Sweeter Than Fiction

Chapter Twenty-nine

Don

“You look beautiful,” I say to Abby with a quick kiss.

We are about to head out the door to go spend Thanksgiving with her family, and she looks nervous to the point of frantic.

“Thank you,” she says. I feel it’s more out of habit than actually paying attention to what I’m saying.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask.

“Hold on,” she mumbles. “I need one more thing.”

She disappears into the bathroom. I have no idea what she’s going to grab, but she comes back moments later, ready to leave.

I consider driving, but when I see the traffic on the street, I opt for us to just take a cab instead. Abby said it isn’t too terribly far, so hopefully, it will be a quick trip.

It takes a moment for one of the yellow taxis to stop, but once we are safely inside one, I put my arm around Abby in an attempt to calm her down a little.

I watch her flick a rubber band that’s on her wrist.

“What’s with that?” I ask, pointing to it.

“Something that my therapist suggested for any time I have to deal with my family. Every time they start taking jabs at me or making passive-aggressive comments, I flick this, and it distracts me. It helps with the anxiety that comes along with these visits.”

She already seems anxious. I would hate to see her without the rubber band.

“Do you think this is going to go badly?” I ask. “What did they say when you said you were bringing me?”

Her face scrunches up. “I may not have actually told them that you were coming.”

“Is there a reason why?”

“Oh, there are quite a few reasons why. One, my mother probably wouldn’t believe me. Two, I think you’re someone who is much better observed in person. And three, and the most important of all, I just didn’t want to talk to her.”

I kiss the side of her head. “Okay, beautiful.”

“They just don’t understand me. To be fair, I don’t understand them either. I am okay with that. And I don’t try to make them feel bad for the way that they are.”

“I have to ask, Abs. If things are so tense and awkward, why do you keep going home? I mean, it’s okay to distance people from your lives.”

She thinks for a minute while biting her fingernail. “They aren’t bad people. And I love them—my parents and my brothers both. And sometimes, we do get along and have fun. I tell myself that maybe sometimes, I’m just hypersensitive to things. Maybe I just overreact to things that they do or say. They probably don’t mean anything by it, but I just get my feelings hurt too easily.”

“Well, now you will have a third party here to let you know what it looks like from the outside.”

She gives a small nod, and I can tell she’s still inside her own head.

I lean in to whisper, “Let’s just get through today, and then, we can go back to your place, and I’ll make you come any way that you want.”

There’s that smile I’ve been waiting on.

Soon enough, we are knocking on the door to her parent’s brownstone. When the door opens, a tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes opens the door.

“Hi, Abigail,” he greets. “When are you going to realize that you don’t have to knock? It’s still your home too.”

It takes him a moment before he even notices me. “Oh, hello. I didn’t realize Abigail was bringing company.”

He steps aside and lets us through the doorway before I hold out my hand to introduce myself. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones. I’m Donovan.”

He shakes my hand with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Donovan. I’m Bill. Welcome to our home.”

He sets his hand on Abby’s shoulder in maybe the most awkward way imaginable. “It’s good to see you. How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” she replies.

I expect him to ask some follow-up questions, but nope. He just says, “That’s great,” and starts to lead us to what I assume is the kitchen.

Linking my fingers with Abby’s, I squeeze her hand to let her know I’m not going anywhere.

When we get in there, I see a woman standing in the kitchen. She is quite tall and thin with long blonde hair that hangs in loose curls. I see that she’s opening large carryout containers and dishing them out on plates. It looks like the typical Thanksgiving spread but made by some fancy restaurant.

Bill announces, “Look who’s here. And she brought someone.”

The woman looks up from what she’s doing toward me. Her eyes bounce back and forth between Abby and myself.

“Hello, Abigail,” she greets. “Who’s your friend?”

The way she says friend is extremely pointed as though she doesn’t believe Abby and I could possibly be more than that. I’m having none of that.

I step forward and hold out my hand, “I’m Donovan—Abby’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”

She looks gob-smacked. “You are dating our little Abby?”

“Sure am.”

But now she’s MY Abby.

“Well, that’s…great,” she says with a smile that I’m positive she’s faking. “I’m Dina.”

Bill decides it’s a good time to step in. “Sorry, Donovan. You’re the first boy that Abigail has ever brought home, so we are just trying to process this whole thing.”

Dina laughs. “Yeah, for the longest time, we thought she was a lesbian.”

I look down and see Abby flicking the rubber band on her wrist. I totally get why she needs it now. These people could be crowned the king and queen of passive aggressive.

Trying to change the subject, I say, “The food smells wonderful.”

“Oh, thank you,” Dina says. “I wish I could take credit, but we always order from Giordano’s. The clean up is just so much easier.”

A deep voice comes walking into the room, saying, “The one time of year that we want Mom to cook, and she orders in.”

He and another man come walking in, and I assume these are Abby’s two brothers. They both look just like their parents: tall, thin, and blonde. All of them look like they should be a teen movie about vampires.

Not only did Abby not fit in with them personality-wise, but she doesn’t look like them. Her hair is a much darker shade of blonde, and her eyes are brown, not blue. Oh, and she’s not six feet tall. She stands a good foot shorter than everyone in this room.

With her the way that she is, I think she’s beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. But I have a feeling that this whole family made her feel a certain type of way about her looks for her entire life.

Both of her brothers come over and give her hugs and greet her by ‘Abby’ rather than ‘Abigail.” They both shake my hand and introduce themselves as Adam and Austin.

They seem way more relaxed than their parents. Neither of them talk down to Abby or say anything that would make her uncomfortable.

But every time, they try to engage her in conversation, Dina slides in with another snide comment.

Austin asks, “So, how’d you two meet?”

When Abby replies that we are neighbors, Dina asks me, “Oh, so was it just a lack of options? She was just easy?”

I reply, “Actually, we started hanging out just as friends, and I quickly realized how awesome she is. I wasted no time in making her my girl.”

Dina purses her lips together like she doesn’t believe me, but quite frankly, I don’t give a shit if she does or not. I’m here to support Abby—not kiss this woman’s ass.

When we all sit down at the table and start passing around the food, Abby picks and chooses what she wants to eat, only dishing out a few things onto her plate.

Bill asks, “Is that all you”re going to eat, Abigail?”

Dina says, “Oh, you know her. She just picks at whatever you put in front of her. If it’s not chicken nuggets and peanut butter and jelly, she doesn’t want anything to do with it.”

Abby says, “Mom, I’m allergic to peanuts.”

“Whatever. You know what I mean. It’s rude to not eat.”

Austin then asks, “How’s work going, Abby?”

“It’s good. Just working on a new program I’ve been contracted for.”

He smiles. “That’s awesome.”

Dina butts in again. “I can’t imagine that working from home can be good for you. You need to get out of the house more often.”

Now, it’s my turn to step in. “We get out plenty.”

Sure, it’s not entirely true. But me saying, “We opt to stay in so that I can give your daughter countless orgasms,” seems like it would be uncalled for.

Once again, I try to get the spotlight off of us, so I spend a few minutes asking each of her brothers questions getting to know them better. One of them is a lawyer and one of them is a doctor. I’m surprised that neither one of them has a family of their own yet since they’re older than Abby. I’m guessing they’re in their mid to late thirties.

But I don’t say that.

Because that would be rude.

Something that this family clearly doesn’t give a shit about.

I’m so good at deflecting that I manage to keep the conversation off of us for the rest of the meal.

Adam stands up to clear the table, and I decide to help. Although I’m not keen on leaving Abby alone, I know the sooner we get everything wrapped up, the sooner we can leave.

As we are stacking plates in the sink, he says, “I’m glad Abby finally found someone. I know she doesn’t get out much, so I’m happy she found someone who makes her happy.”

He doesn’t say it in a way where he acts like he feels sorry for her or thinks that it’s weird. He just sounds like a brother who is worried about his sister.

He adds, “I wish we got to see her more.”

“I think she sometimes doesn’t come around because things can get a bit awkward. She feels out of place.”

“Yeah, our mother sometimes has quite the way with words. Austin and I have always known Abby was a little different. But we still love her and think she’s awesome.”

“Adam, I think sometimes, maybe it would be nice for her to hear that. She feels like an outsider in her own family. I think if she knew that you and Austin were on her side a bit more, these family functions wouldn’t seem so daunting.”

He smiles and nods. Before he can say anything else, Dina joins us in the kitchen.

“So, Donovan,” she croons. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a construction manager.”

“Ooohh, very nice. I have to say that I’m a little surprised that somebody like you would be into our dear Abigail.”

She says the word dear like it’s some type of insult.

“Why are you surprised?”

“Oh, you know—she’s just so mousy and kind of weird.”

Adam tries to stop her. “Mom…”

But she’s having none of it. “Look, I love her. She’s my daughter. But I just think that maybe you’re expecting her to be something that she’s not. She’s never going to be a gorgeous starlet that you can take out on the town. Her brain doesn’t always allow for normal things.”

What kind of women does this lady think I’m into?

“Enough,” I begin. “Look, I get that you have this view of your daughter—as skewed as it may be—but that’s not how I see your daughter at all.”

She crosses her arms over his chest. “And how do you see her? As someone you can take advantage of? As someone who makes you feel better about yourself?”

“Not at all. I see a woman who has a kick-ass career that she makes a good living off of. I see a woman who fights every day to get over her anxiety and fears. I see a beautiful woman who has a huge heart who I would do absolutely anything for.” The more I talk, the more heated I feel myself getting. “She lights up my world, and I treasure every moment that I get to spend with her. Dina, I’m in love with your daughter.”

At this exact moment, Abby appears in the doorway, clearly hearing every word that I just said. She looks at her mom, staring daggers through her.

Even though she faces her mom, her words are pointed at me, “Are you ready to go? I think I’ve had about enough.”

“Yeah, beautiful. Let’s go.”