Page 255

Dean’s mom returns carrying a folded set of plaid pajamas. “I bought extras.”

Jerry looks at me like this is somehow my fault. “You people are insane.”

“You’re one of us now,” I tell him.

“That feels threatening.”

Twenty minutes later, Jerry comes back downstairs dressed exactly like the rest of us.

I nearly choke on my drink. “Oh, that is glorious.”

“Not one word,” he warns me.

“You look adorable.”

“Blair.”

Rory walks past, looks him up and down and nods approvingly. “They suit you.”

Jerry points at her. “You. I like you less already.”

Logan appears behind Rory with a beer in his hand. “Give it an hour. Happens to everyone.”

“Fuck off,” Rory shoots back.

“Language,” Dean’s mom calls from the kitchen.

Rory winces. “Sorry, Mom.”

Aspen looks up at Dean. “You heard Nana.”

Dean snorts. “Why am I getting in trouble?”

“Because you swear the most,” Aspen explains.

Logan nearly spits out his beer while Knox nods solemnly from the armchair.

“She’s got a point, Ashford.”

I pat Dean’s chest sympathetically. “She’s got you there.”

“Unbelievable,” Dean mutters.

Dinner is loud before we’ve even sat down. Dean’s dad is carving the roast while his mom stands beside him, telling him he’s doing it wrong.

“I’ve carved every Christmas roast for thirty-five years,” he argues.

“And every year, you make a mess of it,” his wife replies.

Dean’s dad points the carving knife toward himself. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“That isn’t evidence of competence.”

I laugh into my glass as Dean leans closer.

“Welcome to the Ashfords,” he murmurs.

“I’m beginning to understand you better.”