“She’s busy,” I told him and then pretended not to notice when he blew out a breath of relief.
And she actually was busy. Thanksgiving was a surprisingly busy day at Misty’s. Every holiday was a good day for the establishment. Which was sad when you thought about it.
I’d only ever been to a few proper Thanksgiving meals and that was when Coco had invited me to her house. Her mom was Chilean though, so it had never been a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Her dad would smoke a turkey, but the side dishes were never American fare.
This year, Coco and Emilia were going with their parents to visit extended family and so I had been planning to binge Netflix with Max all day and heat up some frozen pot pies that we loved so much.
Obviously, the Cole family affair would be awkward as hell, but also maybe a decent option for us.
“Fine,” I told him, partly because he was right, about everything, and also because I was so freaking cold I couldn’t stand outside for a second longer.
“You have my number,” he accused. I nodded. “Text if you get lost.”
“It’s at your parents?”
“Yeah.”
“I remember how to get there.”
His expression twisted into a sneer. “Oh, yeah, did Logan show you the way?”
I swallowed through a fist-size lump. I deserved that. “You did,” I countered. “For the junior year hayride, campfire thing.”
His eyes flashed with the memory and for just a second, they softened into something that wasn’t totally hatred. But the bitterness came back in the next second, and he glared at me like he had at the end of that night—when I’d let Mercer take me home instead of him.
God, I’d been a brat back then.
Okay, maybe I was still a brat.
“Dinner’s at three,” he said, already stepping away from me.
“See you then,” I said to his back.
He didn’t turn around and all I got was a single wave of his upstretched hand.
I didn’t care though. I wasn’t even worried about his attitude or feelings for me or how I would ever recover from this, because tomorrow I had to face his parents and that was just about the worst thing I could think of.
Oh, god. What had I gotten myself into?
20
Turkey Noodle Soup for the Soul
Pulling up in front of the Cole farmhouse at two-forty-five in my sputtering Corolla, I felt the shadow of the charming white house with black shutters fall on my life. Max sat quietly in the backseat, absorbing their sprawling acreage, the gigantic house, the fancy trucks and big ass barns.
“My dad lived here?” he asked in a hushed tone.
I’d thought about waiting to explain everything until he was older and could better understand everything I needed to tell him. But, in the end, I’d decided I was done with secrets.
Levi’s invite to his parents Thanksgiving celebration was unwanted and I felt emotionally blackmailed into joining them. However, this was the bed I’d made and now it was time to lie in it.
After he surprise attacked me at Rosie’s the other day, I’d taken some serious time to consider the last seven years and the mistakes I’d made. This was not how I wanted the Coles to find out about Max.
Granted, I never wanted them to find out about Max.
But in my wildest imagination, I didn’t anticipate my mother blurting the news post-orgasm with Levi preparing to slide into home.
All the puns intended.
