“It’s my first time hosting Thanksgiving for all these people! I’m nervous. You’re always smart at stuff like this.”
“I’ll google it, but I think it needs to rest anyway. Just put foil over it.”
“What do you mean, it needs to rest? I need to rest!” Kitty whined. “Guy told me to put it back in the oven. It’s gonna be like the turkey in Christmas Vacation. Even a dog won’t eat it.”
“It’ll be fine. Just take it out and foil it. You can leave it like that till right before we eat.”
“Thanks. How are you holding up today?” Kitty asked. “I feel bad that I can’t be there.”
“It’s fine. I’m doing okay. About as normal.”
“Hang on. Guy-Guy, can you finish the rest of the dishes without me? I wanna go see Annie.”
I heard Guy fumbling around in the background, trying to figure out if he could confidently do everything himself. “It’s fine, Kitty. I’ll just be finishing my pies and getting ready. I’ll see you in like three hours anyway.”
“Are you sure? I don’t like it. I know how important the pies are, Annie.”
“I appreciate it, but I’m okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“Alright. Love you, friend. Big hugs waiting when you get here. Ooh! Why don’t you make Nick pick you up so you can have a little too much wine? Or you can stay over? Your room’s still open!”
“Nick’s my client, not my designated driver, Kitty.”
“Your client whose face you’ve sat on.”
“Goodbye, love you!” I called, bringing the phone away from my ear and hanging up on her.
Nick stood in the doorway with an awkward grin. “I’d drive you.”
I threw my hand. “I can’t drink too much. I’ll have to call my family later. Let’s get cracking on these pies. I’m running out of time to get ready.”
Nick and I were playful in the kitchen. He was surprisingly good at some things, like peeling apples, and terrible at things like spice measurements. I showed him how to scallop the edges of the crust to make it look fancy.
“And here, check this out.” I took a spare edge of crust, sprinkled some sugar on the counter, and rubbed the uncooked crust in the sugar. I held it to his lips. “Taste.”
“What? I can’t eat raw dough,” he protested.
“There’s no egg. Live a little.”
He scrunched his nose, closing his eyes and extending his tongue the tiniest bit. I cackled as I put the sugared dough on his tongue, watching his reaction. “Okay, yeah, that’s good.”
“Would I lead you astray, Oberbeck? I always have your best interest in mind.”
We goofed off, flirting and having fun. When I bent to put the last pie in the oven, Nick stood behind me.
“How ‘bout a little sugar, sugar mama?” His hand trailed down my front.
“I need to shower and get ready,” I said. “I stink.”
He took a big inhale at my neck. “Smell good to me.”
“Stop,” I teased. “I’m absolutely rotten. And I don’t have much time.”
“Too bad,” he said. “I wanted to have a friendly little taste.”
“You’re ready for that, are you? It’s not exactly time-friendly.”
“I like a challenge,” Nick cooed.
