“Sure,” I say. “How about Miss Picasso?”
Brooke scrunches her nose. “What does that mean?”
Jude tries not to laugh. “Picasso was a famous artist. You’re also an artist who could become famous one day.”
Brooke considers it, glancing down at her art and smiling. “Okay, I’m Miss Pickle-So from now on.”
As soon as Jude and I make eye contact, we crack up, struggling to stifle our laughter. “That’s perfect,” I manage. “Miss Pickle-So it is.”
“Who’s ready to eat?” calls a voice from the kitchen.
“Me!” Brooke shouts, scrambling to her feet and sprinting to the kitchen. She’s followed by the rest of the kids, the men, and then Jude and me.
Witnessing all of Jude’s family crammed into one room is, in a word, overwhelming. If I’m feeling that, I can only imaginehow poor Jude feels. But it’s not long before I’m distracted, as usual, byfood.
The spread of Thanksgiving dishes covers every inch of the kitchen countertops and island, and my mouth immediately starts salivating. They’ve got all the turkey-day hits: mashed potatoes, gravy, mac-and-cheese, stuffing, cranberry sauce, buttered dinner rolls, honey-baked ham, and, of course, a massive turkey. And some green stuff, too—green bean casserole, maybe? Asparagus? I’m sure someone is excited about that, but it’s not me. My eyes are on those potatoes, pasta, and pink pig meat.
“All right, everyone, Grandpa Bill is going to say grace!” Ashlynn shouts over the rest of the family. A chorus of shushes follows until everyone settles down.
As Jude’s father recites a prayer to bless the feast, I give Jude’s hand a gentle squeeze. Jude returns it, pressing their side into me.
“In Jesus’ name, Amen,” Bill finishes.
“Amen,” everyone says in unison.
“Now, let’s eat!” Jude’s mom commands, a wide grin on her face.
The family lines up at the edge of the kitchen counter to fill their plates, and despite my growling stomach, I wait for Jude’s signal to join the line. Jude’s cousin Taylor—by far my favorite adult family member—slips in line behind us with Danny and little Harper. Taylor gently nudges Jude to get their attention, then whispers something in their ear that brings a genuine smile to Jude’s face. The two of them look at me, and Jude erupts into giggles before looking away.
“Should I be concerned?” I ask.
Danny laughs. “I would be if I were you.”
Taylor playfully shoves Danny’s upper arm. “Oh, hush, Danny. I was just telling DEADNAME how handsome you are, Oliver.”
I raise one brow toward Jude. “Is that true?”
“Taylor’s also being inappropriate,” Jude answers, their cheeks bright pink.
“Oh, Lord,” Danny groans.
“Ah, I see,” I reply. “I should have known this would happen. Alas, I am aware of the effect I have on women.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jude mutters.
Taylor snorts. “You two are fun! We should hang out before we head back to Indiana on Sunday. Maybe a double date?”
Jude and I lock eyes and smile. “Yeah, I think that would be nice,” Jude says.
We finally reach the food, and I excitedly start piling my plate. Halfway through, I feel a tug on my pants. I glance down to find Brooke staring up at me. “Hello again! How can I help you?”
“Hey, hey, can you come sit next to me?” she asks.
I look to Jude, who shrugs. “I think there’s probably more room at the kids’ table anyway.”
“Okay, Miss Picasso,” I say to Brooke. “Jude and I will be right there.”
Brooke beams, then scampers away.
