Page 2 of Hello Trouble

DELLA

The tow truck’s engine idled until I was safely inside my home. Once the door closed, I heard it rumble as Hayes drove away.

Interesting. For all his rough edges, it was pretty chivalrous to make sure I was inside safely before leaving. Or maybe that was a coincidence. I imagined him getting out his phone and giving Woody’s a one-star review online for serving hot cocoa and giggled to myself.

It was totally something he would do. And probably with that salacious smirk on his face. It was too bad he wasn’t into relationships because damn, did he look good in that dangerous I could rip your heart into a million pieces and have you screaming my name while I did it kind of way.

Shaking my head, I set my drink and snack down on the side table, shucked my gloves and coat, and went to the kitchen to get ready for dinner with my parents tonight.

We ate together and watched The Great British Bake Off every Wednesday. But today, I had news for them, and I knew they wouldn’t like it.

But it was time to tell them what was going on with me—the truth and not the happy facade I’d been putting on for longer than I cared to admit.

With the sense of dread growing in the pit of my stomach, I got out the lasagna ingredients and got to cooking.

Experimenting in the kitchen was one of my favorite things to do, and I couldn’t wait to hear what my parents thought of this new recipe, made by rolling the noodles up with ricotta cheese and spinach then covering it with a creamy alfredo sauce mixed with shredded chicken.

A little sprinkle of mozzarella on top would make it look pretty coming out of the oven later.

I just wished I could figure out how to make a sourdough loaf to go with it, but so far, all my attempts turned out like frisbees.

A knock sounded on my front door, and before I could respond, it swung open, letting a gust of cold air and my parents inside.

“Hurry in!” I called from the kitchen. “It’s freezing!” This springtime cold front was unusual for these parts of Texas, and I was ready for it to go away.

Mom and Dad rushed inside, my mom tugging a hand-knitted cap from her mop of blond curls. Dad stood behind her, holding on to her shoulder for balance as he kicked off his boots.

The sweet little gesture had my heart twisting with a pinch of jealousy. My parents had the kind of partnership I’d always admired and hoped to have for myself one day. But with my fortieth birthday coming up and no love interest in sight, the odds were looking slimmer and slimmer all the time.

With their outer gear off and hanging on my vintage coat tree by the entrance, Dad shut the door. It squeaked a little on the way, and he said, “Where’s your WD-40? I’ll take care of that for you.”

I barely said “garage” before he was on his way to handling it, his dusty white socks slipping over my hardwood floors.

Mom came to join me in the kitchen, rubbing her hands together. “I can’t remember the last time we got a chill this bad in March.”

“Come sit on the couch,” I said, steering her back to the living room. “I’ll start the fire for us.”

Mom blew on her fingertips while I pushed the button for the gas fireplace and grabbed a throw blanket for her. Dad walked back behind us, and I could hear the whoosh of the WD-40 can being sprayed and the latch of the door coming open.

Soon, there were no squeaks at all. “Got it,” Dad said.

I smiled over at him. “Thank you. I keep meaning to do that but never get around to it.”

“That’s why I’m here, sweetie.” He smiled at me and then asked, “Need help with dinner?”

“I just need to prep a salad. Everything else is in the oven,” I said.

Soon, Dad and I were at the table, slicing lettuce and tomatoes and chatting about work. He was a great listener, and he didn’t just ask questions for the sake of conversation. He actually cared about my answers.

Which was making this really awkward.

I’d never kept a secret from my parents before, and it was eating me up inside.

Dad used a pair of forks to toss the salad as he said, “I heard you got towed today. You know you could have called me.”

“It’s okay. Hayes gave me a ride in the tow truck.”

Dad grunted his disapproval. “Wish there was more than one mechanic in town.”

Mom and I both gave him curious looks. “What do you mean?” Mom asked. “He always does a good job for us.”

With a reluctant nod, Dad conceded, “He does a fine job, but he’s such a womanizer. He’s been by the co-op to see the receptionist. And the branch manager. And the janitor! I don’t want people to think I’m condoning that kind of behavior.”

My eyebrows raised. “Tell us how you really feel, Chuck.”

Dad rolled his eyes at me. “It just gets me riled up is all. There’s a way to treat a woman, and ‘disposable’ isn’t it.”

Some small part of me felt defensive for Hayes, but I didn’t have a chance to stand up for him before Mom chimed in from her perch on the couch.

“We’ve all got our faults,” she said. Which was her way of changing the subject. Dad replied, “I’ll get the silverware and drinks for everyone.”

While he did that, I went to the oven and pulled out the lasagna. The cheese was just beginning to crisp on top, and the scent of thyme and oregano had my mouth watering. I carried it to my table in potholders and then set it out for us to eat.

There wasn’t much talking as we served ourselves and took the first few bites. But then Mom said, “Your car must really be worrying you... You’re usually talking our ear off at dinnertime.”

I shook my head, setting down my fork. “It’s not my car. It’s... something else.”

That had my parents’ attention. They both looked at me—Mom with her pale-green eyes. Dad with his light blue. And I took a deep breath. It was time to tell them...

“I’m moving away from Cottonwood Falls.” The words tumbled from my mouth in a rush, wrecking the mood like a bowling ball into the kingpin.

Mom’s fork clattered to the table, and a dip formed between Dad’s eyebrows.

“What?” Mom asked first while Dad kept watching like he was trying to understand some alien language. “Your job is here. Your friends. I don’t understand.”

“I was offered a job in Dallas,” I said. Despite practicing my explanation a million times, the words still sounded wooden coming out of my mouth.

“What job?” Dad demanded, brow still knit.

So I explained that Griffen Industries needed an in-house insurance expert, and Gage Griffen (the founder and a friend from Cottonwood Falls) thought of me.

“But why?” Mom asked. “Your life is here.”

My cheeks flamed, and I had to remind myself to breathe. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Is it about the money?” my dad pressed.

I shook my head. It wasn’t about money—although the bump in pay would be nice. There were other goals I hoped to reach in my life. Ones that weren’t happening here.

My breath shook, and so did my hands, so I wrung them in my lap.

“I’m almost forty, and I don’t have any relationship prospects in sight.

Everyone in this town is paired up, not interested, or an ex.

And I want what you both have with all my heart.

I want a husband, a family. I want a happily ever after. It’s just not finding me here.”

Tears pricked at my eyes. Of embarrassment. Of loss. It was hard to feel like there wasn’t something wrong with me, being passed over for love all these years.

If twenty-year-old me could see my current self—still single with no prospects in sight—she’d be devastated. And to tell the truth, current me was devastated too. I was running out of time to have a family of my own.

Mom and Dad exchanged a silent conversation, and then Dad said, “When do you start?”

“In three months.”

I had three months to pack up my entire life, say goodbye to my friends, and start all over.

Dallas, here I come.