“Better.” But I’m still gulping down excessive amounts of saliva.
My husband lifts his shoulders. “Either way, we don’t want it dry.”
It doesn’t make a difference to me. I don’t want to tell him, but the smell of cooked meat is making me nauseous. Everyone else will gladly devour the bird. Bile rises up my throat at the thought and I choke it down. Colton notices, rubbing my back in soothing circles.
“You okay?”
“Mhmm,” I mumble. “Just taking it all in.”
But he’s not convinced. His gaze searches for any sign of upset. “Do you need to rest?”
That earns him a gentle swat from the dish towel. A giggle distracts from my queasy stomach. “Quit fussing over me and worry about your feast.”
“Need help carving?” Brody’s offer comes from the living room where he’s lounging unapologetically.
“As if you’re getting off your butt,” I sass.
“One of us needs to lend a hand. I’d hate to see you break a nail.”
My tongue sticks out at him even though he can’t see me. “It doesn’t count if you don’t mean it.”
“Come give me a push and I’ll be right there. Your sofa is too comfortable.” His broad bulk slouches lower into the cushions.
“Gonna need a forklift to remove you.” I imitate the beeping of the heavy machinery.
“We’re good,” Colton tells Brody to end the debate.
My brother gives a thumbs-up before returning his focus to the football game. Dad sits beside him on the left and Paisley flanks his right. It’s a beautiful image—one I capture with a quick photo. I’m starting to clutter our walls with framed memories. The only person missing is Mom.
Well, that’s not entirely true. Our cousins couldn’t make it. Chance’s response didn’t surprise me, but Byron and Frankie were another story. When I asked the grumpy single dad what the deal was, he said something about a flight risk and hung up. Less mouths for us to feed.
Colton groans, which clenches my vagina walls in eager acceptance. At least until the thick aroma of steamy poultry assaults my nostrils. Another smooth slice cuts deeper into the roasted turkey, boosting his joy higher.
“Look at that, Princess.” Pride shines in his voice. “Extra juicy.”
The urge to hurl lurches me forward. “Umm, that’s… great. Almost ready to serve? I’ll pour the drinks.”
Bottles of wine and sparkling apple juice get gripped in my whitened knuckles as I try to get ahold of myself. The gurgles in my gut slowly fade when I get space from the smelly scene. After the glasses are full, I toss a few ginger mints into my mouth. The taste settles my sickness immediately. I dare to inhale, discovering I can breathe without the threat of vomiting.
Relief has me grinning at my husband, but then I’m struck by a very intense craving. His tattooed arms flex from the force of slicing and plating. Sweat glistens on his forehead, sparking a fever in my lower belly. A soft whimper dribbles free as he gets started on scooping the mashed potatoes. I blindly reach out for support, curling my fingers around the top of a chair. Damn, he’s sexy.
I glance over my shoulder. The three on the couch are still distracted by the football game. Maybe I can steal Colton away for a halftime show of our own. There hasn’t been nearly enough sex in our marriage and I’m ready to fix that.
Our honeymoon officially starts after Christmas. We decided to wait until after the holiday season. Colton lightly suggested we could host Thanksgiving a few days late due to the recent upheavals in our routines. In that same speech, my overly considerate husband made sure to spell out that he’d handle all the preparations. I’m barely pregnant, but he’s already acting like I should constantly have my feet up. Right now, I’d love to be folded like laundry with my ankles at my ears while he—
A soft touch to my shoulder rouses me from the filthy fantasy that doesn’t belong in this setting. “Are you feeling well? You’re really flushed, Bee.”
I swipe at my chin, not bothering to peek over at Paisley. “Super hungry.”
Brody lumbers over with the grace of a buffalo. “Good thing we’re ready to eat.”
“I think you should all leave,” I mumble under my breath.
Dad balks. “What?”
The shock in his voice slaps the hussy trying to invade me. “Please take a seat.”
He chuckles. “That’s not what I heard the first time. Shoot, gotta get my ears checked.”
