Page 54 of The Sweet Spot

In Wolseley’s case, I didn’t want her worrying about my parents or trying to impress them because nothing short of me marrying the heir to some throne would impress them. In my parents’ case, giving them any information about Wolseley would have them googling her and digging up as much dirt as possible as if they were some detective team. So far, my plan was to tell both sides just before my parents came to town and then let the chips fall where they may. It wasn’t a solid plan.

I managed to nod off, and when I got up, I was looking forward to dinner. The thought of hanging out with people, even Ethan, was a luxury I rarely had. For so long, I’d kept my life insular; that way I didn’t have to let people in, I couldn’t disappoint them, and I didn’t have to rely on them. But I did crave friendships, more than the few I had. I wanted to hang out, have beers, talk sports, be normal, but that meant opening myself up, and right now, the only person I was letting in was Wolseley, and I was still keeping shit from her.

At least with the guys, I had a taste of camaraderie, but what happened when my career was over? If I hadn’t settled down and had a family? Would I end up alone in a shack in the woods? Living like a loner? I’d be the old person yelling at people for driving too fast, if I didn’t start making some changes.

I got to Wolseley’s—or Ethan and Tangi’s condo—a few minutes early. I figured she’d need the help, and when I saw her, I nearly choked. She was in a long, fitted skirt and a black turtleneck sweater. Her hair was in soft, voluminous curls, just like Marilyn Monroe. I was fucking speechless.

“Hey,” she said with a devious smile.

“Are you trying to turn on all the guys tonight?”

“Just one,” she said and winked.

“You succeeded!”

She tasked me with taking the monster turkey out of the oven because it had taken the two of them to get it in, and Wolseley was convinced she was scarred for life from the experience. She really did hate handling meat. Delia covered the bird with tin foil while it rested. She then popped some brown blob into the oven that Delia told me was fake turkey. I didn’t ask for the details. I was too busy salivating over Wolseley and having many indecent thoughts.

My next job was to greet people as they arrived, take their coats, offer them drinks, and so on. I was hardly the best person for the job, but Wolseley and Delia were busy. Jill and Jeremy arrived first, and I did my job, but neither wanted refreshments. Ryan came next and asked for a beer, so I finally had something to do. Ethan and Tangi came last with their daughter, and I was sure he scowled at me. The guy had to get over himself.

Apparently, Tangi was visibly pregnant, but I couldn’t tell with her oversized sweater. None of my business, anyway. Neither wanted anything, so I assumed my job was over, but next thing I knew, Wolseley had me putting out appetizers.

“Wolseley already has you domesticated,” Ryan said.

“She’s trying.”

“She’s looking smoking hot tonight. What’s that all about?”

“She really likes dressing up for the holidays.”

What else could I say? That she’d dressed up for me? Ryan would never stop ribbing me about it.

She finally greeted her guests, looking a little frazzled. She wished everyone a happy Thanksgiving, which was weird since it was six weeks ago.

“Now that that is out of the way, who is going to carve the turkey, because it isn’t going to be me,” she said.

We all looked at each other. Had any of us carved a bird before? Finally, Ryan jumped up and said he’d do it. He’d done it a few times before, so that was good enough for everyone. I helped Wolseley bring out the endless dishes of food. She’d gone all out tonight. Turkey, fake turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, vegan gravy, candied yams, some kind of broccoli, two different salads, cranberry sauce, her homemade bread with your choice of butter—vegan and regular—and a green bean casserole.

“You are going to need to roll us out of here tonight,” Tangi said.

“Everyone is leaving with a doggie bag.”

I waited to see if she would explain the history of doggie bags, but she didn’t.

I tried everything, even the fake turkey, which wasn’t that bad. I probably ate more candied yams than I should have, but I’d never had them before. I had way too much of her homemade bread. Thankfully, we had the next day off because all this food was going to make me a zombie, but it was worth it. When I caught Wolseley’s attention across the table, I gave her a wink, and she smiled back shyly. She was truly adorable.

After we’d all stuffed ourselves, the decision was made that Wolseley and Delia got to relax while the rest of us cleaned up. Tangi and Jill put together their own doggie bags while Ryan filled the containers Wolseley had given him tothe brim. Jeremy and Ethan brought in dishes while I loaded the dishwasher. I put aside anything that needed to be handwashed.

Since I’d had my fill of entertaining for a few minutes, I got started washing the leftover dishes while everyone mingled in the living room and on the balcony. It was an unseasonably warm day in Vancouver, so everyone wanted to enjoy it. I was perfectly happy washing dishes when Tangi appeared, holding a hand towel.

“Mind if I help you dry?”

“Not at all,” I said as pleasantly as possible. I knew why she was doing it. She wanted information.

“Great dinner tonight,” she said.

“Wolseley made the best meal I’ve ever had.”

“Lucky you that she gets to make you food all the time.”

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