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My dad pouts, but my mom shoots him a death glare and points to the couch.
“I’m fine, really,” Natalie insists, looking to me for help.
I shrug like, Sorry, no can do. My mom has a mind of her own.
“Now let me get you that tea. Connor! See if she’s hungry. Where are your manners? Haven’t I taught you a damn thing?”
She swats me with the tea towel she has hanging over her shoulder and I dart away playfully, like I’m actually scared she’s going to hurt me.
Natalie watches me approach with a warm smile. I lean down on the armrest of the recliner and she lifts her chin, expecting a kiss. I deliver, but I cut myself off before I take it any deeper considering I can see my father out of the corner of my eye. “How was work?”
“Oh, you know how it goes,” she says with a teasing eye-roll. “Three different guys tried and failed to deep-fry a turkey and they all have the burns to prove it.”
I shake my head. “Wouldn’t be Thanksgiving otherwise.”
“It wasn’t all bad though. Some of the families brought in food for the staff. It was really sweet. I’ve already had two pieces of homemade pumpkin pie today.”
“So you’re not hungry? We were going to have dinner soon.”
She looks at me like I’m crazy. “Of course I’m hungry.”
I laugh and rise up off the chair as my mom walks back in with a mug of steaming tea.
“Let it steep for another minute or so.” Then she not-so-gently pushes me out of the way so she can sit on the arm of Natalie’s chair. “So, where did we leave off last night? Age five?”
“No, we were still on age four, right after he got those stitches on his arm.”
I groan. “Are you two serious?”
“Don’t listen to him!” Natalie insists, tugging my mom closer.
My mom has her phone out, pulling up her Google Photos app. Last year as a Christmas gift, my brothers and I spent way too long digitizing all our childhood photos for her so she’d have them on her phone. I didn’t think it would come back to bite me in the ass quite like this. My mom wants to show Natalie every single photo I’ve ever been in, and Natalie doesn’t mind one bit. She oohs and aahs over my baby pictures until I eventually just walk away and watch football with my dad.
“Have you thought at all about baby names?” is the last question I hear before I head back into the kitchen and see Noah grinning like a fool.
He raises his beer in my direction. “Didn’t think they’d get on so well?” he asks, nodding to the other room.
I laugh. “Oh no, I knew they would. My mom doesn’t believe in having enemies. She thinks the whole planet is filled with people just waiting to be her best friend, and most of the time, she’s right.”
“Natalie was worried about impressing her.”
The thought has me shaking my head. Natalie is nothing if not impressive. My mom thinks she’s the most wonderful woman she’s ever met. Last night, she told me, “I love how independent she is! That means you better not take her for granted for a single second, son. You hear me?”
I assured her I wouldn’t.
“How’s Natalie liking your place?” Noah asks.
“I think she’s settling in well. It’s only been a few days.”
Last Saturday, we moved all of Natalie’s things to my townhouse. It wasn’t much. All the furniture in the guest house stayed there since it technically belongs to Noah, and in total, she only had a few boxes of her clothing and personal items. We were done by the early afternoon. She’s helped me redecorate my place in recent weeks, ever since I brought her over to look at the nursery. I’ve never had a house full of adult furniture and it was time to upgrade some things, so I was glad Natalie got to have a hand in that. I did win in some areas. That big recliner she’s sitting on wasn’t her first choice, but she’s paired it with a fancy coffee table and couch and “poofs”, as she calls them. I just call them footrests, but what do I know?
The nursery is slowly coming together too. A framed abstract painting of the Boston Harbor, done by a local artist, now hangs over the crib, and there are a few clothes on tiny white hangers in the closet. They’re all gender-neutral because Natalie doesn’t want to know what we’re having. She said—and I quote—“The whole thing has been a surprise, so why stop now?!”Chapter Twenty-NineNatalieI can’t believe I have to work on Thanksgiving and Black Friday. Normally, I don’t care about all the deals and steals, but now, with the baby coming, I feel like there are so many gadgets and gismos we apparently need. God forbid I use a non-warmed wipe on my child’s delicate rear end! So yeah, I had plans to trek out to a few stores today. I still can, I suppose, but first I have to survive another day at work.
