Telling her almost felt like he was betraying Kit’s trust, but Gina cared about him too. “That he feels like he doesn’t have me anymore.”
“Ohhh.” Nodding, she bit her lip, and took a seat beside him. “I get it. Kit thinks you’re abandoning him.”
“But I’m not.”
And he never would. They’d been inseparable since they both could walk, so how could he ever think that?
“No, but you’re not available as much as you used to be, either.”
Stroking her hair, Matt pressed a kiss to Gina’s forehead. “Well, I have you to think about.”
“Exactly.”
“Are you saying Kit’s jealous?”Ridiculous. “Of us?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but see, your dynamic has shifted because of me.” Gina had a valid point. “He’s going to need some time to adjust.”
“Yeah, that explains it.”
It makes sense, doesn’t it? Course, it does.
“Explains what?”
“My boy thinks he wants me to fuck him.” It sounded more absurd saying the words out loud. “He really doesn’t, though. Kit’s just feeling some kind of way, like you said.”
“You sure about that?” Rubbing the back of her neck, Gina wet her lips. “I saw—”
“I think he was licking you as much as he was me.”
“Positive.”
Only he wasn’t.
Bundled up in thick, furry blankets, they cuddled together on the outdoor bed, watching the snow fall. In the shelter of his arms, Gina reclined against his chest, while Matt let his fingers slip through her hair, and fondly remembered all the Thanksgivings that came before this one.
The childhood years at his grandmother’s table, when he’d run up to Kit’s after turkey for a slice of his mom’s pumpkin pie. She’d hand them the can of whipped cream, because they insisted they could do it themselves. They covered the pie, the plate, their hair, and their faces in it, but she never got mad. She’d just laugh, clean them up, and send them outside to play street hockey or dodgeball with Bo and Brendan, Jesse and Dillon, and Sloan. Kyan would watch from his porch, pouting, because, four years younger than they were, he was still too little to join them.
Those years on the road, cramped inside that old, beat-up Chevy van. Back then, Thanksgiving was a turkey sandwich at a gas station, and sometimes Denny’s, if they were fortunate enough to be near one.Good times. Sure, they missed the comforts of home; even so, they had each other.
Matt kissed the top of Gina’s head, and, rubbing his nose in her fragrant hair, he smiled.
She glanced up and kissed his chin. “You all take turns hosting Thanksgiving. How’d that come about?”
“I’m not sure. Brendan and Katie did the first one. Wait.”That’s not right. He closed his eyes, pulling the memory from his head. “No, I take that back. It was Linnea’s old place on Oak Street. She and Kyan weren’t married yet. That was the day Dillon got us the deal on Park Place. Brendan had Thanksgiving the following year, and Chloe the one after that.”
“Then Kit?” Gina giggled.
“You got it,” Matt said, twirling her hair around his finger. “Around the block in a circle.”
He watched her count on her fingers. “What are you doing?”
“That means in three years it’s our turn.”
That’s right, bunny.
Matt had the ring in his pocket. After stuffing tubes of pasta with ricotta to take to her mother’s and Sloan’s—yes, they’d be eating twice this year—he was waiting for just the right moment to give it to her.
Okay, and thinking of the right words, too.
