“Zeke said he’s fine either way,” I reply, taking a sip of tea from my mug and cozying down in Tabby’s small car. “I kind of want to know.”
My phone buzzes in my lap, and I flip it over. It’s Mom. I’ve been answering her enough, but she’s getting more and more suspicious. I think she’s just freaked out because Lisa is on holiday. She can’t function without Lisa. Lisa takes the entire month of December off every year to go home to Texas, so this time of year is always rough. Mom only lets it happen because Lisa is irreplaceable. Nothing would happen without her ability to run a tight and meticulous schedule.
My breath catches as I swallow my feelings. My mom should be here with me through this.
Tabby reaches over and takes my hand. “I’m sorry, Nova. Are you close with her?”
I shrug. Close isn’t how I’d describe it, but Mom loves us, and I love her. We’re not the idyllic family, not even close. But she’s my mom.
I squeeze Tabby’s hand, but the car slides around a little, so she takes it back to keep both hands on the wheel.
“We’re close enough that I’m sad she’s not here.” I notice Tabby driving is a little slow, but I’m not going to say anything because I would refuse to drive at all with the snow blowing around like this.
“Do you want me in there with you? I have to pick up some stuff for the Christmas party, but I can do that after.”
“No, that’s fine,” I say, and Tabby glares in the rearview.
“Jesus, asshole, just pass if I’m driving too slow,” she yells at the car behind us. “I hate it when people do that. Pass or stay off my ass.”
“You sound like Terry,” I tease her about her boss, remembering theless yakking, more stackingincident, and she bursts out laughing.
“Oh my God,” she snorts.
Tabby slams her palm on the steering wheel, trying to get herself under control. She tells me a string of ridiculous stories about her job until I’m laughing so hard, I might piss myself. Once she’s done, silence falls in the car, and I wipe under my eyes to get rid of my tears. She stills and becomes lost inside her thoughts, the huge smile slowly falling and her brow furrowing.
“What am I going to do with myself when you’re gone?” I pout, feeling a genuine sadness at the thought of her leaving.
On January third, she flies to the other side of Canada to start university. Even though that’s a month from now, I still feel the looming loneliness. She’s my cooking buddy, my friend, the girl who takes my mind off Zeke and the baby, and my secrets and lies.
Tabby bites her cheek and focuses on the road, glancing up every so often to check the person still driving behind us. Eventually, her signature smile brightens her face.
“You have lots to keep you busy,” she says, flicking her gaze my way, glancing at my stomach. “Plus, it’s only four months. You all can survive that long without me.”
The flash of rigid denial in Zeke’s gaze this morning—and that night I held his hand while Tabby made toast—come rushing back. Zeke will survive it, but it’s really not going to be easy.
Maybe I can be there for him like he’s been here for me.