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Willow smiled at me and placed her hands on her hips. “So you must be the guy.”
“The guy?”
“The one who has my sister acting all giddy and giggly.”
I couldn’t help but grin at the idea that I made Yara giddy.
Willow pointed at me. “Yup. She has that exact goofy grin. I’m Willow. Nice to meet you,” she said, taking a dish from my hand and carrying it in. “And who’s the cutie hanging out by your feet?”
“Oh, this is my buddy, Feliz.”
“Well, hello, Happy,” Willow said, kneeling. “Aren’t you just a sweetheart?”
Feliz wagged his tail as if he were meeting his soulmate. I wished I had gotten that warm meeting when we first met.
Willow then stood and released a soft sigh. “Oh,” she whispered. “He likes you,” she stated, speaking of Feliz. “He feels safe with you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Now, when do I get to tell you embarrassing stories about Yara?”
“Never,” a voice said, slicing through the atmosphere. Yara darted from around the corner, and her lips turned up when she met my stare. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, you,” I replied.
We stood there for a moment, staring at each other with the goofy grins that Willow was probably talking about. I couldn’t help it, though. Whenever I saw her, I felt like a damn kid again.
“Okay, weirdos, let me take these from Alex. Drop Feliz’s leash, will you? Then you two can be awkward together alone,” Willow mentioned. I handed her the other dish and dropped Feliz, who was quick to follow her.
I brushed my hand against my neck. “Happy Thanksgiving, Goldie.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Black.”
She hugged me tightly and then pulled back. “Are you ready for the Kingsley madness of the holiday?”
“Uh, I think?”
“Good. Because we’re starting the first game of Scrabble in the living room. Please don’t be offended when I beat you time and time again.”
I smirked and rolled up my sleeves. “Game on.”
* * *
The day was packed with laughter, apple cider cocktails, and a perfectly burnt turkey, which was replaced with frozen pizzas. The last time I was in a house with so much laughter was when Teresa danced in the kitchen of her place with music blasting out of the speakers.
When the table was set, I noticed a few extra settings for the meal. I raised my eyebrow as I took my seat beside Yara, who was the only one in the room so far. All the others ordered me to stop trying to help and to sit down since I was a guest. “Are more people coming?” I asked.
“No. Those are for the ones we wish could be here today,” she explained. She pointed at the first plate. “My mother.” She gestured to the next. “And Teresa.”
“I love you,” I said without thought. It was as if my heart had robbed my tongue and spoke of its own accord. I hesitated for a moment as fear tried to slip in, but at that very point, fear had no way to exist due to the amount of love I felt. For the first time in a long time, I felt alive again. I felt whole. I felt…in love. “I love you,” I echoed. The words somersaulted from my tongue, landing into the atmosphere. “I’m sorry, I just, I know that’s fast and odd and too much probably, seeing as we only met a few months ago, but I…I love you, Yara.”
She reached a hand slowly across to me and placed it against my cheek. She pulled me in closer and brushed her lips against mine. “I love you, too.”
That was what I was thankful for the most that year—Yara’s love. I hadn’t even known I was missing so much until I found her and her passion.
The rest of the group joined us, and Matthew said grace over the food before we dove into what was one of the worst-tasting meals of my life, but I didn’t care. Too much joy was spread around to care about the inedible dishes in front of us.
Watching Yara’s family reminded me of what made a house into a home. It was the people. The laughter. The lives. The love.
I needed that family on that Thanksgiving Day to show me once again that even after loss, life could return once more. And houses could once again begin to feel like home.
* * *
After dinner, I headed outside to the back porch to get a breath of fresh air. I wanted a small moment to breathe in and out and think about everything that had happened over the past year. I’d thought of the saddest days, and I thought of the best ones. The ups and downs. The heartbreak and the heart repairs.
“Are you all right, Alex?” Tatiana asked as she stepped onto the back porch with me.
I sniffled a bit, turning around to face her. “Yeah, I’m good. I just needed a moment of air.”
