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But...just so you know, if you hurt Clover, I will honor the bonds of sisterhood over childhood and set your truck on fire.
I’m canceling your cell phone, he wrote back, and then took his own advice and switched the phone off. But not before Ruthie sent him one final message. Just the word No in all caps with approximately seven thousand o’s. Some days it was good to be the dad.
* * *
WITH ERICK’S HELP, Clover survived the grocery shopping trip. It was busy but not packed when they arrived and they were able to buy everything Erick said they needed before the real crowds turned up. Erick had picked up all his grilling stuff from his house and brought it over to hers, setting it up on the deck he’d repaired on Monday.
He looked right standing on her deck, setting up his Big Green Egg and waving at her when he caught her looking. He looked right on her deck, right in her house, right in her life. She hoped her family would see him the way she did. He was a good man, a good father and a good person with a big heart. It was so obvious how great he was, and yet Clover couldn’t shake the feeling that tomorrow was going to be a disaster. Her family didn’t say what they meant like Ruthie and Erick did. They spoke in a sort of code that disguised insults as compliments and questions as disapproval. Her mother had mastered the art of smiling and asking, “You’re wearing that?” in such a way that those three words conveyed better than a billboard the message, “You aren’t wearing that, ever, not if I have anything to do with it and it’s your funeral if you do because you’ll be dead to me.” It was actually pretty impressive how much subtext her parents and her siblings could fit into so few words.
She couldn’t think about that now. She thought about salad instead as she made a grape-and-walnut salad from a recipe she’d found on the internet. Erick had made a list of all the Thanksgiving basics and he’d promised to help her make them. Except for the brownies for dessert. Those she could make with her eyes closed. Her nieces and nephews would be thrilled to have Aunt Clover’s brownies and ice cream for dessert while everyone else ate pumpkin pie. She’d never made a pumpkin pie before but Erick swore to her it was easy as, well, pie. He’d made them every year for Ruthie’s school’s fall festival since it was Ruthie’s favorite dessert. Another thing to love about Erick—he was a great dad to Ruthie. Maybe other men wouldn’t be comfortable raising a girl on their own, learning to bake pies for school events and going to PTA meetings, but Erick didn’t seem to mind. He’d said he hated the term Mr. Mom because it implied that fathers who cooked and cleaned and helped with homework were exceptions instead of what they should be—the rule. She comforted herself with the knowledge that Erick had survived raising a complicated and difficult child with a penchant for arson all on his own and had come out on the other side with a healthy sense of humor and a daughter who’d put her pyromaniac ways behind her. If anyone could survive running the gauntlet of her family on Thanksgiving it was Erick.
The only question was...would she survive running the gauntlet of her family?
She was going to need a whole lot more lavender wipes.
Erick kicked her out of the kitchen around three in the afternoon with orders to rest. She didn’t take orders well but she did stay out from underfoot by vacuuming, dusting and putting the extra leaves in the table to accommodate the whole family minus the kids who would eat either on the deck if the weather was nice or in the living room if it wasn’t.
When everything was finished, they went out for Thai food for dinner and came home to her house, ready for bed by nine. Not for sleep, but definitely for bed. After Erick had worn her out with some vigorous sex, they settled into sleep. Very quickly, she’d gotten used to falling asleep with Erick’s arm draped over her side and waking up with him next to her. She wanted to fall asleep like that, wake up like that, every day and every night. He’d told her today that Ruthie was “stupid happy” they were together, which made Clover “stupid happy.” Now if they could only convince her family they, too, should be happy for them instead of digging and picking and looking for something to dislike about Erick.
“You’re stressing out again,” Erick said into her ear. “I can tell.”
“How can you tell?” she asked.
“You’re huffing a lavender wipe like it’s an oxygen mask and your plane just lost cabin pressure.”
“I hate that my family does this to me,” she said. “I wish I could enjoy having them around instead of panicking about what they’ll say to you.”
“What’s the worst that could happen? They hate me?”
“Yes. And that is the worst. Because I love you.”
“I’m not sleeping with your parents or your sister or your brother. I mean, I might, but I’d like to get to know them first.”
She slapped his hand.
“Fine. I won’t sleep with any members of your family,” he said. “My point is...if they hate me, who cares? As long as you like me, that’s all that matters. You do like me, don’t you?”
He slid on top of her.
“I kind of like you,” she said. “A little.”
“Are you sure you only like me a little?” He pushed her thighs open with his knees.
“I’m warming up to you.”
“Maybe you even love me a tiny bit?” He settled on top of her with his cock only an inch or two inside her. She lifted her hips to take all of him into her.
“Maybe a little...”
Erick made love to her until she admitted once again that she did, in fact, love him. Worn out with sex, she fell fast asleep, distracted by her happiness. She woke up the next morning rested and refreshed from a good night’s sleep. She dressed in jeans and her favorite navy blue turtleneck. Erick wore his khaki cords and her favorite long-sleeved navy blue sweater of his, the one that accentuated the broadness of his shoulders so well. They spent all morning in the kitchen mashing potatoes, stirring cranberry sauce and baking bread.
At one o’clock on the dot, Clover heard the sound of a car on her gravel driveway. Her stomach sank and her throat tightened. Erick bent and gave her one last kiss for luck.
“Here we go,” she said.
“It’s going to be fine,” he said. “No scenes. No drama. And nobody is going to be mean to either of us.”
The doorbell rang and Clover took a deep breath, put on her best fake smile and opened the door.
