“But…but…”
“We wanted to surprise our big gay son!” Dad says. “Now, where’s that gay boyfriend of yours?”
“Dad,” I mutter with a whine. I thought my parents would stop embarrassing me as I got older, but each year, I’m mistaken.
“We’re all about pride!” Gramps says, still holding up the phone. “So, where is that beau of yours?”
“I think that’s him at the table,” Eartha chirps.
“Hi, Eartha,” I say with barely restrained irritation. “Why aren’t you here?”
“I’m with my husband,” she remarks. “Where’s your man?”
“Is that him over there?” Mom asks loudly.
“Mom,” I whine.
“Uh, hello,” Reed says, standing up. “I am…Reed.”
“Wow!” Dad says, looking up at him. “You’re the boyfriend, huh?”
“Yes, sir.” Reed, meanwhile, gazes at everyone with mild discomfort. I get it; they’re a lot to take in. I look like neither of my folks?they’re huskier than Eartha and me?but Gramps resembles me with gray hair.
“What…what brings you here?” I ask.
“We brought Thanksgiving to you!” Mom says. She rushes to Reed’s side and gives him a half-hug. “Hi, I’m Mama Dillinger! Are you having Thanksgiving with us?”
“What, where? We’re not going to Arizona!” I yelp. I glance at Karlo and RJ sitting at the table, and they stare at the scene in shock.
“Obviously. We’re having the holiday at your place! We’ll cook all the Dillinger favorites!” Dad says. He gives Reed a hard slap on the back. “Do you like marble cake, young man?”
“You’re all being too much. You haven’t even asked the gay boyfriend if he wants to come!” Gramps exclaims.
I freeze up, but my folks simply laugh.
“Of course.” Mom holds my boyfriend close, and I wish the ground would swallow me whole. “If you don’t have plans, honey, would you like to join us?”
Reed glances at me, and mentally I urge him to say no. I don’t need my folks’ huge personalities scaring him away when we haven’t been dating for more than a month. Time slows down as he gazes at Gramps, then Mom and Dad.
Reed gives a polite smile while Mom and Dad sandwich him. “No plans. I’d love to celebrate Thanksgiving with you all.”
CHAPTER 15- SKYLER
MY TINY ONE-BEDROOMapartment has been overrun by the Dillingers. With my folks on the stove and Gramps on the couch?my kitchen, dining area, and living room are all one long space?I don’t have room to breathe. Usually, I enjoy the scent of Thanksgiving foods, but not when your parents insist on taking over every surface in your apartment. Gramps is watching a dog show while chatting with my sister on his phone. Between that, the pots and pans, and my parents reading online recipes out loud, the noise level here makes a drag brunch sound like a convent.
The only thing that concerns me is making the place look presentable. That means scrubbing every surface as my family makes little food-related messes everywhere. My boyfriend?the guy I’m rapidly falling for?will be over any minute for Thanksgiving dinner.
I’m tying my green tie as I walk out of my room. Turning to my left, I notice a heap of dirty dishes. “Mom, I just cleaned the sink,” I say with a frown.
“We need space for the stuffing to cool,” Mom remarks.
“And for our famous Dillinger holiday marble cake,” Dad adds. “Speaking of which, you got a spare set of hands?use ’em.”
He thrusts the bowl at me, smearing chocolate on my black button- down. Fortunately, I intend on wearing a sweater over it; otherwise, I’d be pissed. “Now don’t stop stirring!” Dad says with a finger wag.
Okay, now I’m annoyed. My small but quiet personal space has been taken over, and I’m forced to do my parents’ bidding. I stir as Mom recites another recipe aloud, and I try not to glower at my folks. All of this hubbub is exactly why I never moved back to Arizona. I love my family from a distance.
I would be furious if I were in the presence of?
