“Do what?”
“Offer to cook a Thanksgiving dinner. I’m going to screw it all up. I know I am.”
Tristan stops rummaging through the fridge and moves to stand in front of me. His fingers press comfortingly into my shoulders. “You’ve got this. Trust me.”
I force myself to take a deep breath and try my hardest to believe him. It’s near impossible, though. The last few years have been spent with just me, Tristan, and Luci. We would eat frozen pizzas and drink wine until we fell asleep on the couch. Now Ashton is here, and I’ve invited Holden and his friends. I want—need—this dinner to be perfect. Ashton deserves his first actual Thanksgiving to be a good one. I can’t humiliate myself in front of my boyfriend. I can’t let my nephew down.
If my friends were the only guests, we would be able to laugh off any mishaps, get drunk, and forget that dinner was ruined.
That isn’t an option now.
“What if it sucks?” I whisper, and his grip tightens.
“Listen to me, Dealla. If somehow everything goes wrong, well, Ashton is too young to remember. We have plenty of wine and whiskey to get rid of memories. And Holden is so damn head over heels for you, he won’t give a damn about anything except for the fact he got to spend time with you. His friends, whoever comes, won’t judge you, either.”
I exhale slowly, nod once, then set about getting the food ready. Tristan and I work in silence; he focuses on the turkey and ham, while I dump the ingredients for green bean casserole into a baking dish. Once that’s ready, I move on to cornbread and scalloped potatoes, thanking my past self for buying frozen pies instead of trying to make my own.
After everything is in the double-oven, I breathe easier. It’s barely past eight in the morning, but I pour myself a glass of wine anyway. I take a sip before setting the glass on the counter, then head to my bedroom to get dressed. Usually, I stick to ‘comfort clothes’, leggings and a loose T-shirt, but today… With Holden coming, I decide on a plum-colored wrap dress that falls to my mid-thighs and sheer tights. My fingers tremble slightly as I works the clasp of the necklace Holden bought for me. The opal pendant settles, cool and shining, against my skin.
All the anxiety I’ve battled since four this morning melts away with the tired, face-scrunching smile Ashton gives me once he wakes. I swing him up into my arms, kissing his cheeks over and over, before setting him back on his feet. He lets me change his diaper and dress him, then he toddles off to the toy bin. Building blocks tumble to the floor with a series of clatters.
I head to the kitchen area to double-check that I’ve started timers and to make sure everything is on target, then I swallow the last mouthful of wine in my glass. Tristan takes it from me easily, refilling it, and I shake my head with a smile as he presses it back into my hands. I lean against the counter and watch as he rummages in the freezer for the bottle of whiskey I keep hidden away for when wine just won’t do.
“I’ll get it,” I announce when someone knocks on the door three hours later.
My heart hammers beneath my ribs, and my stomach twists around itself. I’m not ready. Not yet. This is an enormous step in my life. I’ve never hosted Thanksgiving before, not like this. I have no choice now, though. I made the decision, now I have to see it through.
I wipe my hands on the dishtowel then head to the door. Luci stands on the other side, flanked by—
“Hey, sweetheart,” Holden says softly, easing his way past Luci to kiss my cheek.
“Hey.”
I step back so Holden can lead Luci, Eddie, Evelyn, and John into the apartment. Tristan greets the newcomers warmly and offers drinks. Luci moves to help him pour wine and whiskey, and open a bottle of beer. Holden ignores the rest of them, pulls me into his arms. His lips are chapped but gentle on mine, and I melt against his chest. It’s such a chaste thing, barely more than a brush of lips, but still it sends my knees shaking.
“Missed you,” I whisper, and he smiles crookedly. “I’m glad you could come.”
“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
I reluctantly pull away and move toward the kitchen. Shooing everyone except Tristan from the area, I set about removing food from the ovens, and he places everything on the counters and bar. I turn to announce dinner is ready but stop short. My words shrivel on my tongue; heat fills my eyes, and my breath hitches.
Ashton leans against Holden’s knee, one hand clinging to the hem of Holden’s maroon button-down, the fingers of his other hand shoved into his mouth. Holden’s hand rubs gentle circles into the toddler’s back, and his lips hold a small smile even as he talks to Luci and Evelyn. I force myself to turn away, and Tristan catches my eye. I know he understands, and I nod in response to his unasked question. I’m fine, I just need a minute.
A minute I get, then it’s time to get back to myself.
“Let the feast begin!” I proclaim, and the others descend upon the food in mere seconds.
I stand back out of the way while everyone loads up their plates, only speaking to ask for a serving of this or a scoop of that. A peaceful sort of chaos, I think before I see the small plastic plate in Holden’s hand. He has Ashton in one arm, and he sets the plate on the counter to grab a serving spoon sticking up from amid the macaroni and cheese. Ashton has an arm around Holden’s neck; he points to the potato salad next, and Holden scoops some onto the plate.
Luci steps up beside me, leaning in close to whisper, “He’s pretty amazing.”
“He is.”
“Ashton loves him.”
“And that’s what frightens me most,” I admit, unable to ignore the frown on Luci’s face. Shaking my head, I gesture with my chin toward the food. “We’ll talk later. Let’s eat.”
Luci nods and bounces off to grab a paper plate from the stack. I follow behind, and we grab what we want in silence. I stab at a slice of ham, moving it to my plate, and glance at the turkey. It’s already half-gone. I swallow and turn my gaze back to the green bean casserole. Someone groans from the living room.
