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Chapter thirty-nine

Get The Label-Maker!

Frankie

“Congratulationsonbeingafree woman, Mom,” I cheered, tossing confetti over her head as she stepped out of the hospital for the first time since she’d been admitted.

The sound of a bottle popping startled me, and I spun around to find Hayden looking at me sheepishly, a bottle of champagne in her hands.

“I thought you weren’t the kind of person to keep emergency champagne on hand?” I poked, teasing her just a little.

I knew she’d been preparing for the day of Mom’s official release from the hospital because I’d been so obscenely excited about it.

“Special occasion,” she said by way of explanation, throwing me a wink. “Now, I know the doc said no alcohol, so this is alcohol-free, but we won’t let that sad little fact ruin a fantastic bottle of bubbly.”

She handed Mom a plastic cup filled with strawberry-flavored bubbly before handing Dad his.

“And we can always pretend,” Dad said, nodding his thanks.

“Cheers,” Hayden agreed, raising her cup.

We lifted ours as well, echoing her sentiments.

“No more surprises, right?” I asked, turning my attention to Mom.

“I can’t promise anything,” she deadpanned, her face so much brighter, so full of color.

“ButIcan promise that you’ll never strain yourself ever again,” Dad chimed in, taking her empty cup from her hands and grabbing her luggage. He loaded her bags into the trunk of the car, dusting his hands off proudly.

Mom threw Hayden and me a knowing look. “He’s going to milk this for the rest of our lives,” she mumbled.

“Say goodbye to doing anything for yourself ever again,” I whispered, and we snickered together.

Hayden frowned. “I think it’s sweet,” she argued.

“You would, you cheesy romantic,” I teased.

She winked at me and I felt Mom’s gaze boring into my face.

I cleared my throat and tore my attention away from the adorable little pout on Hayden’s face. “Will you guys be okay getting home?”

“Of course,” Dad called from inside the car. “We’ll be right as rain.”

“What about the two of you?” Mom asked, and all that her question implied was laid bare in her eyes.

I was about to answer, to tell her we’d probably take a taxi back to our separate homes, when Hayden’s hand slipped into mine.

A gesture that did not go unnoticed by my mother’s keen eyes.

“We’ll take a walk before we head back,” she said. “It’s still early and I want to stretch my legs a little before I go home.”

Mom and Dad left, and I didn’t miss the triumphant grin on Mom’s face as Dad pulled out of the parking lot.

I turned to Hayden, the question loaded and ready, waiting on my tongue. The question of what we were, if there evenwasan us to begin with.

But Hayden took a deep breath and lightly tugged me into a walk beside her.

And I stowed the question away.