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I feel a slight pang of sadness – this is the first Thanksgiving I’ve spent away from my family – but Merch’s hand lands on my thigh, squeezing.
“This is my first proper Thanksgiving,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m glad you’re here to share it with me, kid.”
Well, I’m hardly going to feel any sadness after hearingthat. Palmer moves to carve the turkey, helping Lisa make up all the plates.
Lisa clears her throat as he grabs his fork, glaring at him. Palmer quickly drops his fork, reaching for her hand and seizing his beer as Lisa lifts her wine glass in a toast.
“I’m thankful for my new life,” she announces, beaming at Palmer, who blinks back at her, looking confused. I think it might be his first proper Thanksgiving too.
There is a pause, and I quickly lift my own glass. “I’m thankful for new beginnings.”
I squeeze Merch’s hand, and he grins at me. Luckily for him, I reminded him to have prepared what he was thankful for. It does not appear that Lisa gave Palmer the same advice. Merch lifts his beer.
“I’m thankful you for, kid.”
I giggle, a blush heating my cheeks as I duck my head. Palmer finally catches on, smirking at Lisa.
“I’m thankful I learned how good candy tastes.”
Lisa looks both mortified and a little bit horny as Merch snorts. We all take a sip, and Palmer’s eyes dart to Lisa as his fingers twitch, reaching for his fork again.
“Nowyou can eat,” she tells him magnanimously.
Looking relieved, Palmer digs into his food, grinning over at us.
“It doesn’t taste like shit.”
Merch’s face remains impassive, but I can feel his tense legs relax under the table. Thank god for that. Grabbing his fork, he starts to eat, his eyes landing on the same wedding magazine on the kitchen island I was looking through earlier.
“How’s the wedding planning?” he asks.
Palmer casts him a glare. “Fine.”
Lisa and I exchange a knowing look, giggling as we sip our wine.
MERCH
It’s like I’ve thrown a grenade on the table. Shelley casts me an amused look. I think she knew this topic would be a livewire. Fucking hell, kid. She could have warned me.
“Bridal party is sorted,” Palmer grunts. “Just us four.”
Lisa throws him a mutinous glare – I don’t think it’s as sorted as he’d like. I sense an epic fight about that shit in his future.
“Next is the guest list,” Shelley announces cheerfully. Palmer and Lisa lock eyes over the table, sparks flying. Jesus.
“Your fucking mother isn’t invited,” Palmer spits. Lisa stares him down defiantly.
“Mom can come, but my stepfather is out,” she wheedles.
“He’s definitely not fucking coming,” Palmer sneers. “And neither is your mother.”
Shelley’s head is moving back and forth between the two of them like she’s watching a game of tennis. She’s enjoying this. I can see it on her face. I’m in love with a total fucking psycho.
Suddenly, I can see a different conversation, a screaming argument between Shelley and me. She’d want to invite her parents. I know it. She’s a marshmallow rebel. They’d be the first names on her guest list.
I don’t want that woman anywhere near Shelley. From what she’s said about the day she packed her shit and moved in with me, her mother tried to stop her.
Shelley had to threaten to go to the cops to get out of there in a taxi. I don’t want that bitch anywhere near Shelley on her wedding day.
