“Hi,” I said on an exhale. I tried to smile, but it more than likely came out as a grimace. “I have food in the car. Oh, and happy Thanksgiving.”
“Let’s go get the food,” he said, smiling warmly, as if he understood I was halfway to basket-case state.
He took the gifts for Addie and his dad, set them on an entry table, and followed me out. He came up beside me on the walkway, wound his arm around my waist, pulling me to his side in an awkward, moving side hug as we headed to my car to get the food.
I started babbling about the pie and how I wasn’t sure if it was okay and that I had whipped cream just in case and was his dad going to hate me.
“Mags,” he said as we reached the passenger door. He pressed a kiss to my temple. “My family is happy you’re joining us. They’re going to love you.”
Possibly a lie to make me feel better, but I grasped onto it.
“I”—I opened the door, bent in, retrieved the casserole and handed it to him, then picked up the pie—“don’t know the first thing about family dinners. With a real family, I mean.”
A frown flitted over his features so fast I almost didn’t see it. “I suspect they’re a lot easier than family dinners with assholes.”
I laughed in spite of myself and felt some of my tension fade.
“Addie’s excited to meet you,” he said. “My dad is a crusty old farmer with a soft spot for his granddaughter.”
“Does he like chocolate?”
“Does it have sugar in it?”
I took that to be a rhetorical question and followed Luke inside, nervousness inching up again.
We went through a dining room into the kitchen, which smelled like an incredible Thanksgiving dinner.
“You’re the sole cook?” I asked.
“Giving my dad a break from the kitchen. He’s great at the day-to-day stuff, but holiday dinners have been my responsibility since my mom died. Before that, actually, because she stopped cooking several years earlier.”
“Well, it smells like you know what you’re doing.” I couldn’t hide my surprise that this hardworking, rough-handed farmer could create such heavenly aromas in the kitchen.
“Born of necessity,” he said as he set the corn casserole on the counter and took the pie from me. “Our family might be nontraditional these days, but I like to make holidays as normal as possible for Addie.”
As if she’d heard her name, a little girl with a brown braid down her back came into the room. “Daddy, are we eating soon?”
“The turkey has to cook for a while yet, doodle. But…” Luke opened the refrigerator and took out a store-bought tray of cheeses and sausages. “Wash your hands, and I’ll get the crackers.”
Addie shot a curious smile my way before she darted out of the room.
“I’ll introduce you when she gets back,” he said to me.
“Where did she go?”
“To wash in the bathroom. There’s a stool so she can reach.”
I heard a deep, quiet voice in the other room and guessed it was Mr. Durham, which served to pump up my nerves again and remind me their gifts were still by the front door.
“Come meet my dad,” Luke said nonchalantly, as if I hadn’t worried about that from the moment I’d accepted his invitation.
I nodded and forced a smile. “I’ll get his gift.”
I went back to grab both gift bags. Luke watched me return to the kitchen from the entry, extending his arm. We walked through the dining room into the living room, where his dad sat in a recliner and Addie sneaked in behind us, looking curious but shy.
“Dad, meet Magnolia. Magnolia, my dad, Dale.”
I went over to the recliner and offered my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Durham.”
