I plop down on the sofa, gaze still firmly on Harper in the kitchen. “Hate to break it to you, Dad, but the Falcons aren’t going for the Super Bowl this year.”
Dad scowls. “Not with that attitude; they aren’t.”
“Will my optimism for them guarantee them a playoff spot?”
“We must manifest our own dreams, son.”
I chuckle softly. “I will think fondly of the Falcons.”
“Good.”
“So, about your blood sugar.”
If looks could kill, I’d surely be dead. Maybe that’s why Harper has no effect on me. I spent so much of my life on the other side of my father’s withering glare.
“I’ve got it under control,” Dad expertly promises.
“Really?”
Dad waves dismissively. “It’ll be fine. Give me grandkids soon, though, just in case. And I have some gold coins buried in the backyard underneath the azaleas.”
“Dad!”
“I’m just saying!”
“Am I interrupting?” Harper asks softly, gaze pinging between me and my father.
“No, son. Do you follow football?”
Harper plops down on the sofa beside me, easily tucking himself into the line of my side. “I know the hot quarterbacks.”
My father arches one single eyebrow. “Well, that is the important part. Did you play any sports as a kid?”
“I was sports averse.”
My father hums with curiosity, eyes sweeping over Harper. “Piano?”
Harper’s grin is wide. “Yes, sir.”
“And what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a data analyst.”
Dad laughs and slaps the sides of the recliner with barely contained joy. “Finally, someone who enjoys math. Harper, tell me, do you enjoy sudoku?”
And then I sit there for almost an hour as Harper and my father proceed to work on a sudoku book together. No amount of squeezing Harper’s thigh distracts him. Nothing. Finally, I give up with a kiss on his cheek and join my mother in the kitchen. She puts me to work helping with the sides, then finally lets mecarve the turkey. My reward for my hard work is getting to snack on the best parts of the bird while plating it for dinner.
Food covers every inch of the table once we all take a seat. I let my hand rest on Harper’s thigh, trying to calm the nervous shaking of his leg. Harper shoots me a grateful smile when I plate his food for him.
“Before we eat, let’s say what we’re thankful for today.” Dad looks towards Mom, a soft, gentle smile on his face. “I’m thankful for Mila as always and the amazing home she’s created. But I’m also thankful for NFL RedZone.”
Mom laughs and slaps him on the arm. “Idiot. I’m thankful for the small garden out back we planted this summer. I’m also thankful for Jackson and his boyfriend, Harper. It’s nice to have a full table.”
Harper blushes hard, keeping his gaze on his full plate. To help not embarrass him, I decide it’s my turn.
“I’m thankful for cupcakes,” I say confidently, earning a confused look from both my parents.
Harper bites his lip to keep from laughing. “That’s what I was going to say.”
