Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
I get out of the car in front of the hospital, and I’m about to walk in when I turn and see her walking toward me. Well, she’s walking toward the hospital. I take her in before she knows I’m watching her. She’s wearing blue jeans and a white knitted sweater with a brown jacket open and a thick scarf around her neck. She must sense I’m watching because she turns her head. Our eyes meet, and it’s there. Her smile’s not a fake one, not one she has to put on, but one that fills her face. One that makes her eyes twinkle, and all you want to do is lean in and kiss that smile.
“Hey there, stranger,” she says as she gets close to me. She gives me a hug, something that she’s only done once before. “Happy Thanksgiving.” I hug her with one hand since the other is holding my bag.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I say. I don’t want to let her go, but she steps away from me. “Are you by yourself?”
“Just little old me, why?” she asks me, and the wind blows her hair to the side. “Oh, God, is Matthew still going on about that date?” She shakes her head. “He’s ridiculous.” She turns and starts to walk into the hospital, and I follow her. “It’s good to see you,” she says. I look over at her, and I can’t help the smile that fills my face.
“It’s good to see you, too.” I tell her the truth, and that’s all I’m able to tell her before the elevator comes and we are pushed in together. Then the madness of Thanksgiving starts.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zoe
I step into the elevator, and I can still feel his hand on my back from when I hugged him. I hugged him like a love-sick puppy. We’ve never hugged, I mean, one time we did, but that was the night I realized that I liked him. A LOT. It was also the night I told myself that I had to let him go and stop thinking about him.
The elevator gets crowded, and I’m pushed up next to him. If I turned to face him and got on my tippy toes, I could kiss him—just a peck with some tongue—but I don’t. I form an invisible barrier between us and force myself not to even let our feet touch. When we get off together, we can hear the voices already. The nurses are decorating by hanging paper turkeys. “I think we should just follow the noise,” I tell him, and he nods as we walk past some of the patients’ rooms. Most of the doors are open, and the closed ones have turkeys taped to the door. “Is it always this loud?” Viktor asks, and I just smirk.
“You haven’t seen anything yet. Wait till they decide who does the toast. It’s goes on like WrestleMania,” I tell him. “Last year, Matthew begged to be the one to talk. He’s never gotten to do it. Denise usually says something or Max, since it’s his foundation and her work. Max and Matthew tried to do rock, paper, scissors for an hour. In the end, my father was the one who said something as Matthew and Max both glared at each other.”
We make it to the room where the tables are being set up. It’s half empty, and the only people I see are Zara and my mother. “Where is everyone?” I ask, looking around and hearing their voices.
“They are making an executive decision on moving the dinner,” Zara says, sitting down with her hand on her belly. “Max thinks we should move it down to the cafeteria since it’s big, but Denise just wants to do it here in two sittings.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.” I smile to my mom and go over to hug her.
“Happy Thanksgiving, honey,” she says, smiling and then looks over at Viktor. “Happy Thanksgiving, Viktor. We are so happy you could join us.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he says, then looks at Zara with a smile and then back at my mother. “I don’t think I would miss any of this,” he says, and then Matthew comes into the room with Max and my father following him.
“Okay, we are going to do tables in this room,” Max says. “And then food in the other one.”
“That is a great idea,” my mother says and Matthew groans. “Matthew Grant.”
“But, Mom,” he huffs. “It’s just bigger downstairs.”
“It’s just too hard to move some of the patients,” Denise says, and I look at her with her little baby bump finally showing. “It will be fine here. We’ve always made it work.” Her voice goes soft. “The main thing is that we are all together,” she says and hugs her husband and her stepson Jack. “Thankful that we have our health and that we can bring some joy if only for just this one day.”