Wesley’s hand tightens where it grips my arm, as if he’strying to convey his understanding. “Perks of being an adult,Buttercup. Here, sit down. It’s time to get therealThanksgiving partystarted.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I expect to stayoutside only long enough to eat a few s’mores and pass around thewine. Before long, it’s evident Wesley meant what he said: the realparty is now out here. I know it’s serious when he goes to his carto get a wireless speaker to connect to his phone.
“DJ Wesin the house,” I say in my best announcer voice as he cues up aplaylist. To Stella, I add, “How often do you get a private showfrom an actual DJ?”
Stella makes anon-committal sound, her narrowed gaze trained on her brotheracross the firepit. Throughout the evening, the two of them havebeen giving each other the stink eye and having conversations inheated whispers. It reminds me of how they used to fight over themost trivial, juvenile things when we were younger. Nobody knew howto push each other’s buttons quite like the McGrath siblings did. Irarely fought with either of them and ordered them to leave me outof their spats since being friends with both of them made ituncomfortable for me.
I cast a glancearound our little circle. My gaze snags on Louisa and Fergus, and Ismile at the sound of Lulu’s laughter. I can hear the low rumble ofFergus’s voice, although not what he’s saying as he appears to tellLouisa a story, his hands gesticulating as he speaks. He leanscloser to Louisa, lowering his voice, and she laughs again, tiltingher head back in delight. The sight warms me from head totoe.
Louisa hasn’t hadan easy life; events in her teen years left her with severe anxietythat she still struggles with to this day. She’s usually painfullyshy around new people, especially men. She seems mostly at easewith Fergus, though. Not completely—her hands are clasped tightlyin her lap, which is one of her tells to the people who know herwell—but her smile and eyes are bright, and her laughter isgenuine.
A cool gust ofwind makes the flames in the firepit dance. Louisa shiversnoticeably, and Fergus offers her his jacket. Is it possible I’mwatching a blossoming romance right before my eyes?
I pull my ownjacket around me tighter and hop up from my seat. “I’ll run insideand grab the blankets my mom keeps for outdoor use.”
“I’llgo with you,” Wesley offers.
Beside me, Stellajumps to her feet. “Actually, Wes, can I talk to you for aminute?”
I witness a briefstaredown between the siblings before Wesley sighs and nods hishead once.
“It’sfine, I can manage.” Part of me wants to ask if I should stickaround to referee whatever’s going on between them, but I didn’twant that role as a kid and I certainly don’t want it now. I headinside to the laundry room where Mom keeps the blankets in one ofmany neatly organized and labeled totes. The house is quieter thanit was when we went outside, which must mean guests have startedleaving. I keep expecting Mom to appear in the backyard and insistI return inside to say goodbye to people or stand by as shecontinues to play matchmaker.
With that thoughtin mind, I pick up my pace. The kitchen is now empty of staff, andthe surfaces have been returned to their former gleamingspotlessness. Talk about efficient. I’m contemplating asking Momfor a referral when someone steps into the room, making me jump andclutch the stack of blankets to my chest.
“Onlyme,” my dad says with a chuckle. “You look like I caught you doingsomething you shouldn’t be.”
I give him a wrysmile. “I was afraid if Mom saw me she’d redouble her matchmakingefforts. Is Ned still here?”
“He is.He asked me a few minutes ago if I knew where you’d run offto.”
“Welp,that’s my cue to leave.” I inch toward the door, making Dad laughquietly again.
He crosses theroom, stopping in front of me. Up close, I can see the weariness inhis eyes and the slightly hunched set of his shoulders. He’s usedto late nights with his job—Mom has often told me how many nightshe spends tucked away in his office, working on a case—but for him,socializing is draining in its own way. “Do you ever get tired ofall this, Dad? The parties, the schmoozing…the excess.”
He ponders myquestion for longer than I expected. Finally, he says, “More thanyou know, Evie.” He looks guilty as soon as the words are out, asif he somehow betrayed Mom with his admission. “It makes your momhappy, so it’s worth it. Did you know she makes a large, anonymousdonation to the food bank where Hollie works every Thanksgiving andagain at Christmas?”
“Ididn’t. She does it anonymously?”
Dad nods. “Youshould give her more credit, Ev. Not everything she does is forshow or recognition. She’s always believed in the importance of ussharing our wealth. It’s something I’m glad to see you’ve inheritedfrom her.”
I’m not sure howto respond to that. Dad seems to understand because he simply nodsagain and goes to open a cupboard near the fridge. He returns asecond later with a bottle of Jameson, which he carefully lies onits side on top of my pile of blankets.
“You’dbetter hurry, kiddo. Mom was on her way in here when I last sawher.” He opens the back door for me. “There’s no time to get you asmany glasses as you’d need, so don’t let her see you drinking fromthe bottle.”
I kiss his cheekas I slip past him. “Thanks, Dad.”
Back outside, Ionly make it a few steps before I hear voices coming from the sideof the house. I squint toward the firepit; the only people missingare Wesley and Stella. They must still be arguing about whatever itis that’s had them giving each other dirty looks allnight.
I take anotherstep, pausing when Stella’s voice lifts and she says, “Stay awayfrom her, Wes.”
I should keepwalking. This is none of my business, and I’ve already promisedmyself I wouldn’t get involved. But…my curiosity is piqued. Which‘her’ is Stella referring to?
“That’skind of hard to do, considering we’re at her parents’ house. Oh,and she’s one of my best friends.” Wesley’s tone is casual,borderline flippant. The fact they’re talking about me has my feetrooted to the ground, even though IknowI should keepwalking.
“Youknow what I mean. If you hurt her, I’ll…I’ll…”
