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“You’d better not let them hear you say that,” Ari laughs. “Or you won’t get any leftovers back home.”
Fin chuckles. “There won’t be any leftovers. Those vultures always eat everything right away.”
Ari makes a sympathetic face at him. “It’s okay. I’ll save some leftovers from tomorrow for you.”
Because of course, one Thanksgiving isn’t enough.
Ari insisted on having our first official Thanksgiving at the house, too. So tomorrow we’re having another meal—smaller this time—and her friend Thea is coming over to join us. And while I told Ari it wasn’t necessary, we could just relax and order delivery instead, I’m excited about celebrating at home with her.
Home. It hasn’t felt like a true home since my grandparents passed away. Until Ari came to stay, and now I can’t imagine living there without her.
But I only just told her I love her. It’s probably a bit early to ask her to live with me permanently. Right?
“Come on, Cash.” Ari nudges me. “We need to get the food inside before it gets cold.”
But there’s no worry about that.
As soon as Finn pops the hatch of his SUV, revealing the stacks of insulated food holders, a small swarm of people comes streaming out of the station to help us.
“I guess everyone is hungry?” Ari whispers, as the crowd converges on the car.
Ian overhears her and shoots her a grin. “Ari. I cook for myself, and it primarily consists of cereal and sandwiches. I have beendreamingabout this meal since Cash told me about it.”
“I’ve been thinking about those pies…” Dave adds, eyeballing a stack of covered pie trays sitting in the car.
Grant sidles up. “And I heard there was going to be sweet potato casserole. That’s my favorite.”
Eloise squeezes between Grant and Dave and gives Ari a big smile. “It’s been my turn”—she makes air quotes to emphasize the word—“to cook dinner for years. My lazy sisters keep coming up with excuses. When I heard about Thanksgiving here, I was thrilled to have an excuse of my own.”
Ari is smiling but looks a little overwhelmed at the enthusiastic greeting. So I wrap my arm around her and say, “Okay, vultures. We need to get the food inside first. Then we can talk about eating.”
Severalhoursandmanyplates of food later, everyone is sitting around the station looking stuffed and satisfied.
There haven’t been any calls yet, which is a minor miracle on Thanksgiving.
No flag football incidents, when one of the players gets too competitive and ends up tackling their cousin, breaking their arm in the process.
No microwave fires—we usually get at least one of those—someone leaving a metal spoon in a dish while reheating.
And thankfully, no domestic calls. Those are always the worst, especially on a holiday.
But for now, we have relative peace. Well, sort of.
The long dining table has been cleared of dishes and is now home to a cutthroat game of Pictionary. I’ve heard threats and bribes and apparently there’s some kind of sabotage going on. At one point, Grant snapped, “It’s the dog they sent up to the moon. How could younotget it?”
To which Eloise dryly replied, “You drew a stick dog in a circle. How was I supposed to guess Laika, the dog, from that?”
There’s another group huddled around the TV, watching one of the bowl games and wagering Monopoly money to see who gets the last piece of caramel apple pie.
Dave is in the kitchen popping Tums like they’re candy. But he’s still grinning and intermittently calling over to Ari, “Best pie I ever had. When are you making more?”
This time when he says it, Ari calls back to him, “Christmas Eve. I’ll make some and bring them in.”
“She’s a keeper,” Dave replies, loud enough that the entire station could hear him. “Ari, any time you get tired of Cash, you know where to find me.”
I shoot back at him, “Find your own woman,” and tug Ari closer to my side. But I’m laughing—Dave is goofy and outspoken, but he would never dream of approaching another man’s woman.
My woman. It’s caveman-esque, but it doesn’t change how I feel. This perfect woman, so beautiful and smart and funny—she gave it right back to the guys when they joked with her without even flinching—is mine.
