Page 18 of Stuffing My Obsession
My throat tightens at the obvious shadow of Tonia’s name left unsaid. I squeeze my hands together in my lap.
Danny shifts, clearly impatient. “Guess I’m next. I’m thankful for…opportunities.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Not everyone gets second chances in life. I plan to make the most of mine.”
Mom gives him a polite smile, though her lips press a little too tightly. Dad sips his coffee.
Then all eyes turn to Myles.
He sits forward, forearms braced on his knees, expression unreadable. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady, deep. “I’m thankful for Paris.”
My breath catches.
Mom gasps softly, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh, that’s beautiful.”
Dad grins, nodding his approval. “Good man.”
Danny snorts under his breath, but no one pays him any mind.
I force myself to swallow, my throat dry as sand. My hands twist in my lap. Everyone’s waiting. It’s my turn.
“I, um…” My voice trembles at first, but I push through. “I’m thankful for being home. For family. And for the people in my life who…who make me feel seen.”
The words wobble, but they’re true. I risk a glance at Myles, and his gaze is still there, steady, burning. I have to look away before I combust.
Danny mutters something under his breath, but Mom shushes him with a look.
Dad clears his throat and pushes himself up from his chair. “Well, before I turn in, I should take care of that loose board on the porch and check the gutters. Myles, Danny, you both mind giving me a hand?”
Myles leans back, casual, but his gaze drags over me one last time before he answers. “Sure.”
That look lingers, heavy enough to leave my insides fluttering, before he follows Dad and Danny out the door. The night air slips in for a second before the door clicks shut.
Mom waits until they’re gone before scooting closer on the couch. Her smile is knowing, mischievous. “So…” She draws the word out like she’s savoring it. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone home.”
I blink, caught off guard. “I wasn’t—he’s not—”
“Not what?” Mom tilts her head, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Because the way he looks at you? That man is smitten.”
My cheeks burn hotter. I grab a cushion and hug it to my chest like a shield. “Mom…”
“What?” She grins, leaning in. “You can tell me. How long have you two been—”
“Mom,” I cut in, desperate. “Please.”
Her grin softens, but she pats my knee. “Fine, fine. I just… I’m glad. You deserve someone steady. Someone who makes you feel safe.”
The words hit too close, and my chest aches. Safe. If only she knew.
Before I can scramble for a response, Myles’s phone buzzes against the side table. I wouldn’t normally glance at it, but the screen lights up and my stomach twists.
His lock screen isn’t a photo of mountains or some army insignia. It’s the image of a single red rose.
The same roses that have been showing up on my doorstep for weeks.
My breath catches in my throat. My hand moves before I can stop it, swiping the screen. No code. Just his home screen staring back at me.
And it’s worse.
It’s me. A picture of me, walking down the street, bags in hand, hair messy, caught off guard. Not a selfie. Not anything I ever posed for.
