Absolutely Not in Love (Sweater Weather, #7; Appies, #2)

by Jenny Proctor

A sudden—and probably ridiculous—desire to feed Gracie pops into my mind. She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need me to feed her. But I can’t shake the vision of her coming home after a long day at school, kicking off her shoes, and coming into my kitchen where I’m already making her dinner, Bach’s cello suites playing in the background.

Like her touch woke up a part of me that was dormant, and now everything is brighter, sharper, more intense. Which is so cheesy I can’t even stand myself, but I genuinely feel like I was living in black and white until Gracie touched me and flooded everything with color.

I love them because they are my parents and that’s what we do. We love family even when it’s hard. Even when it’s complicated and messy and uncomfortable.

She’s playing Bach’s first violin sonata—my grandmother’s favorite piece. My favorite piece.

I’ll follow her anywhere. Whatever it takes. Whatever she wants. I’m hers.

I can’t promise I won’t ever screw up again. But I can promise I will live every day trying my hardest to put you first—to love you like you deserve.