“Alex, enough. Go wash your hands and put that gun away, or you won’t see it until the end of the school year.”
“Party pooper,” he muttered, his pout eerily resembling his uncle’s.
“Yes, I am. No more shenanigans. I already know Uncle Sam will encourage the chaos, but he’s not the one you have to answer to tomorrow.”
The little boy stomped up the stairs, clearly not thrilled with his mother’s threats.
“Maybe you can keep your boyfriend from giving him any ideas later,” Claire laughed, winking.
“That’s cute. You think I can control Sam,” I laughed, and his sisters joined in before we all stood and ascended the stairs.
The first floor had been transformed in the short period we’d been downstairs, folding tables in every room and every spot at the large dining room table set with what looked like holiday-themed china.
It also seemed like the number of people in the house had exploded, children of all ages running around and laughing, some with plates full of food, others headed toward the kitchen.
“Grab a plate from the big table. Sam got upgraded from the kiddie table since you’re here.” Claire instructed, grabbing one of her own and heading to the buffet cabinet along the wall to check out the offerings. “Stay away from any of the casserole dishes with the blue glass. Fi means well, but Leo cooks at their house for a reason. Anything in the china serving pieces is usually safe, but avoid the stuffing with the Cheerios. It’s the gross gluten-free stuff Alison’s husband likes. It tastes like cardboard.”
Navigating was a little overwhelming, but Sam appeared at my side as my plate filled, kissing me on the cheek and beaming. Being around his family suited him, and I was glad we’d decided to come here instead of considering returning to Manhattan. Fuck my parents, and my ass kisser brother. I wouldn’t let them make me feel obligated to behave how they wanted any longer. We’d agreed to spend the week after Christmas with Nana and Piet, and I could give a shit less if I saw my parents.
Sam squeezed in at the crowded table by my side as we sat down. I grabbed his hand, squeezing, a little overwhelmed at how natural it felt to be here.
I love you. I mouthed as tears gathered in the corners of my eyes.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” he whispered back, wiping my tears before leaning over to kiss my temple and propping his arm across the back of my chair.
As his father started the blessing prayer, I said my own, eternally grateful that whatever higher power was up there somehow deemed me worthy enough to be a part of this family and deserving of Sam’s love.
The End