowing if he had feelings for her, if something happened between them…it all just came pouring out. I couldn’t stop crying.”
Luna jumps from her chair onto my lap, as if sensing my distress. I stroke her fur, finding comfort in her warm weight.
“And now?” Charlene asks gently. “How do you feel today?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice small. “Part of me feels relieved to finally know the truth. The worst part of the last few months has been the wondering. What he did with Millie. How he felt about Millie. But I’m also angry and hurt all over again.”
“It’s a lot to process,” Charlene says, squeezing my hand.
“It is,” I agree, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on me. “And the hardest part is, I still don’t know what to do with it all. I don’t know where to go from here.”
