“Yeah, it was annoying the hell out of me.” Coraline grinned at her sister, joining them by the table. “Hey, Frederick. How are you doing?”
“Good,” he answered automatically, even though he felt tense and jittery from having Anne so close. The effort of not looking at her was draining, which was ridiculous since she’d been herefor less than ten minutes. “I heard you two were taking a different direction with the wedding colors.”
Bethany groaned theatrically, and Coraline playfully jabbed an elbow in her sister’s side. “If by ‘you two’ you mean ‘me’ and by ‘taking a different direction’ you mean ‘I changed my mind again,’ then yes. Yes, we are.”
“Thank goodness the wedding is far off enough that we bridesmaids don’t have our dresses yet.” Bethany wagged an admonishing finger at her older sister. “I refuse to get a new dress every time you change your mind.”
“Speaking of dresses—” Coraline began.
“Come get your turkey,” Katie bellowed loudly enough to stop all conversation in the kitchen. The crew members who’d been helping set the table had all drifted away to various corners of the kitchen, but she once again commanded their full attention. “Remember this is B Shift you’re dealing with. If you snooze, there won’t even be any gravy left to scrape out of the bowl.”
Katie watched the stampede to the table with a satisfied smile. She was the wife of a battalion chief—this was hardly her first Thanksgiving at the station—and it showed. The woman knew exactly what she was doing, and everyone loved her for it.
Busy enjoying the spectacle as well, Frederick missed his chance to pick a seat. Now there were only two remaining chairs—one by Bethany and another one by Anne. Sitting with Bethany was bound to give Joe false hope about his matchmaking efforts. His gaze drifted toward Anne. Sitting with her was…
Anne suddenly glanced up, and their eyes collided. His breath caught in his throat, and he had to lock his suddenly weak knees in case they buckled. She was so fucking beautiful—even more so than he’d remembered. How was that even possible?
If he sat next to her, would their legs touch under the table? Would their arms brush against each other? He could close hishand over hers if they reached for the same roll at the exact same time. Was her skin as soft as he remembered? She used to make these breathless little sounds when he dragged his lips across her silken skin…
His blood rushed south so fast that the room tilted on its axis. As soon as the room righted itself, he scrambled into the seat next to Bethany, who shot him a startled glance. He coughed into his fist and mumbled, “I didn’t want to miss out on your turkey.”
“Oh.” A shy, pleased smile lit up Bethany’s face, and Joe winked at him from the other side of the table.
Well, shit.At least Frederick wouldn’t spend the entire dinner fighting the urge to “accidentally” touch his ex like a fucking creep. With some effort, he focused enough to catch the latter half of what Bethany was saying. She either hated canned cranberry sauce or loved it. Personally, he was a gravy man. Even so, he smiled and nodded at her, grateful for the distraction.
Frederick would have to burst Joe’s matchmaking bubble later. For the time being, he needed to focus on keeping his head on straight with Anne in the same room. He stole a glimpse of her. She sat sandwiched between Nick and Sandy near the end of the other side of the table. He couldn’t “accidentally” touch her even if he slid down his chair and stretched his leg all the way out.
It felt like a safe distance, but he couldn’t risk looking at her. He would take it in one-minute increments. If he didn’t look at her for a whole minute, he would take it as a win.
He stole another glance at Anne.Goddammit.She held out a plate of candied yams to Sandy, encouraging her to take some first. He blew out a long breath, dismayed that he didn’t last ten seconds, much less one minute.
Would anyone notice if he ate with his eyes closed? No, he could do this. Frederick could survive one lousy evening with Anne. Thanksgiving dinner couldn’t last forever.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bethany’s turkey was perfection—tender and flavorful—and Anne nearly choked on it several times over the course of Thanksgiving dinner. At the opposite end of the table, Frederick and her cousin kept up a steady flow of conversation, sprinkled with light laughter.
Jealousy pricked at her skin like a thousand needles. Anne didn’t have the bandwidth to deny or rationalize how she felt. She was jealous. Did the why even matter? People felt possessive of their exes all the time. It was irrational but natural nonetheless. Besides, the sting of jealousy was more irritating than painful. It was the yearning that gutted her. She couldn’t have what she wanted, but shewanted.
Anne wanted to scream he was hers even though that would be a blatant lie. Frederick stopped being hers the moment she walked out on him ten years ago. But her body and heart didn’t seem to remember he didn’t belong to her anymore.
This was what she’d been afraid of. Seeing him made her yearn for an impossible future—the future she dreamed of as a foolish young girl. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t in love with Frederick anymore. What she felt now was a mirage woven together by nostalgia and wishful thinking. It wasn’t real.
And it made her hopes to make amends with Frederick seem self-serving, like she only wanted to set things right to win himback. But she didn’t want to win him back. She wanted to make amends for the lingering hurt she sensed in him so she could move on. She wanted to move on, right?
Anxious with the trajectory of her thoughts, Anne angled her body away from Frederick and Bethany and found herself looking straight at Katie, who looked inexplicably furious with her. They’d barely said hello to each other. Why would she be mad at her?
Anne offered her an uneasy smile, which the other woman pointedly didn’t return. Katie held her gaze for a second longer, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly, then she turned to Michelle with ahugesmile and chatted happily with her.
“Oh.” A cranberry bounced off the side of Anne’s nose, drawing her attention away from Katie’s mystifying antagonism.
“Shit.” Nick, who was sitting on her right, ducked his head in embarrassment, the tips of his ears turning as red as his hair. The young firefighter was built like a boulder, but he was endearingly sweet. “Sorry, Anne.”
“No harm done,” she assured him.
“You’re such an asshole, Nick.” Sandy, the intended target of the rogue cranberry, burst out laughing from Anne’s left. Her beautiful eyes danced with merriment, more gold than brown against her dewy ebony skin. “Leave the decorations alone.”
Anne quickly leaned back in her chair as Nick launched another cranberry at Sandy. Anne smiled wanly at the antics of the rookie firefighters.
