I sit up straighter, fixing my hair so it lays flatter, but it’s hopeless. “Of course, sir.”
“Good.” He pats her leg. “She deserves the world. Take her horseback riding, she’s always liked that. Loves animals. And so good with them, too. You remember when you would get dropped off to visit me, chicken? You’d take my hand and wanted to see all the livestock.”
I nod, attention drifting to her bright red face. “She deserves everything. I won’t give her anything less.”
“You keep her happy.” He tips his head down to level me with a serious expression. “Otherwise, I’ve got a whole collection of hunting rifles on the farm.”
A surprised laugh punches out of me.
“Grandpa,” Maya protests. “Don’t say that.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll always treat her right,” I promise.
“Boys,” Mom calls from the other room. “Come help me. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“I’ve got to go,” I tell Maya reluctantly. “Text me?”
“Sure.” She gets up and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Bye.”
“See you soon,” I say.
She flashes a wry smile. “Okay,bye.”
The call ends. I sigh, running my fingers through my hair until my heart stops beating so hard.
“What’s that look on your face?” Asher asks.
“What look?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I dunno. Like happy, but weird.”
I swipe a hand over my mouth to hide my stupid smile. “I’m extra happy because we’re about to eat. Let’s go.”
We help Mom bring dishes to the table. She makes up a plate for Dad. It’s a tradition we keep at every holiday. I tense when she sets it next to her instead of where it should go.
She pulls out the seat at the head of the table. “Here, sweetheart.”
My chest constricts, making it difficult to breathe for a beat. I shake my head, straining to get the words out.
“No. That’s Dad’s spot.”
This started last year. I refuse to sit there every time she asks. The first time she pulled the chair out for me, a surge of grief welled up out of nowhere because I miss him.
It doesn’t feel right to sit where he always did.
She gives me a sad smile. “Okay. Wherever you want to sit is fine.”
“Smells so good.” Asher’s nose is almost in his potatoes. “Happy freaking Thanksgiving.”
I tousle his hair and sit down next to him. “You think you’re being sly with that.”
Mom reaches across the table for both our hands. We each clasp hers. “I love you, boys. I’m so glad we have another beautiful day together.”
“Love you too, Mom.” I squeeze her hand.
She squeezes mine back. “Let’s dig in. And for dessert, we have four kinds of pie.”
Asher echoes me, but he doesn’t get why we make it a point to say I love you. When Dad went out five years ago to get us ice cream during a snowstorm, he lost his life in a pile up on the highway. Losing him so suddenly, I learned how important it is to say goodbye since I never got the chance to say it to him.
