Chapter Fifteen
NATE HADmade one major miscalculation about Thanksgiving dinner: how long it would take one person to prepare it.
His mom had always done everything when he was growing up. Now he wanted her to be able to relax, enjoy the sights in Chicago, and come back to a nice dinner. But at this rate, the dinner he’d scheduled for five was going to be more like eight.
Fortunately Aubrey picked up on the first ring.
“Please don’t tell me you need me to go to the grocery store.”
“I don’t need you to go to the grocery store,” Nate said obediently. Then something occurred to him. “Although… you don’t happen to have any wine?”
He could practically hear Aubrey’s eye roll. “Red, white, rosé, or sparkling?”
Yeah, that was a stupid question. “Yes,” Nate answered. “Actually, are you busy?”
“I’m watching the 2019 World Championships in my underwear and eating cereal out of the box.”
Now there was an image. “What kind of cereal?”
“Corn Pops.”
“Nice. Good choice.”
Aubrey crunched on some Corn Pops. “So, what’s up?”
Clearing his throat, Nate surveyed the carnage of his kitchen. A bag of unpeeled potatoes. A similar mound of yams. Unstemmed green beans. A can of pumpkin filling, a bag of flour, powdered sugar, mace and cloves. He’d managed to get the stuffed turkey in the oven, but that was it. Time to swallow his pride. “I kind of need a sous chef.”
“Oh?” The laugh in his voice was obvious. “Parents can’t be trusted in the kitchen?”
“I kicked them out to go sightseeing and enjoy their holiday, but I think I bit off more than I can chew. Or will be able to chew. No chewing will be happening for a long time unless I get some help, is what I’m saying.”
“Mm-hmm,” Aubrey said, crunching a little more.
He was really going to make Nate ask. Fine. “If you’re not too busy, would you mind putting on some pants and helping me out?”
Aubrey let himself in ten minutes later, in a purple T-shirt and sweatpants that said PINK in glitter across the ass. He’d brought his own apron too—a black one with a giant sausage and the legend Size Matters.
“Classy,” Nate said.
“Beggars and choosers, Nate.” Aubrey plunked two bottles of wine on the counter and cracked one open.
Nate coughed. “Feeling a little parched after those Corn Pops?”
“I love cooking with wine,” Aubrey said seriously, taking down a pair of glasses. “Sometimes I even put it in the food.” He poured and then handed Nate a glass. “Cheers. Now, what do you need me to do?”
Nate held up a potato peeler and the can of pumpkin. “Choose your weapon.”
Aubrey selected the peeler—wise choice—and Nate turned on the radio to play in the background as he flicked through his tablet for directions on how to make a pumpkin pie.
“I always preferred apple.” Aubrey had amassed a pile of potato peels the size of a dinner plate.
“What!” Nate turned so sharply he got sugar all over the counter. Oh well, the kitchen was a total loss anyway. “Shit. That seems like the sort of thing a boyfriend should know.”
Aubrey’s brows furrowed. “Yeah, but they probably find out at their first joint Thanksgiving. I don’t think our cover’s blown.”
True, but it didn’t make Nate feel any better. Actually he felt kind of… ill. Maybe he should’ve eaten lunch. He dusted his hand off on his pants and grabbed his phone to send a quick text.
“Hey.” Aubrey bumped Nate’s arm, still frowning. “Look, it’s fine. It’s not like this would’ve come up in casual conversation. We can always say we were too busy having sex to talk pie.”
