Page 75 of In It to Win It

Lame.

I’ll be trying to stay out of trouble with the Wynn family.

You can do it.

I grin.

Thanks. You’re probably the only one who thinks so.

Say hi to Theo and Lacey. And Everly.

Will do.

I lower my phone and stare across the bedroom, my chest tightening.

I have to get over this stupid crush.

TAYLOR

Shirley’s little cottage-style house is cute and homey. She’s a nice lady. She and Mom have only been friends a few years, though, and I was away at school much of that time, so I don’t know her all that well. It’s good that Mom has a friend she could move in with, I guess, at least until she can find her own place.

The place smells like roasting turkey when Mom opens the door to let me in. “Hi, sweetie!” She greets me with a big hug, then I hand over the bottle of wine and the flowers I brought—my favorite sunflowers mixed with orange and gold chrysanthemums and autumn leaves.

“I’ll put these in water,” she says, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Those are lovely,” Shirley adds. “Welcome, Taylor.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” There’s a brief pregnant silence as we all recognize how weird this Thanksgiving is for us.

It makes me sad that we’ll never have another family Thanksgiving like we used to—with Mom and Dad, Amy and her husband and the kids, and maybe someday the man I’ll bring into the family. Whoever that is will never know what it was like for us to all be together, the fun we all had.

But I can’t dwell on that. This is a time of year to give thanks, and I’ve been really focusing on that, being positive, recognizing all the things I have to be grateful for. I have a great job and a good boss. I may spend a little too much of my own time writing reports and preparing for clients, but I want to do well and I love helping people. I still have my mom and dad and sister. I have great friends, including all those hockey dudes who came and helped me move and then entertained me with their trash talk. I have Byron, and I’m grateful that I have JP to take him in and look after him. I have a home, which is more than some people have.

I lift my chin and accept a glass of wine and take a seat in the living room, ready to get to know Shirley better. Mom fusses around in the kitchen—apparently she’s doing the cooking—but it’s open to the living room, so she can still participate in the conversation. Shirley asks about my job with sincere interest, and then tells me about her work as a physician assistant, so we have our medical professions in common.

We watch some football, which I’m only mildly interested in. “I’d rather watch hockey,” I confess to Mom and Shirley. “But it’s a day off for hockey.”

“How’s Byron doing?” Mom asks. “That hockey player . . . JP? He’s looking after him okay?”

I nod. “He’s doing great. I go over quite a bit, since JP travels.”

“That’s so nice of him to do that,” Shirley comments, eyeing me shrewdly. “He must like you.”

My face heats. “Actually, we don’t really like each other much.” This isn’t a lie; I’m wildly attracted to him, but he annoys me. Well . . . okay, there aresomethings I like about him. “But I’m grateful to him for taking Byron.”

We eat a delicious meal with way too much food, the turkey and dressing and veggies familiar to me because they’re Mom’s recipes.

“I’m not much of a cook,” Shirley offers at one point. “Thankfully your mom’s a great chef.”

Mom smiles at Shirley and they share a look that catches my attention and . . . puzzles me.

“I made dessert, though,” Shirley says with a laugh. “Okay, I bought it, but I’m sure it’s good . . . apple pumpkin pecan pie.”

I laugh. “Wow. It’s got everything in one.”

“That’s right.”

It’s delicious too.

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