Page 50 of Forever Yours

Spying the gigantic diamond on her left hand, I used the powers of deduction to conclude that Leah must be Gabe’s fiancée. I vaguely remember seeing inPeoplemagazine that he was engaged.

Trenton stepped over to her and kissed her cheek. “Good to see you, Leah. This is Ali. I see you’ve outdone yourself.”

Looking at the spread on the counter, Leah wrung her hands. “I hope it’s enough. This is the first Thanksgiving I’ve made for more than two people.”

“Everything looks and smells great,” I assured her.

She smiled. “Thanks. You’re welcome to hang out in here with me while I finish up, or you can hang out in the living room. I don’t know how good of company Lacey will be, though. She just discoveredBridgerton, and I can’t pull her away from it.”

“I could be tempted to stop watching if you’ll let me have some wine!” came a shouted reply from the other room.

Leah rolled her eyes. “Try again when you’re twenty-one!” she called back. “She’s in college, and I’m not stupid enough to believe she doesn’t drink there, but I’m not contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Plus, can you imagine the headlines? ‘Gabe Gable enables underage sister-in-law to post drunk TikTok videos from his house.’”

“That’s ridiculous!” Lacey called. “Back toBridgerton.”

“Sorry,” Leah said. “It’s an ongoing battle.”

“She’s just mad because you made her delete the drunk ones she already posted,” Gabe said.

Leah picked up her wineglass and drained it. “When I have children of my own, I’m sending them to boarding school for their teen years. I take that back. She was fine in high school, but she’s gotten wild in college. I just don’t want her to post all the stupid things she does online and have them bite her in the ass later.”

Gabe rubbed the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Trenton snorted. “Yeah, neither would I. I was a saint, practically an angel.”

I could only imagine the shenanigans Trenton and the other Misdirection guys had gotten into.

The kitchen door swung open, and Evan appeared, his arms loaded with brown grocery bags. “Was someone talking about the perfection of angels? Because here I am!” He set the bags down on a chair and pulled out a potted plant. He offered it to Leah. “Sorry. I didn’t think stores would be sold out of flowers on Thanksgiving, but apparently, I thought wrong.”

She laughed. “Uh, thanks. But just so you know, I don’t want you to judge me if this thing is dead the next time you come over.”

“Noted.” Evan looked at me. “Sorry, Ali, but I didn’t get you a plant. I thought that might cross a line, all things considered.”

He’d paired me up with one of his best friends, but he thought a palm something-or-other plant would be too much? “That’s okay,” I assured him. “I don’t need to be responsible for keeping another living thing alive.” Besides, I’d already gotten flowers from a Misdirection alum this week. Every time my gaze fell upon them, they made me smile.

Evan pulled a sad-looking pumpkin pie out of a bag. “Where can I put this?”

Leah wrinkled her nose at the sight of it. “In the garbage. I told you not to buy a pie.”

“She’s been testing out recipes for the past month,” Gabe said. “Her pumpkin pie is perfection.”

Evan shrugged and shoved over a basket of crackers to make room for his pie. “It’s not a proper Thanksgiving without a cheap, rubbery, store-bought pumpkin pie.”

Trenton shot him a bland glance. “Coming from you, that statement does not surprise me.”

Trenton

I would never admit it to my mother or grandmother, but Leah had made the best Thanksgiving dinner I’d ever eaten. She blushed when I told her so. “It comes from all the years of working at a diner. I didn’t cook, but I picked up a few tips. You want to know the secret?” She leaned forward and whispered, “Butter. Lots and lots of butter and sugar and everything else unhealthy.”

Beside me, Ali tossed her cloth napkin on the table and groaned. “I don’t want to know. I’ll have to spend extra time on the treadmill just to fit into all the clothes I bought to wear on the show.”

“How is that going?” Leah asked. “We hear a little from Evan, but your experience must be so different.”

“So far, so good.” Ali rapped her knuckles on the table. “Knock on wood.”

“Interacting with the host is her favorite part,” Evan said. I was pretty sure he was drunk, but I didn’t blame him. Thanksgiving was the one day during the show season he could be relatively sure no one would call him to put out fires. The show came off flawlessly on television, but behind the scenes, it was a bit of a shit show. At least, that was what Evan said. He tended to embellish.

“He’s so witty and handsome,” Ali deadpanned. “Backstage, all the girls fight over him.”

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