“I’m grateful,” I said carefully, “for friends who became family when I needed it most.”
Vanessa squeezed my hand under the table. Lauren wiped her eyes. Simone nodded like she understood without needing details.
“To chosen family,” Lauren raised her glass.
And everyone echoed it.
After dinner, we sat in the hot tub under a sky full of stars. I held Maisie in the warm cabin while everyone else took turns soaking. Nobody complained about her fussing. Nobody rolled their eyes when she needed a bottle. Rosa made me a special plate of food to eat later because she saw I’d been feeding Maisie during dinner.
It was the first time since Maisie was born that I felt like myself again.
On our last morning there, the sunrise over the frozen lake was so beautiful it hurt. I took one photo—just one—of the lodge reflecting pink sky and mountains.
I posted it with one word and a heart emoji.
Grateful.
I didn’t tag anyone. I didn’t mention Montana. I didn’t think much of it.
Two days after Thanksgiving, back home in Seattle, my phone started blowing up like a siren.
Mom: Why didn’t you tell us you were going to Montana? We thought you were spending Thanksgiving alone.
Brinn: Wow. Must be nice to afford luxury vacations while some of us are struggling.
Kyle: So you’re too good for family now. Is that it?
Dad: Your mother is very upset you didn’t even mention your plans.
I stared at the messages in disbelief.
They didn’t invite me.
They didn’t ask about my plans.
They told me to skip Mom’s birthday because they needed a break from my kid.
But now they were upset I hadn’t informed them of my Thanksgiving plans.
