Page 83 of Going the Distance
It was a bigger affair than Christmas at the Flynn household, because of all the extra family members. Christmas was usually just us, without the grandparents and aunties and uncles and cousins.
Uncle Pete and Aunty Rose were helping June in the kitchen, and Linda was standing off to the side, trying not to get in the way. This was only her second Thanksgiving with us, so I didn’t blame her for still feeling a little out of place. But she caught my eye as I scooted out to the dining room, and I smiled.
She drifted after me while I laid out the cutlery, swirling the wine around in her glass. Lee said something about getting more spoons and left. Linda was about ten years younger than Pete—closer to mine and Lee’s age than to Pete’s. “I heard you and Noah split up.”
“Yeah,” I said. I hadn’t really talked to Linda much. Not one-on-one, anyway. I mean, she was nice, sure, but I didn’t feel comfortable telling her all the ins and outs of the breakup.
“It’s probably for the best,” she told me, sipping her wine. She leaned down to straighten a knife. “When I went to college, I was about four hours away from the college my boyfriend at the time was going to. We’d been together since the tenth grade, but we just couldn’t hack it, not that far apart. I think you did the right thing to call it off. I tried to keep my relationship going. We tried to see each other every weekend, and my grades suffered for it, but after a while there wasn’t any relationship to keep going.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.
Linda shrugged and sipped more wine. “I got over it. I’m just saying, you will, too, even if it seems hard right now.”
“Thanks,” I said sincerely. “I appreciate it.”
“Kind of an asshole move for him to bring his bit on the side home, though,” Linda said, then grinned and winked at me. “But don’t tell June I said that.”
I laughed. “My lips are sealed.”
“What are you two gossiping about?” Pete asked, walking in and going straight to kiss his wife on the cheek.
“Oh, just girl stuff,” Linda said passively.
Pete nodded, like this was a very comprehensive answer. Then he looked at me. “You feeling okay about seeing Noah, kiddo?”
He was always calling us “kiddo.” He even called Noah “kiddo.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess so. I knew I’d have to see him if things didn’t work out right from the start.”
“Elle’s a tough girl,” Lee pitched in, coming back into the room. “She can handle anything.”
Pete laughed, and June yelled from the kitchen to ask where the hell he’d disappeared to—the carrots were burning.
“Better go,” he said, disappearing out of the room before any of us could say another word. Linda wandered out after him, our conversation apparently over.
Lee looked across at me as we set out the last of the cutlery and the basket of warm bread rolls he’d brought back from the kitchen. “Hey,” he said softly, “are you sure you’re okay?”
“Just dandy,” I told him, and, at least for a moment, I was.
• • •
We all heard the car pull up in the drive, and June shot out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on the gravy-spattered apron around her waist before opening the door. Lee and I moved to the doorway of the living room to look out into the hallway.
Matthew came in first, with a bulky purple duffel bag, and Noah came in with his plain gray one after. Followed byher.
The first thing that hit me was how good Noah looked. Like, he looked even more incredible than I was used to. I was used to seeing him with a bit of stubble, but now he had a full beard going on—and it really suited him, made him look older, more mature. He was wearing a white T-shirt under a red-and-gray flannel shirt, the sleeves on it rolled up to his elbows. And the big biker boots he normally wore had been changed for a simple pair of black Converse. His jeans must’ve been new, too—they didn’t even have any holes.
I’d never seen Noah dress so well, or so casually—with the exception of when he’d taken me to the Summer Dance. He usually dressed to intimidate, with the boots, and his T-shirts were mostly worn and old, his shirts usually faded and jeans ripped from wear.
“Hi, sweetie,” June said, kissing Noah on the cheek. She looked totally ecstatic to have him home, and I saw the expectant smile she gave Noah, glancing at Amanda.
“Hi, Mom. This is Amanda,” Noah introduced the girl by his side.
Amanda was a tall, leggy blonde, with an upturned nose and sweeping bangs across her forehead. Her lipstick was bubble-gum pink and her eyeliner immaculately flicked at the corners of her eyes.
And, just like in her photos, she looked like the catalog model for preppy college girls everywhere (at least, I thought so): a white blouse underneath a periwinkle-blue sweater that was probably cashmere, with black skinny jeans and delicate gray ballet pumps. She had this huge square beige purse with black handles and piping—the kind I half expected a small dog to pop its head out of.
She was so beautiful.
