“Thanks, Rory. This looks great,” Owen said. He buttered a piece of bread and placed it next to the mountain of potatoes on his plate.
Swiveling on my stool, I turned toward the group behind me. “You’re welcome. Before we eat, I’d like to go around and say what we are all thankful for. It’s a holiday tradition, so I’ll go first. I’m thankful for this experience in Ireland. I’ve learned more about myself than I ever expected.” Jaime reached under the counter and rubbed my knee. “Jaime?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m thankful for new friends. I wasn’t thrilled about being thrown into an all-girls flat, especially with all Americans, but it’s been a great experience.”
I played with my fork and felt his eyes on my fingers. Beside him, my body relaxed for the first time since Marty and Scott had arrived.
“I’m thankful for new roommates and new relationships.” Zoey looked at Jaime and then Marissa before tucking her head in her chest. A smile crept across her lips.
The five people at the table looked at each other, waiting for someone else to go next.
“I’ll go,” Marissa began. “Pumpkin pie is something I’m thankful for. I still can’t believe we shipped our pumpkin puree from the States.”
Jaime grimaced. “Uh, Marissa, sorry, but there won’t be any pumpkin pie today. It burned under the marshmallow lava.”
Her head dropped, and she scanned the kitchen for dessert. “Okay, I’m thankful for digestives, the cookie I thought would make me poop.” Everyone chuckled. “They’re delicious and a close second to pie.” She looked at Owen to continue.
“I’m thankful for football. It was how I met Jaime. Aoife?”
She cleared her throat and took a sip before continuing. “I’m thankful for my brother. It was how I met Jaime.” She looked at me and our eyes locked. I refused to break her gaze until I felt Marty’s eyes on me. Aoife smirked at me and smiled at Marty, sensing the audience.
“I’m thankful for Rory. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had.” A smile traveled across Marty’s lips, and I distracted myself with my fork. I leaned forward to deny her eye contact and reached for a napkin, keeping myself busy.
Scott chuckled. “I’m thankful for Rory’s cooking. It appears the magic of Ireland hasn’t quite helped her in the kitchen, but at least she’s moved beyond hotdogs and cereal.”
I whipped my head around and cackled, anger brewing like a tea kettle. Jerk. Who invited you, anyway?
I pulled my emotions in and smiled. “Happy Thanksgiving. It may not be how I imagined it, but it will still be a memorable day.”
I ate my dinner in silence, tuning out the surrounding conversation. Zoey appeared just as uncomfortable as I felt, probably because of the secret she had shared with me the night before. She rushed through her meal and excused herself, grabbing a digestive on the way out of the kitchen. “I’ll help you clean up dinner,” she whispered.
“So, what’s the deal with you two?” Aoife asked Scott. I didn’t know if she was referring to Marty or me, so I turned for clarification.
She looked back and forth between Scott and Marty. Marty took a sip of her beer and adjusted herself in her chair, facing Scott. “We’re just friends.”
My blood ran cold, and my veins turned to ice.
“How’d you guys meet?” Aoife asked. I assumed her questions were innocent, but they twisted the knife in my back. I tapped my fingers on the counter, staring at the clock on the microwave.
Scott cleared his throat. “Actually, through Rory.”
I kept my mouth sealed, afraid to say something I would regret. Adrenaline traveled through my body at dangerous speeds and my eye twitched.
“Oh, were you friends before you dated?”
“Yeah, we dated for quite a while. Like a year, right Rory?”
Scott’s convenient lack of memory regarding our relationship made it difficult to breathe. “The worst year of my life,” I mumbled.
Zoey walked into the kitchen to grab another biscuit.
“What was that?” Aoife asked.
I tapped my foot on the rung at the bottom of the stool. “Eh, nothing. Yes, we dated last year. We, um, just broke up. When I came here. Well, we didn’t break up. He stopped returning my emails, so I assumed we had broken up. Right, Scott?”
His back straightened, and his rigid posture held up his bobblehead. “Right.”
Waiting for him to confess his betrayal, I tapped my fork on my plate.
