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I know it's not fair to Steve. He's here spending time with our daughter while I'm making out with my ex in the woods.
But this is my life. And I finally have a say in how I want to live it.
So, Steve can either accept that our marriage is over for good or he can go back to California with his blinders on.
Either way, I'm not interested in reconciling.
I notice Brianna looks happy as we sit around sharing what we're thankful for. The Thompsons love their traditions. And she loves all the Thompsons. Moving home was the right choice. But Steve being here? It's good for Brianna. It's just not good for me.
When it's Steve's turn to share, he looks at me and tells the table he's thankful for his family.
Dad gives me an encouraging nod.
"I'm thankful for new beginnings," I raise my glass. "And for a car that doesn't break down every other day."
Steve looks uncomfortable after that, but Liam winks at me.
Dessert is just as agonizing as dinner, so I sneak away to make Brady a plate of food. I have ulterior motives for asking Liam to join me for a drink at the Glorious Pig. He's my cover.
Brady has spent all day alone working and I know he hasn't eaten yet, so I plan on spending the last few hours of Thanksgiving with him. I'm sure Liam can find someone to have gross bathroom sex with. He lives for that stuff.
"What are you doing?" Mom asks me.
"Oh," I clear my throat, "just making up a plate of food for Brady. I'm going to drop it off to him. Did I tell you his mom has dementia and he spends every holiday working?"
Mom exhales heavily. "No, I meant what are you doing, Iz? Brianna's here. Steve is here. And you're...you're running off to go see Brady. It's like old times. The sneaking around and the secrets. I thought this wasn't you anymore."
I stop filling Brady's plate and look at her. "I'm not sure what you're suggesting here, but I'm not sneaking around."
"You're making him a plate of food," Mom points to the paper plate in my hand.
"Did you not hear anything I said?" I snap. "He's all alone. His dad died. His mom can't even remember what day it is. The last time I checked, I was a Thompson, and we don't leave people alone on holidays. We take them in and we give them someplace to belong. And what about Steve? You don't seem all that angry that while he was sitting onhisass playing video games for years, I was workingmyass off to keep a roof over our heads."
"I'm not defending Steve," Mom holds up a hand.
"Yes," I shake my head, "you are. You're defending someone who let me work myself to the bone and never once lifted a finger to help."
"What about Brianna?" Mom wraps her arms around her chest. "You're just going to leave her?"
I shake my head. "Unbelievable. Steve is here. And he can be a goddamn parent for once. I have been doing this alone for the last three years."
"That's not fair," Mom chastises me.
"I carried Brianna for nine long months," I argue. "I threw up every day for nine months while avoiding caffeine and lunch meat. I felt unimaginable pain giving birth to her without an epidural. And where the fuck was Steve? Sleeping on the couch in my hospital room. So, you know what? If you want to stand here and lecture me about being a bad parent, you better give Steve the same speech."
"I'm not—"
"No," I interrupt as Aunt Jenny walks into the kitchen. "We're done having this conversation."
Mom turns on her heel and leaves the room.
"Before you start in on me," I warn Aunt Jenny, "she was completely out of line."
"If I recall correctly," Aunt Jenny gives me a small smile, "my mom had a very hard time when I started seeing Uncle Kyle after he came back."
"How long was he gone for?" I ask her.
"Five years," she hitches her shoulder. "It felt much longer, though."
