I walk her to the passenger side of the Tundra just as the back doors slam shut. We have about three seconds of semi-privacy. I reach for the door handle before she can and stop.
“You look great,” I say. And she does. Under her denim jacket, she’s wearing a hunter green blouse that sets off her fiery hair and the vivid blue of her eyes. And I’m going to have a hard time keeping my eyes off those jeans today.
Millie looks great in scrubs. She looks great in anything. But scrubs don’t do her hips and thighs justice like these jeans.
“Thank you.” For all her stubbornness and spirit, Millie can’t take a compliment without blushing. That goes with the hunter green too. “So do you.”
The way her gaze sweeps over me, I realize she has never seen me cleaned up. Millie doesn’t say more, but I pick up plenty when she swallows and takes a second look.
“You ready?” I ask.
Ooph.Wrong question. That just killed the mood. Worried eyes meet mine. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”
Actually, I can’t believe it either. It took some convincing, and not just from me. The rest of the Delacroix clan had to mount a pretty solid offensive with specific avenues of attack.We’ll get to be with Luc!(Emmett’s). There will be kids there our age!(Mattie’s).Mexican food!(Harry’s). I’m not sure if they ever really convinced her or just wore her down, but out of all the many things I’m thankful for, the fact that they did is what I’m celebrating today.
“It’ll be fine,” I promise. “It’ll be fun.”
It’ll be a zoo, but I haven’t mentioned that yet.
I open the truck’s door before she can change her mind, help her in, and hand back the flowers.
* * *
I was wrong.
It isn’t a zoo. It’s a circus. With at least one sideshow in every room of my parents’ house. Papi and Uncle Raul are singing“Cielito Lindo”for Abuela, who sits in her glider, rowing back and forth to their serenade. As always, her glider is camped in front of the TV, which is tuned to NBC'scoverage of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. The TV’s volume is somewhere between obnoxious and ear-splitting.
My cousin Felicité’s two boys, Isaac and Ian, ages six and five respectively, fight on the sofa over what looks like pieces of a Happy Meal toy. I lead the Delacroixes past the serenade and the scuffle into the buzzing hive of the kitchen, where Mami, Aunt Lucinda, and all four of my cousins are talking over each other, stirring, tasting, grating, and basting. As soon as we walk in, Mami’s hands shoot up like she’s doing the wave. She rushes over, pushing Aunt Lucinda—who’s filling circles of dough with pumpkin puree—out of the way.
“¡Bienvenidos!Welcome! Welcome!” she shouts, wiping her hands on her apron. She opens her arms, aiming to hug Millie, who looks terrified. But to my surprise, Millie hands me the flowers and—instead of bolting for the door—leans in, stepping into Mami’s embrace, the back half of her torso disappearing behind my mother’s bingo wings, the front lost in Mami’s ample bosom.
“You must be Millie,” Mami says into her hair. “Luca has told us so much about you.”
I groan, but with all the noise in here, no one else can hear it. I’ve mentioned Millie to Mami exactly three times. Granted, yesterday morning’s conversation about her and the kids was the most detailed, but I don’t need Millie to think I’m more obsessed with her than I am.
She knows enough already.
Drawing back, Millie shoots me a surprised look. “He has?” I can tell what she’s thinking, and I hope she can read my expression just as clearly.
No, boba. Nothing about underwear or kissing or sleeping in your bed. Or about how I can’t stop thinking about you either. But she might have guessed that one already.
Mami still grips Millie’s elbows, keeping her close. “All good,Dr.Delacroix. Very impressive for someone so young,” she adds conspiratorially. I hold my breath. I told Mami about the family’s situation, but I made her promise on her rosary she wouldn’t bring it up.
“I’m Inez Valencia, Luca’s mother, but please call me Nezzie. Everyone does.” Mami turns to Millie’s siblings and puts a knuckle to her chin. “Now, let me see if I remember. We haven’t met, but I know Harry from the team.” Without warning, she pulls him into a hug, releases him and captures Mattie. “And you’re Mattie…”
When it’s his turn, Emmett is ready for her, arms open wide. Mami laughs. “And that makes you Emmett.” When she folds him into her arms, I catch the look on his face. Eyes closed, a dreamy smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
And my worries vanish. The Valencia’s might be loud and pushy and coming out of the woodwork. But we also might just be what these four need today.
I close in. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mami,” I say, leaning in to press a kiss to her plump cheek and hoping she knows I’m grateful. “It smells great in here. These are from Millie.”
I hand her the flowers and she exclaims over them for a good thirty seconds. “Esme,” she calls to one of my cousins. “Please put these on the dining table.”
When the flowers are out of the way, Harry edges closer to the island and points to Lucinda’s tray. “What are those?” His worshipful tone charms my aunt, and she beams at him.
“These are my pumpkin empanadas,” she says, folding over one of the stuffed dough circles and sealing the edges together with the back of a fork. “Or they will be after they’re baked. I’m Aunt Lucy, and these are my girls.”
Aunt Lucinda proceeds to introduce all my cousins, from oldest to youngest: Felicité, Natalia, Rosa, and Esme. Isaac and Ian run through the kitchen to the back door, Natalia’s four-year-old daughter Sofie trailing behind them.
