A Touch of Cinnamon
Page 15
“I know,” she replied, and I hoped those weren’t tears I heard in her voice. “Be safe, Belle. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom. See you soon.”
I shut off my phone and stuck it in my back pocket, then looked around the house that had been my home for the last ten years. It was empty now, save the few things I’d kept behind for my trip, and the large open rooms felt as hollow as my heart.
It had been a year since Ricky died, but I’d been unable to think about what to do next, until recently. I’d been comfortable in my grief, and stayed because this is where I felt closest to him.
We’d met twelve years ago in Louisiana, but I moved here once we were married, and the bulk of our relationship was spent here. So when I lost him, the thought of losing San Diego, our house, and our memories, was too much to bear. So I stayed, even though there was nothing for me here any longer.
My parents live in Florida, and I’m an only child.
Ricky’s father passed away four years ago, colon cancer, and his mother and sister, Consuela, still live in Louisiana.
I have no family here, and no one that I would call a true friend. I mean, sure, I’d made some friends at work over the years, but with Ricky gone so often, I mostly kept to myself.
He was not only my husband, but also my best friend, and with him gone I’d went from a loner to a hermit.
I’d started drinking. Initially, to ease the pain I’d felt with his death, but lately, I drank because it was four o’clock, and I had nothing else to do. Plus, I liked it. I liked feeling numb. When I drank the anxiety and panic left me. I knew my limits, too. I knew how much I needed to drink to reach that moment of peace, and when I needed to stop before peace became loneliness and grief.
I’d finally come to the realization that I couldn’t live this way any longer, so I’d sold the house, had our stuff packed up and loaded on a truck, and was about to embark on my first adventure in years.
I think my mother suspected that I was drinking too much, and I knew she wanted to get me in person so she could confirm her fears, but I wasn’t ready to stop. Alcohol had become my friend. The one thing I could rely on to make me feel better, and I wasn’t willing to give it up.
Ricky and I loved road trips, and often used them as a way to break out of the mold of our everyday lives. Whenever we took a trip, we vowed to be open to trying new things, and took that vow very seriously.
I was driving cross-country, stopping to see his family, and then my own, before I decided what I wanted to do next with my life. Where I wanted to live. Where I wanted to work.
I was a cook. Not a chef, since I’d never been classically trained, but I’d been cooking since I was old enough to reach the counter in my mother’s kitchen. What had started as my mother teaching me what her mother had taught her, had turned into a passion, and I’d been working in kitchens since I was sixteen years old.
Over the last few years I’d been working at a diner. Working the early shift and mostly cooking breakfast and prepping lunch, before getting off and having my afternoons and evenings to myself. I wasn’t sure exactly where I wanted to go next, but I knew it would be in a kitchen somewhere. I needed at least that one semblance of normalcy in my life.
I took one last look at the shell of what had once been my home, slung my bag over my shoulder, and walked out without looking back.
It was time to move on.
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To Ann and Raine for their constant support and feedback. And, Lori, Jennifer, Kristi, and Christine for beta reading and telling me what you think!
To my ARC Team, thanks for being excited with me about these books. For giving me your feedback and for saying, “I can’t wait for the next one!”
To my family, for helping me stay dedicated, for understanding how much I love writing, and for supporting me along the way.
AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR BETHANY LOPEZ BEGAN self-publishing in June 2011. She’s a lover of all things romance: books, movies, music, and life, and she incorporates that into the books she writes. When she isn’t reading or writing, she loves spending time with her husband and children, traveling whenever possible. Some of her favorite things are: Kristen Ashley Books, coffee in the morning, and In N Out burgers.
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