Page 82 of Theirs

Chapter 22

Alex spends the next morning in one of the unfinished offices, while I make breakfast with Mrs. Gatsby. She’s showing me a secret family recipe for her homemade biscuits and gravy, and even brought me a laminated copy to keep for myself. Occasionally, I go check on Alex and he’ll ask me a question about what occurred between me and the monster, but there’s not much he can accomplish on a holiday. He’s found a therapist, but now he’s dead set on figuring out a way to get the authorities involved so the monster can’t hurt another person like me or Gisele again. He promises that come Monday, we’ll concentrate on if we can still press charges, but I assure him to just focus on getting me an appointment to speak to a therapist. I love that he’s wanting to help, but I don’t want to think about the monster today. This is our first holiday as a family, I don’t want it to be tainted with past trauma.

“Come on,” I tell him, leaning on the desk. “Come eat breakfast. This can wait.”

“I know,” he says, running his hands through his blonde hair. “I just don’t want you to have to worry about that monster walking the streets of Chicago freely.”

I tap my chin. “Maybe I could contact my client, Kenny. I’ve got a theory that he’s in the mafia. He could probably take care of...”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Alex says with a laugh. “I’m a lawyer, if I’m helping you, we can’t be plotting getting the Rossi or Calvos families involved.”

My jaw hangs down. “You know the names of the—”

“Mmm, is that pumpkin bread I smell? Why didn’t you tell me Mrs. Gatsby started baking?” Alex says, ignoring my mafia ramblings and striding out of the office for the kitchen.

“Don’t think I’ll forget about this conversation, Alexander White!” I yell after him.

Just as I turn the corner, I hear the front door open, and find Ben trailing behind two women. He’s got two matching lipstick marks on each of his cheeks. The moment they see me, they pounce, sandwiching me between the two of them. I struggle to breathe.

“Mom, mama,” Ben chuckles. “Please don’t smother my girlfriend to death.”

They pull their faces from me so they can both look at me with huge grins on their faces. “Well, aren’t you the most gorgeous woman our Benny has introduced us to?”

“Now I understand why you call her Lavender,” says the other woman, fluffing some of my hair. “This is a gorgeous color on you, darling. You were destined for this color.”

“Thank you,” I say with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Let me take your coats.”

They shrug out of their matching leather jackets, and hand them over to me, but Alex is already there taking them to hang up in the hall closet.

“Looks like you’ve got a full house, Benny!” one of his moms says, wrapping her arm around his shoulder as we go to join everyone in the kitchen. Mrs. Gatsby has Mac and Colin helping her bake desserts, and Mr. Gatsby is checking on the progress of the giant turkey we got for today.

“Well, hello, ladies!” Mrs. Gatsby says to Ben’s moms. “Did you save enough suitcase space to do some shopping?”

“You know it!” they say in unison.

I get everyone a drink while they take places cooking or mingling around the kitchen, and my heart feels whole watching everyone getting along so well. I try not to think back to the last seven years of holidays spent mostly alone, eating TV dinners by myself. For a couple of years, I went to Kristen’s family holidays, but it never felt this perfect.

Mac comes over to me, reaching down to hold my hand in his. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Fantastic,” I tell him. “You? You know we could have invited your parents?”

He shakes his head. “I know, but they don’t believe in celebrating this holiday. Or really any American holiday to be honest. We can see them another time. I promise.”

Mac told me he’s only a second generation American, which explains why his Scottish accent sometimes slips out. His parents moved over to the U.S. before he was born because his dad had a better business opportunity here. They’re currently back in Scotland spending time with Mac’s grandparents.

“Think we can go visit where your family is from?” I ask him, looking up into his beautiful green eyes. “I’d love to see it.”

“Of course,” he says. “Maybe we can go in the spring.”

“It’s a date,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist.

***

“This looks fantastic, ya’ll,” Mrs. Gatsby says as we all go into the dining room to take our seats. There’s so much food on the table, we’ll probably have left overs for over a week. The humongous plate of turkey sits carved in the middle, with gravy on the side, stuffing, a giant bowl of mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, three different types of casseroles, and some honey glazed carrots because Mac insisted we have a vegetable to go with our carbs.

Everyone begins taking their seats, and I try to ignore the two empty place settings next to Alex. I was holding out until the very last minute, hoping Kane and Kristen would show up. I start picking up their plates, and silverware, not wanting to look at the empty spots the entire dinner. Suddenly, the doorbell rings. I sit the stuff down, and stare at the door.

“Want me to go get that?” Alex asks, getting ready to stand from his chair.

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