Before things could get too quiet, Coach announced the oil was ready and approached with a turkey dangling from a hook like a trapeze artist preparing for the worst bath of his life.
“Be careful, Dad,” my father said.
“I eat careful for breakfast,” Coach replied.
“It’s true,” Isak said, appearing from somewhere with Hayes right behind him. “It usually involves prunes. I’ve witnessed it firsthand.”
“This is statistically the number one cause of house fires on Thanksgiving,” Hayes noted.
“Way to bring down the mood, Hazey,” Isak said, raising his phone to film.
“Put the phone away,” I barked.
“That’s why you’re my favorite, Isak,” Coach announced, beginning the descent.
“Coach, you said the same thing to me this morning when I handed you the remote,” I pointed out.
“That was this morning, Declan. Times change. Everybody stand back.”
He lowered the turkey into the oil with the care of a man who had, in fact, done this before. A couple of small splatters. No fire brigade required.
Phew.
Once all three turkeys were safely enjoying their hot tub oil baths, we cracked open beers to celebrate, pumpkin ale for everyone but Isak, who worked through a root beer with considerable dignity, right up until Nana opened the back door and spotted us all standing around.
“I see able-bodied Kingmans just standing around when they could be washing dishes,” she said. “I wonder how hungry they are.”
“How does she know?” Isak whispered. “It’s like she has spies everywhere.”
“You have no idea, son,” Coach replied.
Several hoursand several thousand calories later, I was curled up on the couch with Kelsey tucked against my side.
“I’m glad I wore my Thanksgiving pants,” she said, rubbing her stomach. “Everything was so good.”
“I’m sorry you weren’t able to see your parents today,” I said into her hair.
“Honestly, it’s fine. We’ve never been huge on the holiday, the Christmas rush starts tomorrow and things get pretty intense at the store. I think this might have been the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had.”
“It’s definitely the best I’ve ever had.” I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Everything’s better when you’re here, babe.”
She looked up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes and I felt it again, that inconvenient, bone-deep certainty that had been building since the night I met her and showed absolutely no signs of letting up.
“This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” she whispered. Her eyes were shimmering.
“Me too,” I whispered back, and kissed the tears away before they could fall.
Damn it. I was a love-struck idiot and there was nothing to be done about it. “Don’t tell anyone that. As far as you know, I’m horrible and mean to everyone. Got it?”
She giggled and snuggled deeper into the crook of my arm. By the end of tonight, she’d have a whole new benchmark for happiness.
Gryff and Artie came into the room and stopped abruptly, planting themselves directly between us and the TV.
“Hey Artie,” Gryff said, his voice oddly stilted, like he’d rehearsed this twice and was still not feeling great about it. “Would you like to build a snowman?”
“Yes, Gryff.” Artie’s delivery was equally wooden. “I would like to come and play.”
They stared at us.
