“Happy Thanksgiving, you hermit,” Lisa said by way of greeting.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Maggie replied.
“Please tell me you’re not spending today alone in that apartment.”
“I’m fine, Lisa.”
“That’s not what I asked. Come to my place. We’re doing friendsgiving. Starts at two.”
“I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can. I know Evie’s out of town because she told me when I ran into her at the hospital last week. So unless you have other plans, you’re coming here.”
Maggie felt something loosen in her chest. “You don’t have to?—”
“I’m not asking,” Lisa said. “I’m telling. Two PM. Bring wine. A decent wine. And don’t be late.”
She hung up before Maggie could argue.
At 1:45 PM, Maggie stood outside a brownstone in Echo Park with a bottle of expensive Pinot Noir, second-guessing everything.
But she knocked.
Lisa opened the door, took one look at her, and pulled her into a hug.
“So glad you made it,” Lisa said quietly.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Maggie replied.
Inside, the apartment was warm and loud—a dozen people Maggie didn’t know, all laughing and talking over each other, the kitchen full of food that smelled incredible. Lisa introduced her around, and if anyone recognized Maggie’s name or made theconnection to the hospital suspension, they were kind enough not to mention it.
Maggie found herself on the couch with a plate of food, wedged between two of Lisa’s friends who were arguing passionately about whether Die Hard was a Christmas movie.
Her phone buzzed.
Evie:How are you holding up?
Maggie snapped a quick photo of the crowded living room and sent it.
Lisa staged an intervention. I’m at friendsgiving.
Oh thank god. I was worried about you being alone.
I’m okay. How’s Sacramento?
Loud. My mom won’t stop asking about you. I may have shown her a photo.
Evie.
What? She asked! And now she’s in love with you. Says you have “kind eyes.” Whatever that means.
Maggie smiled, something warm spreading through her chest.
Tell her thank you.
I will. Gotta go—we’re about to eat. Love you.
Love you too.
