When the pie was finally in the oven, we stood back to admire our questionable creation.
“Do you think it’s edible?” she asked.
“I think we should bring wine, just in case,” I said.
“Always a good plan,” Meredith agreed, grabbing a rag to wipe the counters. “Now, go upstairs and find something fabulous to wear. You can’t mope in sweatpants, Nat. Not today.”
“Fabulous is asking a lot,” I said, dragging myself toward the stairs.
“Fine,” she called after me. “Wear something mediocre, but make it work!”
I stood in my closet, staring at rows of clothes that didn’t feel right. All I wanted to wear were sweats. Finally, I settled on a black sweater, a plaid skort, and thigh-high black boots. I added some makeup, hoping it would mask the exhaustion etched into my face.
When I came back downstairs, Meredith was already waiting, dressed in a silky blouse and vegan leather leggings that made her legs look miles long. She’d paired the outfit with black Valentino booties, effortlessly chic as always.
“You look great,” she said, giving me an approving once-over.
“I’m not wearing my fat pants today, so I guess that’s an upgrade. You look incredible,” I said, smirking. “That chef’s going to want to eat you up.”
She gave a casual shrug, getting dressed to impress was second nature to Meredith.
The soft ping-ping sound of a Facetime call came through, with Jason’s name lighting up the screen. It had to be James and Bebe.
I slidAcceptand brought the phone up, angling it toward my face.
“Mommy! Happy Thanksgiving!” James’s face filled the screen, his grin wide and bright. “We’re making food with Nona!”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said, smiling despite the ache in my chest. “I miss you so much.”
“I miss you more,” James replied, his little voice sounding so sweet.
Bebe appeared next, bounding into the frame in the sweater and skirt I’d picked out for her. “Hi, Mommy! Look at my earrings!” she said, showing off tiny Mickey Mouse studs. “We went to Disneyland yesterday, and Nona let us pick out something special!”
“They’re beautiful,” I said, my voice catching.
From somewhere off-screen, I heard my ex-mother-in-law’s muffled voice, likely making a snide remark under her breath. I had ruined her perfect boy’s picture-perfect life.
Before I could dwell on it, the doorbell buzzed on their end.
“Oh, Mommy! That’s Daddy’s special friend Brooke,” Bebe announced excitedly.
My stomach dropped. Meredith, sensing my reaction, snatched the phone from my hand. “Hi, Bebe! We love you so much. Call us tomorrow, okay? Happy Thanksgiving!” she said brightly before ending the call.
I stared at her, stunned. “Mer?—”
“That was too close,” she said firmly. “I can’t have you spiraling today.”
“Thanks for looking out,” I mumbled, still processing what had just happened.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing the pie and handing me the wine. “We’ve got a Thanksgiving to attend.”
Meredith drove us up into the hills, the road winding steeply as we approached Lucas’ house. It was a refurbished 1970s home, modernized with sleek lines and large windows. When we walked up, Lucas greeted us at the door, looking nice in a charcoal gray sweater and light pants, his glasses adding a polished touch.
“Ah, here you are,” he said in his smooth British accent, holding the door open. “Do come in to our very first American Thanksgiving.”
The house smelled amazing, the aroma of rosemary, thyme, and roasted vegetables wafted from the kitchen. The dining room was beautifully set, with candles flickering and a centerpiece of fresh greenery.
“Would you like a drink?” Lucas asked, his voice smooth and welcoming. “Wine? Or perhaps something stronger?”
