Page 25 of Cakewalk

Thanksgiving had always been a big deal to Hannah. Holden had never understood exactly where her love of the holiday had come from, but there was no stopping it. She treated Thanksgiving like some people treated Christmas, with wreaths, pumpkins, gourds, and all sorts of other decorations that seemed to cover every inch of their home. If there had been such a thing as Thanksgiving music, Holden was sure she would have listened to it at full blast the second it was socially acceptable—and maybe even a little before. Even after they had moved to London, where traditional American Thanksgiving wasn’t celebrated, she had found a way. She’d called it “friendsgiving” and gathered together a bunch of their neighbors and his teammates for a great big dinner the third weekend in November.

“This year’s theme is Indian,” she had told him as they sat at the breakfast bar in their kitchen, sipping on a glass of wine one night.

“That seems a little inappropriate,” Holden had remarked, knowing full well what she really meant, but unable to stop himself from teasing her. He was also unsure of how she thought she was going to pull it off. She had taken to finding a new theme these last few years for what she started referring to as her “signature event.” While the French food a couple of years prior had been very well received, last year’s choice of Ethiopian had left something to be desired by most guests. Himself included. “Not sure they really condone the holiday.”

“As in the Asian subcontinent, not Native Americans,” she’d corrected him, giving him a look like she couldn’t believe he went there. He laughed at her, taking a sip of his own drink and letting her continue. “I talked with Priti and Jatin from upstairs, and she gave me a bunch of recipes to try! It’s gonna be so much fun!”

True to her word, the event had turned out to be a lot of fun. Holden couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed as hard as that moment when his team captain, Nate Van Ryper, attempted to swallow that first bite of vindaloo. After managing to choke it down and immediately chugging his entire beer, the Dutchman had taken a moment to catch his breath before turning to Hannah.

“Just so I know, is everything on this table going to make me feel as if I’m swallowing fire?” he’d asked. Van Ryper’s wife had smacked him with the back of her hand, as their goalkeeper and a pair of defensemen at the other end of the table started to snicker. “Because if it feels like that going in, I can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like coming out!”

The whole table had erupted into laughter as Hannah’s face paled. Taking a bite of it herself, she’d quickly spit it out and muttered a not-so-quiet “fuck me!”

“I followed Priti’s recipe to the letter!” she’d exclaimed in between gulps of water. “It never occurred to me that it would be this…this…”

“Potent?” Holden offered up.

“Yes!”

The table had erupted again, this time with not just laughter, but Hannah’s profuse apologies and jokes about her almost killing half the starting line-up. When Van Ryper suggested that they box it up and send it up to Liverpool, who they believed to be the only team standing between them and the Cup that year, the howls of laughter probably could have been heard from space. After running to the local takeaway joint down the block and getting them something that the group wasn’t afraid to eat, they’d settled in for some of the most fun they’d had since moving overseas.

“That’ll teach me to get adventurous with food ever again,” Hannah said that night as they had climbed into bed. Snuggling into him, she sighed softly, a sweet smile on her face. He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

“It was not one of your finer culinary achievements,” he’d told her. “But I think we still had a pretty good night.”

“Next year, I promise, we’ll do that traditional thing,” she’d told him. “And maybe not with so many people. I think I want our first one as a family to be just us.”

“First one as a family?”

Hannah looked up at him, her eyes full of hope and a glow he’d never seen. The smile tugging on her lips was the one she had whenever she was about to spill a secret, and his heart skipped a beat as he started to process her words.

“I’m pregnant,” she had whispered.

It was as if Holden’s heart had stopped and sped up simultaneously. Pregnant. He was going to be a father.

“Seriously?” he’d asked, shifting to get a better look at her. She nodded slowly, that secret-spilling smile now taking over her entire face. “Then I am the luckiest fucking man on earth, and I already can’t wait for next Thanksgiving.”

A sinking feeling overwhelmed Holden as he thought back on his words that night. Had he known what he did now, he would have done so many things differently. He would never have gone out with the guys that night, never let Hannah convince him that she was fine to go home by herself. If he had just been a little less selfish, then he and Hannah could have had not only that first family Thanksgiving, but a whole bunch more.

“Does that sound like something you might want to do?” he heard Gigi ask through the fog in his head.

“Um, yeah. Sure,” he said, not having any idea what he just agreed to.

“Squeeee!” she shrieked, bounding over to him and throwing her arms around his neck. She smelled of baked goods, and he inhaled deeply, trying to chase away the monsters in his mind. Her warmth surrounded him, and he wanted to get lost in it. No, dumbass, you cannot get lost in her. Not after thinking about your wife. Get it together.

If only he had a way to do that.

11

Holden

The sound of banging from the direction of the kitchen dragged Holden out of his nice, peaceful sleep. It had been a week since Gigi showed up in his office, bouncing up and down about he still didn’t know what, sending him reeling back in time, leaving him in a funk ever since. Gigi had spent most of her time since at the Busy Bean, and while he’d missed their evenings together, he knew he probably would not have been the best of company.

Forcing himself into a half-sitting position, he glanced over at the clock. Nine sixteen, it told him. Why wasn’t Gigi at the café? Had she mentioned a day off in the middle of the week and he’d just missed it? He needed to get his head together and fast. He snuggled back down into the pillows and closed his eyes, hoping that he could easily slip back into his slumber.

A heavy beat followed by the warble of a feminine voice abruptly started up, taking him from a state of still semi-asleep, to full-on awake. Forcing himself out of bed, he figured it was for the best anyway. The funk he’d been in had drained him to the point he hadn’t been on a run in days, and he was starting to feel the effects. He needed to get out there and pound the pavement. Maybe he could even add some distance to his normal route today, giving him more of a chance to clear his head. He quickly found his running gear, changed, and headed down to the kitchen.

Holden hit the bottom stair just as the song changed over to something a little slower, with a little more twang. He didn’t know the details of Taylor Swift’s back catalog, but if he had to guess, this one must have been from back when she still claimed to be a country artist. Either way, watching Gigi’s gorgeous figure dance around to the melody was a sight that he was more than happy to see first thing. She stood up against the countertop, carefully reading a cookbook, dragging her finger across the page while swaying her luscious hips in time to the music. His hands itched to hold on to those curves as she moved, feeling the flow of her body against his.