Page 113 of Every Thought Taken

CHAPTER62

ANDERSON

“Not happening,” I snap, my molars grinding. “Sorry.”

Ales gifts me a sympathetic smile. “No need to apologize. Figured that’d be your answer, but I had to ask.”

A little more than a week has passed since Joan did her damnedest to belittle me on Main Street. She gave no fucks that dozens of people stopped to watch the spectacle. If anything, it probably gave her some sick sense of joy. Now she has the audacity to act as if it never happened, like our relationship is all smiles and laughter and warm hugs. There are more than screws loose in that woman’s head.

“I want closure with her, but on my terms.”

Attending Thanksgiving at my childhood home sounds more like a catastrophe waiting in the wings versus the right time to talk and find a peaceful middle ground with my procreators. What I need to say to them, especially her, shouldn’t be said in a group setting. Our rift isn’t a secret, but that doesn’t mean I want to air out my past with a crowd in the room. Her display on the sidewalk is a clear message she doesn’t care who hears what.

So long as it garners her attention, Joan Everett doesn’t give a damn what people think of her. Holidays with “family” and friends are an open invitation for her to fill her holier-than-thou well.

“You need to do something meaningful with your life, Anderson. Oh, pass the potatoes.”

No thanks.

Ales slips on a pair of oven mitts, picks up the corn bread casserole, and carries it to the table. “When you’re ready, let me know. I’ll be right there with you.” Setting it in the middle, she peels off the mitts and tosses them on the kitchen counter. “Until then, it’s Friendsgiving time.”

“This, I can do.” Pulling out a chair and sitting next to Helena, she meets my gaze.

“Everything okay?”

I rest my hand on her thigh and rub small circles with my thumb. “Yeah. Joan asked Ales to ask us to Thanksgiving. I said no.” I shrug. “Just need a little longer.”

Her hand covers mine beneath the table. “Take as long as you need.” She leans in and kisses the angle of my jaw. “Thanksgiving can be just the two of us. Or, if you’d like, we can join my parents.” Dainty fingers wrap around my hand and squeeze. “I’m good with whatever.”

“Talk about it later?”

“Good with me,” she says, giving me a quick kiss. “Now, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

We elected to stay home on Thanksgiving, just the two of us and Smoky, for our first major holiday as a serious couple. And if future holidays promise to be equally good, I have no qualms about staying in for them all.

Hours spent in the kitchen, we mixed and cooked and flung ingredients at each other. Dinner was enjoyed on the couch, followed by snuggles and movie time. Then, as day turned to night, snuggles shifted from innocent and sweet to hungry and heated.

Yep. I am one-hundred-percent good with every holiday in the apartment, just me and her and our furry little girl.

Across the table, Helena pops the last bite of egg in her mouth. After a swig of tea to wash it down, she knocks me breathless with a smile. “We should get a tree today.”

It takes me a second to piece together she means Christmas tree. The last time I gave a damn about Christmas was months before everything went to shit for us. Once Ales went to college, holidays were more about what my mother wanted and less about family.

Now, everything is different. Now, Helena and I have a second chance to create a beautiful life together. To create new traditions. However we want.

“I’d love to. Though my tree-picking skills are rusty.”

She takes her plate to the kitchen, rinses it, and sets it in the dishwasher. I finish the last of my breakfast and clean up while she heads for the bedroom. With the kitchen counter wiped down and the dishwasher running, I amble toward the bedroom, peeling my shirt over my head as I go. The shower in the en suite bathroom is running as I enter the room. I strip the last of my clothes away and join her under the hot spray.

Before she soaps up the loofah, I pin her to the tile and make her moan. Shower sex is new and awkward and definitely not as easy as movies make it seem. That just means we need more practice, which I won’t complain about.

After we wash up and towel off, Helena dries her hair and we dress for the bitter chill that swept through town last night. Lake Lavender doesn’t see snow like the eastern part of the state, but it isn’t uncommon to get a few inches every now and again.

“Should we take the van?” I ask.

She wraps a scarf around her neck then shoulders her purse. “Probably a good idea.” Her car would support the tree fine, but I’d hate to get sap on the paint.

Slipping on my boots, I scratch Smoky’s head. “Be good while we’re gone. Mommy and Daddy are getting you a tree to climb.” I pocket my wallet and phone, keeping my keys out.

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