“Basement. Thank God. We got them a new gaming system, and they’re like three zombies in front of that thing.”
“Should I go say hi?”
“No…stay and drink. When’s your star student coming?”
“Oh, I’m sure soon. She’s got some kind of clandestine friendship with my ‘hottie’—her word, not mine.”
“Oh, I’m sure she does. Now I see why you’re so gussied up.”
“Mary, I’m not competing with Abbie.”
“Never. You’re one of a kind, Claire Bear…about time you realized it.” She pinched my cheek before yanking open the oven and uncovering a green bean casserole.
The doorbell rang, and Abbie showed up, flowers in one hand, her cell phone in the other.
“Welcome, Abbie,” Mary declared, pulling her in for a hug. “I’d never want a student to be alone on the holiday. But you have to remember: What happens at Thanksgiving, stays at Thanksgiving.”
This got an eye roll from me.
“Okay, Dr. M. Hi, Professor Richards. Thanks for having me.”
“Anytime,” Mary added.
“Where’s your hottie?” Abbie whispered to me, looking around the house, taking in its vaulted ceiling.
“See?” I mouthed to Mary.
“Come on, Abbie. Let me show you the kitchen.” Mary took the lead.
Which was what she did all night, deflecting weird comments from Patrick and making sure Abbie didn’t get too cozy with my hottie.
I didn’t have to worry about Abbie getting close to Aiken. It was clear at dinner that there was something else at play. Every so often, I’d catch Aiken giving her a strange look, as if she were a computer code with a virus. I’d seen that same look when I’d watched him trying to fix a corrupt website. His mouth was straight, not turned up in its usual sexy smirk. His eyes narrowed, straining. His forehead scrunched in thought.
After my third glass of wine, I chalked it up to the run-in with Allison.
My mind wandered despite my heart remaining firm in its affection for Aiken.
I’m sure it was her making him meet Allison alone.
“Abbie, what dorm are you in?” Mary distracted me from my runaway thoughts.
“Pollock.”
“That’s the best location.”
“Yep. I think because I’m a local, I got some preferential treatment.”
“Could be.”
“That’s one thing I’m glad I skipped,” Aiken added. “Dorm life. After living on a farm, I could never stick myself in a small cubicle.”
“It’s amazing what college kids will do for a little slice of freedom,” I noted.
Abbie laughed.
Peter asked, “What do you mean?” and Mary quickly changed the subject.
The rest of the evening went smoothly with more wine and pie.
By the time we got home, I’d forgotten any harsh feelings toward Aiken or ill will toward Abbie. My belly was full and my heart warm. I didn’t care anymore about stupid semantics. I’d ached for so long, yearned for a family to call my own, that I couldn’t help but believe tonight was as good as it got.
