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“Yeah,” I mutter under my breath. “It would be nice if he didn’t.”
She lets out a breath of laughter. “That’s why I called you over here. I think Matt was right about his brother being a douche.”
I mouth, “Thank you,” and she smiles.
“Are we gossiping or cooking?” says a voice behind us, and we both jump at the sound of it.
“What?” Rae asks with wide eyes as we stare back at Matt’s grandma.
The woman’s sharp, hawk-like eyes scan over the scene, and I kick myself for being empty-handed. She lifts a brow and repeats her question. “Gossiping or cooking?”
“Gossiping,” I say with a nod as I make sure to stand up straight. I’m not the one potentially marrying into this family one day. It doesn’t matter if she disapproves of me.
Rae bursts into laughter next to me, but Matt’s grandma just stares long enough to make me sweat. Eventually, a slow smile creeps across her lips, and I allow myself to exhale.
“Good,” she says with a wink. “And just so you know, Matt is right.” Her eyes flicker to Emmet. “He kind of is.”
Rae and I burst into laughter, not bothering to be quiet about it. On the brink of tears, I wipe my eyes. I look around to scan for Emmet, hoping he didn’t hear that he was the brunt of Grandma’s joke. Before I spot him, my eyes snag on Jackson watching me with his head tilted. He’s still between Matt and his dad, and I can’t help wondering if he’s been watching me this whole time.
I swallow at the thought.
“Did she just call her grandson a douche?” Rae asks in my ear, making sure to keep her voice low.
Letting out a laugh, I make a point to look away from Jackson as I say, “I think she did.”
“Hey,” Rae says, bumping me with her shoulder. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight since Jackson is here now?”
Oh, right. I hadn’t thought of what Jackson being here meant for our sleeping arrangements. “No,” I say with a shake of my head. “I still think you should stay with Matt.” Rae and Matt may have time together when they go out to eat, but they rarely have a room to themselves.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You do know that means you’ll be staying with Jackson, right?”
I look at the guy across the room, relieved to see he’s finally joined in on whatever the guys are talking about. “Maybe he’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Maybe . . .” She doesn’t sound convinced, though.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say with a smile. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah, okay,” she answers, but there’s still a sense of apprehension in her voice as she looks from Jackson to me. “We’ll have to ask him about it.”
I nod, and I can only imagine how Jackson will react.
The smell of sweet potatoes and turkey wafts through the house. This is what Thanksgiving should be like. Growing up, it was only ever the three of us, and my parents never wanted to fuss. They saw cooking an elaborate meal for two adults and a child as being illogical, but I always craved this. Any time I’d watch movies with Thanksgiving scenes showing large families and chaos, it made me hate the quiet of my parents’ home.
When it comes time to eat, there are two seats for me to choose from—one next to Emmet and the other next to Jackson. I pause at the head of the table for a split second, unsure which side to take. Emmet gives me a flash of white teeth, and Jackson leans his elbows on the table, his hands clasped in front of his mouth to hide his smirk. My knees lock like a deer on a dark road as blinding headlights round the bend. Jackson lets out a breath of laughter and moves to fold his napkin on his lap, pulling me from my petrified state. Before I even consciously make a decision, my feet carry me to the seat next to Jackson like my body knows which is the lesser of two evils.
I instantly regret my decision when he knowingly says, “Hey, Red,” with a trace of laughter still in his voice.
“Is something funny?” I ask, my eyes narrowing.
He shrugs innocently. “You tell me.”
Opening my napkin and setting it on my lap, I shake my head. “No. Nothing is funny.”
He leans toward me, keeping his voice low so only I can hear him, and my entire body tenses, keenly aware of the fact that our arms are almost touching. “Who knew all it took was a day with Emmet for me to rise in the ranks.”
I give him a pitying frown. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. If anything, you two are even.”
“Even?” He shakes his head. “No.” Subtly pointing his fork at Emmet, he adds, “I’m at least three slots above that guy. I have to be. You sat here for a reason.”
