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“So, London, my mom told me you’re an actor?” Orlando asked as soon as there was a lull in the conversation that he could jump into without it being awkward. He ignored Juliet’s glare.
London beamed at him.
“I am! I’ve been putting in my hours, mostly as an extra or some small characters for television, and I’ve done a few commercials. But my big break is coming. I can feel it. Juliet has been helping me out with some of her contacts.” London squeezed Juliet’s shoulders again and she smiled up at him.
The smile looked fake as fuck to Orlando, but what did he know?
Hedidknow that Juliet had worked with a lot of movers and shakers in Hollywood, because she was an incredible make-up artist. While she was never on screen, she was constantly interacting with those who were, as well as those behind-the-scenes. When it came to contacts, she would have plenty.
“I put you in touch with some people, all the actual work is all you.”
“Yeah, but half the work is who you know. And I know you.” London winked down at her while Orlando focused on the sweet potatoes.
“And Juliet knows everyone,” her dad said proudly.
Making an exasperated noise, Juliet shook her head.
“I don’t know everyone, but I know a few people. Anyway, London has been doing great on his own. I’m just helping expedite the process a little.” There was a clipped quality to her tone. Something about the discussion was bothering her, though Orlando wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he was talking to London or what London had said.
The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Deciding to give Juliet a break —and because he’d finished cutting up the sweet potatoes - Orlando went to answer it. Greeting Lawrence’s mom, he cheerfully took the two large bags she was carrying. Petite all over, she had closely-cropped white curls covering her head, and she was looking older and more delicate than he remembered even if she only had a few more wrinkles. She was like a little brown wren, small, chirpy, and bossy.
“There’s more in my trunk,” she said, handing him her keys as well.
“Yes, Momma Maya.” That’s what she’d told him to call her the first time they’d met and he’d rather liked it. He might have been an adult when his mom married her son, but she’d adopted him as one of her own and didn’t treat him any differently from any of her other grandchildren.
Orlando obediently followed her into the kitchen, watching with one eye as she was introduced to London. The feeling of disquiet as she looked Juliet’s boyfriend over grew, and Orlando beat a hasty retreat to go get the rest of the food out of Momma Maya’s trunk. She always insisted she didn’t want to host, but then also brought half of the food and showed up early to make it because she didn’t trust anyone else to ‘do it right.’
At first Orlando had thought she was insulting his own mom, but then he’d realized it was a bonding experience for them. Momma Maya spent time with his mom in the kitchen, showing her all the family recipes because she had been accepted as one of the family. And this way, Momma Maya didn’t have to do any of the cleaning up before or after.
Humming tunelessly under his breath, Orlando was pulling out the bag of food and the covered casserole dish that probably had her infamous mac’n’cheese in it, when Juliet came round the side of the car. With the trunk up, blocking his view of the house, he hadn’t realized that she’d followed him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, repeating the question from earlier.
“Getting the food for Momma Maya,” he said easily. Yeah, he was a jerk, because he enjoyed watching her eye twitch at his name for her grandmother. “Like she asked me to.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “What are you doing here for Thanksgiving? You weren’t supposed to be here.”
“What, I can’t spend Thanksgiving with my family?” If he had a better answer for her, he wouldn’t be such a dick, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit to her that he’d wanted to meet her boyfriend. Had felt an overwhelming drive to meet him.
Not to mention to see Juliet again, even though he knew he’d shut that door. At least, he was pretty sure he’d shut that door.
Now that they were both here, and she’d followed him outside…
“Not this Thanksgiving with this family. Why aren’t you with your dad?”
Orlando rolled his eyes.
“I never spend the holidays with my dad. Well, rarely.” Not since the last time he and his dad had talked and he’d made it clear that if his dad contacted his mom again, he’d never get another cent from Orlando. And he’d taken the time to add up everything he’d given his dad over the years and pointed out that it was actually more than what his dad had given them—debt paid.
Now his dad still called him from time to time, but Orlando let them go to voicemail. Which he would listen to if his dad ever left him one. He did check in with his mom and his dad wasn’t calling her either, so that was that.
“Then where do you spend them?” Juliet looked taken aback and he realized she must have assumed he switched back and forth between his parents, the way she did. But she had two good sets of parents, not one good set and one dickhead in disguise.
“Sometimes with friends, sometimes on my own.”
“So, you’ve just been avoiding me every time you miss a holiday?” To his surprise, she looked kind of hurt.
“What makes you think it’s about you?” Except that it was. Completely and totally.
