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Another message appears before I can say anything else.

Olivia

Because I may have just told my mother I’m not spending four days discussing whether I’m throwing away my future over turkey and pie.

I laugh, but it fades as I read the message again. Olivia has always been good at making something funny when she doesn’t want anyone looking too closely at how much it hurts. Going home means four days of her parents expecting answers she still doesn’t have.

Please tell me you actually said “over turkey and pie.”

Her answer comes almost immediately.

I was emotional.

I’m proud of you.

That makes one of us.

I could tell her she has nothing to feel guilty about, but I know Olivia well enough to know that isn’t what she’s asking me for. She’s already told her mother that she isn’t coming home. What she needs now is somewhere else to go.

Then I guess that means you’re coming to Charlotte.

The dots appear, disappear, then return.

You’re sure?

Yes, come spend Thanksgiving with me. Who knows, you might want to stay.

Olivia’s answer comes fast enough that I can almost hear her snort.

Let’s not get carried away. I haven’t even survived the drive yet.

I smile down at the screen, relieved enough by the familiar sarcasm that I don’t notice Jubal watching me until his knee bumps mine beneath the island.

“Is she coming?”

“Yeah.” I set my phone beside my book, already rearranging the next week in my head. Olivia can leave Wednesday after work, which means she’ll probably get here late. Dad still has the guest room she used the last time she visited. “She can stay at Dad’s with me. He likes Olivia.”

Jubal’s expression changes just enough to make me stop.

“What?”

He presses his lips together like he’s deciding whether saying it is worth whatever I’m about to do to him. “You’re staying at your dad’s?”

“Are you pouting at how tragically abandoned you’re going to be for four nights?” I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

“Four?”

I laugh because somehow that makes his expression worse. “Olivia’s staying until Sunday, Old Man. You can survive a few nights away from me.”

He reaches for his water instead of answering, but I catch the corner of his mouth trying to move. His pouting shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. He’s a thirty-two-year-old NFL quarterback who gets hit by men twice my size for a living, and four nights without me in his bed is where he draws the line.

Except I know it isn’t really four nights that did it. The Valor don’t play on Thanksgiving, and with their next game not until Sunday, he has a few days without football swallowing most of his waking hours. Judging by his face, he’d already been counting on spending that time with me. Which makes it a little harder to tease him when I don’t want to spend four nights away from him either. I bite back another smile because I’m already dreading how much I’ll miss those mornings, especially the extra ten minutes he negotiates for like I’m personally responsible for the existence of clocks. Knowing he’s already pouting over losing four of them makes it almost impossible not to kiss him.

“You were planning on spending the whole break attached to me, weren’t you?” I reach across the island and hook my fingers around his wrist.

“Maybe.” His fingers close around mine, and the pout finally gives way to the smile he’s been fighting. “But there’s one problem with your plan, Pea.”

“Besides ruining your Thanksgiving cuddle schedule?”