Apparently, my efforts at cheering him up failed miserably.
But also, I'm glad Owen answered rather than Carolina. There'd be no recovering from that.
I mean, it's Xavier, so he's still the hottest guy I've ever met, but his clothes are rumpled and mismatched, he hasn't shaved, and I would guess he doesn't smell the freshest.
He looks like he needs a hug.
I step past my brother. "Hey, you found us! Xavier, this is my brother Owen. Owen, Xavier." Considering the tongue lashing I've already received from my eldest sibling, I don't bother with qualifiers like friend, husband, or guy I'm maybe sleeping with. I don't want to muddy the water.
"Pleasure to meet you." Xavier extends his hand. Owen, big on formality and appearances, has no choice but to take it.
"Ophelia said you've no place to go for the holiday?" Owen doesn't exactly say Xavier's welcome, but he at least steps aside to let Xavier in. I put my hand on Xavier's arm. "Do you want to get cleaned up? I can show you to my room."
"Right. I'm sorry I'm afraid I'm a bit of a wreck. A hot shower'd be heavenly."
Xavier runs out to the car and grabs his duffle. Owen eyes it suspiciously. "Planning on staying a while?"
Xavier offers a wry smile. "I'm in a bit of a transition currently, and I didn't do a fantastic job packing. I'm used to life on the road, but when I have to plan something outside my uniform, cleats, and trainers, I tend to bring too much."
I put my hand on Xavier's arm and show him to my room. He looks exhausted. "Is there anything you need? Towels are in there." I jerk my head toward the bathroom. I start toward the door and then stop. "Are you okay?"
He gives me a weak smile. "I'm afraid not. I …" He shrugs. "I don't know what the future holds, and that scares me. I have no idea who I am without football, and frankly, I'm not ready to find out yet. I may not have a choice though."
I step toward him and wrap my arms around his waist. "If it's any consolation, I have no idea who I am either." We hold each other for a moment before Xavier releases me.
"Thanks for that. I'd better get cleaned up." We stand there, inches apart. He's only been gone a few days, but I've missed him. I should tell him that, but I'm not supposed to miss him. This is bonus time with him. Gravy.
Let's face it, Thanksgiving is known for its gravy.
"Ophelia, can you come down here?" Owen bellows.
"You're in trouble, I believe." Xavier turns toward the bathroom.
Feeling like my feet are made of lead, I trudge downstairs to find my parents with Owen and Carolina in the kitchen. The kids are running around with their iPads in hand.
There are a lot of scowls.
"Carolina, I'm sure Owen told you, but I invited a guest for dinner. Thank you for opening your lovely home to not only me but him. You know, my parents always had room for one more at their table."
Dad puts his arm around Mom. "Aw, hon, it's nice to see Owen and Ophelia carrying on our tradition to make sure no one is alone on Thanksgiving."
This, of course, gives Carolina and Owen no choice but to be gracious a few minutes later when a clean and freshly groomed Xavier makes his way into the kitchen. It's disappointing that I won't get to see him walk around in various states of undress post-shower.
Maybe I'll ask him to do it one more time, just for posterity.
I make the introductions, and Xavier is cordial, yet reserved.
I wish my mother was so reserved. She's gushing and fawning, making a big deal out of his accent, asking him to say different words and what he calls different things. I guess we know which side of the family I inherited my awkwardness from.
Also, if my life were a rom-com movie, this is the part where the audience would be shifting in their seats from their second-hand embarrassment.
"Carolina, is there anything I can help you with?" I don't know what else to do.
"I think you've done enough, but I suppose you can add one more place setting. He won't have a place card. And then make sure people have drinks."
I turn to the dining room table, easily ten feet in length. I don't even know where you'd buy one that big or that they made tablecloths that long. The sheer expanse of it makes me think of The Last Supper, and I wonder if I can convince everyone to recreate that famous painting after dinner. "I'm sure that won't matter. He'll be sitting next to me."
The doorbell starts ringing and my mom and I are tasked with greeting the guests and getting drinks. I lose track of Xavier for a bit until a red-faced Owen enters the sitting room to announce that dinner is ready.
