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Tristan
I haven’t seenRemi so out of sorts since right after the first time we made love. “What’s on your mind? You look as nervous as little Janie Wilkins when she snatches an extra cookie from the snack platter at Kid Castle.”
“It’s nothing… I’m perfectly fine.” He clears his throat and then rubs his eyes.
“I know what ‘perfectly fine’ looks like. This is not it.” I drag him to the half bathroom. “Look in the mirror. See that face? Check out the way you’re biting your lower lip… and what’s up with these lines?” I run a fingertip across his forehead. “Perfectly fine people’s foreheads are not wrinkled like accordions.”
“You’re seeing things that aren’t there, Tristan,” he huffs and then grabs my hand, leading me back to the sectional. “Now sit and finish your soup. I have to take you home soon.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Well, then, call this a hunger strike—I’m not taking another bite until you spill.”
Remi hates it when I don’t eat—he knows I’m perpetually hungry. “You want me to make something up?” he asks in a tone I wouldn’t accept from Jared.
“Sure. Let’s call it that.” I can effectively use sarcasm too.
His sigh is an admission that we’re getting somewhere. “Maybe I’m… you know, wondering what your plans are for Thanksgiving.”
“Well, Tara tries to cook a turkey. I watch the parade with the kids. We make turkey drawings out of traced handprints and compare them with last year’s to see how much everybody has grown.”
Remi looks at me darkly, as if waiting for more. His bad mood is over… Thanksgiving Day plans?
“If Wendy isn’t sick, we’ll all go to the park after dinner so the kids can run around.” Remi continues to stare at me expectantly. “Oh… and you’re invited.”
Finally, I see a trace of a smile. “You want to spend Thanksgiving with me?”
“It wouldn’t be fun without Coach Remi.”
Remi hops to his feet and strides across the room to the enormous window. And he gets very close to it—close enough to press his nose against the glass. Strange behavior.
“You can’t hide in front of a window,” I inform him.
“I just want to ask you something… you know… about Thanksgiving.”
“Ask away.” I may have to tickle the info out of him. It works with Tommy.
“First, you should know that my grandparents want to see me on Thanksgiving.”
My smile falls. “I guess I forgot that you have relatives too.”
He replies quickly, “I told Grandmother that I’ve become close to your family. And she said I could invite you to… the Connecticut estate.” He gulps. “Unless you have plans to see your own parents.”
“We have no plans to see our mother.” I don’t even know where she’s living at this point, not that I care. Her lack of dependability traumatized me when I was young, but the scars have faded. I refuse to hold my breath in hope of hearing from her. “Did you say the Connecticut estate?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s a huge brick mansion with a half-dozen outbuildings on fifty acres.”
Whoa, Nelly.“And all of us are welcome?”
He nods. “I’m going to invite Dacia too.”
“Do they know about… you and me?”
“Not yet, but I figure they will by the end of Thanksgiving dinner—it’s not exactly a state secret. Especially since the kids know.”
I join him by the window. “You want to take me home to meet your family?” I didn’t see this coming.
“Well, I’ve met yours,” he says.
“That’s because the Wilders are kind of a package deal.”
Remi turns and grasps me by the shoulders. “I want you to come with me.”
“Your grandparents will be cool with feeding six additional guests?”
“They have a cook… and plenty of housekeepers. Butlers. Groundskeepers too. You name it. Entertaining one hundred guests wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Oh.”
“So? Are you in?”
“I’ll have to talk to Tara, but I’m sure she’ll say yes. Her turkey always comes out of the oven chewy… like jerky. Tough to swallow. And I think she knows it.”
Remi pulls me against him, and as usual, when he’s trying to restrain his emotions, he trembles. “Thank y-you.”
“You don’t have to thank me for doing something I want to do.” I draw my hands up and down the length of his back. “It’ll be awesome.”
And it could be a wild ride.
* * *
