“I’m not laughingatyou. I’m…appreciating the fact you’re taking this so seriously.”
“Listen, I made a checklist for everything I’ll need to do the rest of the week. I’m treating it like it’s a playoff game. Like, whatI should wear. What to say or not to say. Do I apologize, or is that disrespectful of Amy?”
“Just the fact you’re thinking like that is a mighty big compliment to your partner and her family.”
My partner.“Since Amy and I are back together, I want to do everything I can to smooth the way.” Then I hold a hand to my stomach. “How am I supposed to eat in front of two people who watched their daughter come home broken?”
“The same way you do each night—one forkful at a time.”
During the day Wednesday, I’m racing around. First stop is the local florist. I placed the order the day after Amy invited me and they didn’t disappoint. The bouquet is a glorious chrysanthemums, aster, and pansies mixed with autumn sage. The florist held them out like they were a baby. “Your girl’s lucky.”
“They’re for her mom.” Then panic washes over me. “God, I should get Amy something too. Is it too late?”
She grins before stepping over to where there’s a bucket of the same mix. “I had leftovers from what you ordered. Give me a few minutes and I can put something together.”
Once I’ve paid her and tipped her generously, I dash over to The Honeyed Hearth to pick up pastries for dessert. Trista hands me the box. “As requested.”
I check out the perfectly adorned box and ask, “You’re sure the Delgadina’s will like them?”
“Yes, Brennan. They’re huge fans of our honey cinnamon rugelach. Also, it’s something that can be eaten after dinner or just because you want a sweet bite with breakfast.”
“Good. Great. I don’t want to take over the meal. I just want to contribute.”
Trista leans forward and mutters, “If it were me heading to the Delgadina’s after everything that happened, I’d stock up on wine.”
“Thanks for the heads up.” I tip her for my order before making my way to Cedar Grocery to get a bottle of red and white.
That night, I hold Amy close after we made love. She murmurs, “It’s going to be a good day tomorrow,” into my chest before she drifts off to sleep. My heart pounds beneath her cheek both from the lovemaking and panic.
It’s a good thing she left early this morning to help her mother with the meal. I have time to get in the right mindset especially after Mark’s text.
Mark:
Hey buddy. Happy Thanksgiving.
I hesitate before replying. I don’t want to engage him, but I can’t help but recall the times he hosted me over holidays when I wasn’t playing.
Me:
Happy Thanksgiving.
My phone goes off repeatedly with his attempts to reframe what happened. By the time I pull up to her parents’ house, my hands stay clenched on the steering wheel. There’s more than just nerves behind it.
I take a moment to decompress and admire the Delgadina’s home. Enormous wrap-around porch with a swing where I can easily picture Amy as a teenager, chatting with her friends. What startles me is the Kings flag planted in the garden, slightly crooked from the wind.
I get out of the car, retrieving all my offerings. Just as I mount the porch steps, Amy opens the door.
“You made it,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that tells me this matters more than she wants to admit.
“I did,” I say. “I brought?—”
“I see,” she says, eyes flicking to the flowers, the pastry box, and the bags holding the wine. “You came prepared.”
I lower my voice. “Trying to win a few hearts.” Then I hold out the smaller bouquet. “These are for you.”
Her smile brightens all the corners of my heart. “You’re doing a good job so far. Come on in.”
Inside, the house smells like turkey and baking bread. Her mom steps away from kitchen preparations to greet me with a warm hug and a “Happy Thanksgiving.”
