I cast a look inside as he shouts at the screen.
“He’s not looking great.” His usual clean-shaven face has been replaced by patchy stubble and there’s dark circles underneath his eyes.
“He’s got a lot on his mind, son.”
My mom leaves her statement hanging in the air as she gets up and heads into the lounge to join the others.
What does she mean,A lot on his mind?
Christopher is still holding the bigger half of the wishbone I’d picked up a few days ago, waving it round like a prized possession. A gleeful look spreads across his face. It’s the same one Harrison has whenever he beats me at something, knowing how much I hate to lose.
The family are all sitting round the table, ready to start eating Thanksgiving dinner.
I put on a smile and fight back my true feelings.
I was robbed.
The spread looks incredible when I take it all in. The honey-glazed turkey. The four different types of stuffing. The collard greens, sweet potatoes, cornbread, and more, all smelling absolutely delectable.
“Uh-uh.” My mom waves her finger at Harrison, who’s already begun helping himself to the mashed potatoes. “Notbefore we each say what we’re grateful for. Christopher, why don’t you start us off?”
My mom’s gaze turns to him as Harrison puts the bowl down.
Christopher’s face is like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Erm. I’m. Erm,” Christopher stutters as he fiddles with his napkin. “I’m grateful to you all for having me here today, and to the doctors and nurses at the hospital for looking after Andrew.”
He quickly reaches for his drink and takes two big gulps.
I place my hand on his leg and squeeze it tightly.
It’s okay, you’re okay, I say with my eyes.
“I’m grateful for you all coming here to celebrate Thanksgiving. To Valentina for preparing this wonderful food. And to each of you for putting up with everything these past few months. And to you both for being the best parents a son could ever ask for.”
I reach for my glass and raise a toast as my parents share a brief uncomfortable look, their mouths both hard-set, before my mom turns to watch a butterfly flutter into the room.
What the hell is going on between those two?
The tension in the air could be cut with a bread knife.
“Harrison?” I ask, wanting to move things along quickly.
“I’m grateful to be moving to LA in January.” He smiles widely.
“No way. Did you get the job?” My response is a little too enthusiastic.
I already know the answer. I’d pulled in a favor with my agent to put in a good word with the production company Harrison had applied to. But I made sure there was no way my brother would find out I had a hand in it or that he’d be accused of nepotism.
“Yes, they let me know yesterday… I’m also grateful for a brother who’ll let me live with him when I move down here.” His brows arch.
“That sounds like a great way for you two to bond again,” my mom interjects as I start to speak.
Ugh.
Will she ever stop interfering in my personal business?
I swallow down my frustration, and when that doesn’t help, I reach for my drink and take a gulp, then another.
