Page 108 of Caught Up In You

“Do we want the bagged Caesar or the bagged Mediterranean?” Libby asks. Just because we’re home cooking doesn’t mean we chop like peasants, as she said the first time she came home with a bagged salad.

“Mediterranean,” Hazel says. She pulls a bubbling baked ziti with perfectly browned cheese from the oven, the kitchen filling with the delicious smell of tomatoes and mozzarella and oregano. “It goes with the theme.”

“These dinners are themed now?” I ask as I act as Eden’s personal sheepdog, steering her away from electrical cords and the drawer with the kitchen knives. She’s been a tiny terror eversince she started crawling. I can’t believe she turns one next month.

“I got cannoli for dessert. I picked it up from Don Diono’s,” Libby says.

And there it is, another memory that feels like a paper cut on my heart: Owen calling up Don Diono’s and paying the tab for the worst date of my life.

But I take a deep breath, and the hurt ebbs, the wound scabbing over again.

“Hear that, baby girl? It’s Italian night.” I scoop Eden up and blow raspberries on her belly, eliciting the most delicious baby giggles. It shocks me that at this time last year, this whole-ass person didn’t exist.

Now I can’t imagine my life without her.

“Okay, Auntie Wy, time to settle down for dinner.” Hazel pulls Eden out of my arms and puts her in her high chair, sprinkling ziti across the tray along with some lettuce from the salad. Within seconds, Eden’s smeared in marina as she smashes ziti into her little face.

I’m two bites into the most delicious baked ziti I’ve ever eaten in my life when I realize that Hazel hasn’t reached for her fork yet. “What’s up, Haze?” I ask.

She takes a deep breath. “I have an announcement.”

I still.

“I heard back from my advisor today with some great news,” she says, a wide smile on her face. “Eden got a spot in the childcare program they run out of the medical school. It’s this incredible developmentally focused daycare that starts early childhood education when they’re the age she is now.”

“Well, that’s great, honey!” Libby says, holding up a forkful of ziti like a toast.

“Wait, where is this program?” I ask.

“It’s right on campus,” she says, then pauses. “At Cornell.”

Libby’s fork freezes. She’s caught up with me.

“I’m going back to campus for the spring semester. I’m subletting a studio from my old roommate who’s doing an internship in San Francisco. It’s pretty cheap, and my financial aid should cover it. I’ll leave after New Year’s. That’ll get me the last credits I need for my degree. I’ll graduate on time, and in May you can come out and celebrate with us!”

I blink, taking it all in. Hazel—and Eden—are leaving.

Across the table, Libby’s mouth is hanging open.

“You guys, this is great news! I’m going to graduate on time. I had a baby, and I’m going to graduateon time,” she says.

“That’s amazing,” I whisper, because it is. My baby sister is a wonder, and she’s worked her ass off for this.

But still…she’s leaving.

“Then what?” Libby asks. “What will you do after you graduate?”

Hazel shrugs. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe I’ll come back here and work for the parks department for a little while. But I have some time to figure that out. Right now my priority is getting my diploma, and with Eden in this incredible program—which isfree, by the way—I’m going to be able to do that.”

My eyes are welling up, and I tell myself I’m just proud of my sister for the way she set her mind to a seemingly impossible task and slayed it. Just like she always does.

Libby and I wrap her in hugs. We toast her with our sodas and laugh when Eden holds up a noodle to mimic us. We enjoy our dinner and talk about Hazel’s plans. I offer to drive boxes up to Ithaca in my truck and help her move into the apartment.

I pretend I’m not hurting.

But inside I feel like I’m being torn apart.

CHAPTER 45

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