Page 60 of Under the Mistletoe
“Oh, he’s been Clay forever.” My mom steps into the house and looks around. She seems more weathered too. I guess the outdoorsy lifestyle will do that to you.
“Are you still Susan or…” Uncle Bob asks as I glance at Donovan, who’s watching everyone and everything fiercely.
“Sunny.” I try not to roll my eyes. They haven’t changed. Still free spirits, moving through life like a breeze, not taking anything seriously, not having any responsibilities. I always thought it was adventurous, an amazing lifestyle, but now that I'm older, I’m angry. Angry that they left me. Angry that they continue to just flow in and out of my life without any real love, care, attention, or focus.
“This is Donovan.” They look at him like he’s the devil. I knew they would. He’s the epitome of everything they hate. A strong, tall, handsome man who’s well put together and clearly has money.
“Pleasure to meet you.” Donovan extends his hand toward my father, and my father takes it. Barely.
“You’re obviously from the city.” My dad’s tone is dismissive, and my shoulders tighten. No nice to meet you. No how did you two meet? Just assessing him, looking at him like there’s already an issue.
“I’ve lived here in New York all my life.” Donovan nods.
“Oh, you poor man. All that smog, pollution. Not to mention, the government doing all they can to ensure Corporate America grows while the general population suffer at the hands of climate change and economic greed…” My mom shakes her head, and I look at Uncle Bobby, wondering why I thought this was a good idea.
“Well, come on in. Vivian’s in the kitchen.” My parents follow Uncle Bob, leaving Donovan and me standing there.
“Sorry, they are…” I try to find the words. Rude? Disappointing?
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“I do. They’re a little…” I swallow, not sure what to say because I don’t really know. I don’t really know them at all. Not really. They feel more like strangers than my parents. I don’t even feel comfortable hugging them.
“You don’t need to apologize for another adult's behavior," he reiterates firmly, and I nod. He’s right. I don’t. I look back at the box and open it again, taking in the sparkling jewels.
“Thank you… for the gift. They’re really beautiful,” I tell him now that my shock at his words has dissipated slightly. I pull them out, one at a time, putting them on, then grin up at him. “How do they look?”
He smiles, his eyes warm on mine. “You look beautiful. But you don’t need diamonds for that.” He steps forward, his hands encasing my waist as he kisses my forehead. I take a breath and steel myself for what this day will bring.
We sit around the table, the food spread out before us.
“Thank you, Vivian. This is amazing,” Donovan tells her, and I beam. She’s put in a lot of effort, and the grin she gives Donovan is warm.
“Thank you, Donovan. Here, have some of the carrots. Jay Jay made them.” My aunt smiles at me as Donovan takes the bowl, heaping carrots onto his plate.
“Poisonous?” he murmurs to me, looking at me from under his brow.
“Potentially.” I giggle as my lips hit my wineglass, enjoying seeing his eyes twinkle.
As we all pass around the food, my plate is piled with all the delicious things I’ve enjoyed since I can remember.
“Are these carrots organic?” my mother asks, and Vivian pauses.
“Of course,” Uncle Bob says, not looking pleased and passing the beans to his wife. They aren’t. None of the vegetables are, but not because we are against choosing organic or anything, but it isn’t cheap to eat organically, and as a family, we don’t tend to follow that route.
“Thank God. Monoculture practices are out of control around this country.” My mom huffs, and when I look at Uncle Bobby, his jaw is clenched.
“So, still working in the sprinkler business?” my father asks my uncle.
“We are. The shop is doing amazingly well, all thanks to Jay Jay.” My uncle looks at me proudly, and I grin.
“Oh, you work there too?” my mom asks, judgment in her tone.
“On Saturdays. During the week, I work with Donovan in his business, doing business strategy and analyst work, looking for trends, forecasting, that kind of thing.” I take a bite of the turkey and almost moan. Gosh, I love Thanksgiving.
My mom frowns in confusion. “You both work together?”
“We do.” Donovan grins, looking at me proudly.
