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What the fuck was wrong with me?
When she turned back to me, she must have seen it in my face. “What’s wrong?” she asked, full lips pouting. “You don’t usually need help to get you in the mood.”
I shook my head, letting out a frustrated sigh as I stood and buttoned my pants back up. “I’m sorry, Jess. I shouldn’t have called you over.”
She stepped forward, putting the back of her hand against my forehead. “Are you okay?”
With a wry chuckle, I pulled her fingers aside. “I’m not sick... But I’m not okay.” I held her hand for a moment, looking at her fingers.
After a moment of watching me, she said softly, “The fun’s over, isn’t it?”
I nodded slowly. It sure was.
14
DELLA
I pulled my Dutch oven out of the stove, feeling heat radiating up from the pot and warming my face. A giddy flutter went through my chest, hoping the perfect sourdough loaf was waiting underneath the lid.
After setting the pot on top of the stove and then shutting the oven door, I carefully lifted the lid.
My jaw dropped open, and I squealed. “It looks like real bread!” I cried, even though no one was around to hear me.
It had taken me a full month to get my sourdough starter going, several failed loaves, and then twelve hours of working with this batch specifically.
And don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t the prettiest loaf in the world. There was a rip down the center like I hadn’t scored the bread deep enough, it wasn’t quite as round as I’d like, and the designs I’d carefully cut into the raw surface had more or less disappeared in the oven. But it looked—and smelled—like bread.
I couldn’t wait to serve it to my parents with potato soup for supper tonight.
Gripping the corners of the brittle parchment paper, I lifted the loaf out of the pot so it could cool on the counter and then tended to my soup in the Crock Pot. I liked to sprinkle a layer of shredded cheese on top about half an hour before serving it for a nice melty effect.
Soon enough, Mom and Dad were at the door. Dad came in first with a stack of flattened boxes under his arm. Mom was behind him, carrying a box full of old newspapers.
“What’s this?” I asked, closing the door behind them.
Dad leaned his boxes up against a wall by the entrance. “Thought you might want to get started packing.” He took the newspapers from Mom and set them by the boxes.
Mom brushed invisible dust off her hands. “You know how awful it is to try and move at the last second? You have so much more stuff than you think you do. This way you can start packing up some of your trinkets and decorations.”
“You’re right,” I said slowly. The thought should have occurred to me sooner, but for some reason, the boxes sitting in the corner had a heavy feeling settling in my chest. It reminded me that I really was leaving Cottonwood Falls, the place I thought I would call home forever.
I tried to remind myself that all hope wasn’t lost—I had a date with Bennett on Friday. But I was leaving town in two months. It would have to be the world’s most whirlwind romance to change my plans.
“Thanks,” I finally said to my parents, putting on a happy smile. “Come check out my sourdough!”
They followed me to the counter, and Dad commented, “It smells incredible in here.”
Mom agreed, and they both fawned over my bread like it was my own baby. “Can’t wait to taste it,” Mom said, brushing thick blond and gray curls behind her ear.
I smiled and replied, “Why don’t we get started? You’re not supposed to cut it while it’s hot, but you know me. I’m impatient.”
Dad smirked, making crinkles form around his eyes. “You’re about as patient as a bulldozer.”
I rolled my eyes at him while Mom chuckled. And it hit me again how grateful I was to have them around. That even though I was nearing forty, they still loved and supported me no matter my flaws.
As we ate the soup, I tried to savor every bite, every moment. And I hoped that this date with Bennett would lead to something big—something that let me stay in Cottonwood Falls.
On Friday after work, I walked to my car in the parking lot on the back side of the building, got in, and pushed the button to turn it on.