Her words brought joy to Bianca’s heart. She needed to hear them. They felt like healing to her soul. Bodega Bay had been where she and Mila had first truly connected, and she hoped it would be the place where they found each other again.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, looked at the text in front of her. It was Harry.
I’m supposed to pick Mila up at the airport this afternoon, but she’s not answering her phone.
Bianca typed:She’s cooking. I’ll have her call you.
The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared. Then:How are you doing, Bianca?
She typed:I’m doing great. Getting stronger every day.
Harry replied:That’s great to hear.He was still typing. Then:Bianca, you were right about Jen. She was the one stalking you.
She stood frozen. Her mind jolted back to the very first message she received—the one that had knocked her off course. The feeling of violation; of intrusion that she’d felt. Fear had taken over her entire body, made her restless and uneasy. She had blamed the wrong person for creeping into her dreams, causing her restless nights—when all along it was Harry’s girlfriend.
“Wow.” She whispered it to herself. Then she typed it:Wow!
He replied:I saw the messages on her phone. I’m sorry that you had to endure that. I confronted her, and we are no longer together. I can’t have someone like that around me or my daughter.Then another message appeared:If you want to file charges …
Bianca’s reply came swiftly, with three simple words:I’m over it.
It was true. Bianca really was over it. Sure, she was shocked to find out who was sending the messages, but she’d gotten past all of it. So many things were in the rearview mirror ofher life now. She wasn’t looking back anymore. She was bracing for whatever came next.
Just as Mila flipped the last three pancakes, she looked up at Bianca. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Bianca slid her phone into the pocket of her leggings.
Remi and Zoe wandered into the kitchen. Remi rubbed sleep from her eyes. “Something smells wonderful. I knew one of you was down here cooking.”
Bianca lifted her coffee mug with a grin. “It’s all Mila. I’m just an innocent bystander.”
Breakfast had been good—hearty. Their last meal before sending the girls off was one for the books. Mila was becoming a great cook. The four of them savored the meal and then talked about the summer and all they’d been through. They laughed and made promises to spend Thanksgiving together.
“I’d like to try my hand at a Butterball turkey,” Mila said, fork in midair. “And some Creole mac and cheese.”
“Okay,” Remi said. “I’m certainly looking forward to that.”
“I’ll put the rolls in the oven,” Zoe said laughing.
“That’s all you got?” Remi asked teasingly.
“That’s all I got.” Zoe grinned. She had refreshed her cornrows the night before.
“Well, I’ll bring the wine,” Remi said with a smile.
“Of course you will.” Bianca smiled and shook her head. “I think we should incorporate some Cuban dishes. Honor our Cuban heritage.” She looked at Mila.
“I’d like that,” Mila said. “Maybe we can use some of Abuelita’s recipes.”
“For sure. I have some of them.” Bianca smiled. “I’m really excited about Thanksgiving now.”
“Maybe we should do it in Bodega Bay,” Remi suggested. “Break in your new kitchen.”
“That’s a great idea,” Zoe said.
“Maybe we should,” Bianca agreed, smiling widely. She beamed at the thought of her new space. She couldn’t wait to make new memories there.
And Thanksgiving was just around the corner.