Page 52 of A Hard Fit

“Finn!” Rory propped a hip against the counter. “Help me decide. Usually people have very strong feelings about what is included in Thanksgiving dinner.”

Finn waggled his eyebrows. “It’s hard for me to think when I’m staring at your perfect face and long, delicious neck.”

Rory snorted but ran a hand along Finn’s shoulders on their way to the coffee maker. “Nice try. Mashed potatoes? Candied yams? Stuffing? What did you have growing up?”

“Um, peanut-butter sandwiches?” Finn shrugged, fiddling with his spoon. “My mom was always working. I remember dinner with my grandma, once. I think we had sweet potato casserole.”

Rory kissed the top of Finn’s head while the coffee machine hummed. “Then sweet potato casserole it is.”

* * * *

Rory left early for their parents’ house on Thanksgiving, so Finn was home alone that morning prepping a canvas when the doorbell rang. He grabbed a rag to wipe his hands and was surprised to see a familiar, dignified face smiling at him when he opened the door.

“Aleandro!” Finn said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Finn.” Aleandro gestured to a case of wine at his feet. “Forgive me for showing up unannounced. Penelope and I are on our way to Camarillo with Ilona, but I heard you and Rory were hosting Luka and Thomas for dinner this weekend and I wanted to drop this off for you to enjoy. I hope the Chéreau will be to your liking?”

Finn’s tastebuds watered. “Are you kidding? That’s amazing. Thank you so much.”

“It’s my pleasure. I hope the four of you enjoy it.”

Finn waved as Aleandro climbed back into his car then hauled the wine into the kitchen, stashing four bottles in the fridge and tucking the case away into the garage chaos before heading back to his studio. He thought about texting Rory roughly four thousand times before he finally caved.

Miss you,he sent, when the first layer was drying.

Rory replied right away.Miss you too.

Finn hummed over his paint colors.

* * * *

Rory got home—or rather, back to Finn’s house—late that night, smelling like grease and cinnamon.

“How was it?” Finn asked as Rory fell onto the couch next to him.

“Oh, fine.” They tipped over and laid their head in Finn’s lap. “The usual. Loud, busy, fun but exhausting.”

Finn slid his fingers into Rory’s hair. “Tell me about it.”

“Mmm…” Rory closed their eyes and nuzzled into the touch before starting to talk. “Um, we played Charades first. My team won—quite proud of my performance onDie Hard, to be honest.”

Finn chuckled. “Did you do Hans falling off the tower?”

Rory smiled up at him, eyes crinkled. “Sure did. Then it was dinner, and Minnie wanted to help set the table. Not sure who thought it would be a good idea to have her carry the cranberry sauce, but she spilled it on the rug, so the first half hour of dinner included a lot of crying. Then, after dinner, one of my cousin’s kids, Leo, broke a vase.”

“Oh no! Was it an accident?”

“Nah, he pushed his brother into it. So then my cousin was shrieking at him and told him to wash dishes to help ‘pay’ for it. But my mom gave him some candy and sent him to go play.”

“Oof.”

“Yeah. That didn’t go over well with my cousin. Otherwise, my great aunt managed not to say anything too racist, and overall, conflict was at a minimum. Well, except I caused a bit of an incident when my uncle commented that the actress who plays Ophy put on a lot of weight in season three.”

“What?”

“I know, it’s insane. She’s gorgeous and talented and on a hit TV show, and he wants to talk about her weight? Maddening.”

Finn scratched his nails along the shaved part of Rory’s scalp. “Ophy is beautiful no matter what, and so are you.”

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