Page 109 of Miami Ice

“Yes, Dad,” I call back.

Blue, a black retriever-chow mix, bounds up to Winston, and they greet each other happily. I let him off his leash, and he wanders down the marble-tiled hall to the spacious living room. I furrow my brow. Wait a minute. All the furniture is new. I lead Beckham into the living area, which has a large, L-shaped modular sectional sofa in white, and two minimalist-style chairs in a light gray. There’s a huge round coffee table between the seating arrangements in a greige color.

All new. None of this was here when I visited Dad and Tasha last month.

And they had just purchased furniture the year before.

“Hey, Georgie girl,” Dad says cheerfully, coming up and enveloping me into a huge hug. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dad.” I step back from him. My dad is dressed perfectly as he always is, with his expensive TravisMathew golf shirt and pants. “Dad, I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Beckham Bailey. Beckham, this is my dad, Greg.”

“Such a pleasure to meet you,” Dad says, extending his hand to Beckham. “I couldn’t believe it when Georgie said she was seeing you.”

Beckham grips Dad’s hand firmly. “Sir, it’s more the other way around. I can’t believe Georgie said yes to dating me.”

I can’t stop the sappy smile that I know is spreading across my face.

“This is for you,” Beckham says, handing my dad a bottle of chardonnay.

He looks down at the label, and his eyes widen. “Wow, Beckham, this is quite the gift. Thank you.”

I swallow. Beckham bought my dad a very expensive bottle of wine from France, and my label-loving Dad is obviously impressed by it.

“You’re welcome,” Beckham says.

“Here, let me introduce you to everyone.” Dad quickly introduces him to Daniel and Larissa, who tear themselves away from their phones in order to meet a hockey player. Then we head into the open kitchen, where Tasha is busy putting out an elaborate buffet and her sister is standing idly by, her arms crossed and a glass of wine in her hand, a look of distaste on her face.

“Oh, Beckham, I’m so glad you could join us,” Tasha says cheerfully. “I’m Tasha—or better known as Greg’s better half—and I have a scrumptious brunch planned for today.”

I glance around at all the silver chafing dishes on the large kitchen island. It looks like she’s feeding fifty instead of ten.

But this just sums up Dad and Tasha perfectly. Always living to excess. Getting exactly what they want and spending money they don’t have. It scares me for them and has caused me more anxiety than I care to admit.

“It’s a good thing you’re an athlete. You can eat most of this food because Tasha ordered way too much,” Kaitlyn says.

I watch as Tasha shoots her daggers. Tasha and Kaitlyn are the exact opposite of me and Ella—they never get along, always argue, and for some reason, insist on spending every holiday together with the single goal of making each other miserable.

And making the rest of us miserable, too.

“There is enough delicious food for everyone,” Tasha says, tucking a lock of her black hair behind her ear.

Kaitlyn snorts. “If everyone is an NFL team, yes.”

“It smells delicious,” I say quickly, wanting to get rid of the hostility in the air.

“It does,” Beckham says, backing me up. “And Tasha, thank you for having me. These are for you.”

Tasha’s eyes brighten once she sees the arrangement of flowers. “Oh, thank you so much. That’s so thoughtful. I’m going to set these by the window. Can I get you two anything to drink?”

I tell her I can get the drinks for me and Beckham, and then I ask if I can help in any way.

“Oh no, I’m finishing heating up a few things and then we’ll be ready to eat,” Tasha says. “We hired a chef this year so I’m super excited about the menu.”

Hired a chef.

New furniture.

Gah, I can’t even imagine what they are going to spend in the roll up to Christmas. I’ve seen this repeat itself year after year. The spending is enormous, then the stress and anxiety when bills come in a month later, how they have to make minimum payments on credit cards and the debt keeps building until Dad closes some big sale for the computer systems company he works for …

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