Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lacey pulled at the hem of her plaid skirt, unable to stop fidgeting with it.
Thanksgiving with Sam and his friends had seemed like a decent idea when he’d proposed it. An easy way to prove to everyone that they were Definitely A Couple. Except her stomach was doing its best impression of the rock tumbler she’d had in elementary school.
Was she underdressed? Eloise never looked anything other than immaculate, like she was headed to a photoshoot highlighting quiet luxury, and Lacey worried that her plaid skirt and black sweater wouldn’t be up to par. She’d never been to a fancy Thanksgiving before. On the other side of the same coin was the fear that she was overdressed and today was the day she’d see Eloise Thatcher in an extra-stretchy tracksuit.
She could’ve asked Sam, but his brain was full of turkey. He’d been preparing all week, making homemade vegetable stock for the brine and chicken broth to roast the turkey. Lacey wasn’t sure what any of that had to do with turkey, but Sam was very adamant it was necessary. He’d bought the biggest turkey she’d ever seen from a nearby farm, and on the drive to pick it up, Sam explained the special way those particular turkeys were raised in great detail. It was the most she’d ever heard him talk without someone else adding to the conversation. The way home was all about brining and roasting methods. She’d contributed approximately three words that weren’t “Oh, wow” or “Really?”
They’d been spending a lot of time together since she’d recovered from her twenty-four-hour flu bug. Sam either came into town to have lunch with Lacey, or she drove to his house after work to have dinner. For Daisy’s sake. No one wanted a repeat of the sad dog episode. So they’d watch TV or a movie, and then sometimes Lacey would be too tired to drive home, so she’d spend the night in Sam’s bed, with Daisy tucked between them like the world’s snuggliest barrier.
They hadn’t talked about what had happened on their date. Sam had vaguely warned her he was “going to get her back,” but nothing had come to fruition. It had wrecked her peace for the rest of the movie. Every time Sam so much as shifted in his seat, she thought something was going to happen, that he’d sink to his knees in front of her, hide under her skirt, and bury his face in her pussy. Or when his hand ended up in her lap she initially thought he was going to finger her, but he just wanted to hold her hand. Which was sweet, but not an orgasm.
She’d thought about pressing the issue, thought about walking into his room naked sometime to see what he’d do about it. But she wanted it to go both ways. It was like they were locked in a horny chess game—it was Sam’s turn to move, but he kept picking up pieces only to put them down again, and she was about ready to flip the board.
There were cars lined up along the sidewalk in front of Graham and Eloise’s storybook Victorian home. Sam pulled into the last remaining spot in the driveway.
“I thought everyone wasn’t coming until later?” Lacey said, recognizing Chris McMahon’s truck as one of the vehicles on the street. The rocks tumbling in her stomach picked up speed.
Sam shifted into park. “Slight change in plans. Bitsy McMahon had an appendectomy on Tuesday and didn’t feel like cooking anymore, so everyone is hanging out.”
Lacey frowned. “They’re not cooking for her?”
“The McMahon boys were told to get the hell out of the house because they were smothering her.” Sam shrugged. “Bitsy said she wanted peace, quiet, and soup.”
“She doesn’t feel abandoned?”
Sam laughed. “I think Bitsy’s Christmas wish is to feel more abandoned by her sons.”
This fit with what Lacey knew about the McMahon matriarch. Three of her five adult sons lived at home, and she wasn’t subtle about trying to set them up with potential partners in a bid to get them to move out or at least move on.
“Are you nervous?” Sam asked. Lacey nodded. “Don’t be. Annie loves you, so Jordy will love you because he agrees with everything Annie says. Peter is going to talk your ear off. I’m sorry I can’t stop that from happening. Graham is the most like me, so don’t take it personally if he says three words to you. Eloise will likely be in anxious hostess mode. You’ve met Sybil, and Mallory, and the McMahons. You’re going to be fine.” He leaned across the car and kissed her forehead. “You can always come hide in the kitchen with me.”
Lacey wanted to stay in the car forever, getting little forehead kisses and pep talks.
“I know it’s all fake, but I really do want them to like me,” she confessed.
“They’re going to like you, and it’s going to make my life hell when you leave me.”
When she left. Not if. When .
That four-letter word hurt like she’d slammed her finger in the car door.
Daisy pushed her muzzle between them, and then her entire head, one of her panting smiles stretched across her adorable face. If everyone wanted to meet the girl who had stolen Sam’s heart, they would. She had four legs and was freshly groomed.
“You ready to meet your aunts and uncles?” Lacey asked, adjusting the autumn leaf sailor bow she’d made for Daisy’s collar. It was festive without being turkey legs or pumpkin pie.
“Can you walk Daisy in, and I’ll bring the turkey?” Sam asked.
It was a testament to Sam’s control issues that he hadn’t brined and stored the turkey at the Thatchers’ house. No, the entire process had happened at his house, and he had lugged everything into town from the woods like a tightly wound pioneer. The only person he even allowed to contribute was Connor, and he was only in charge of pie and rolls. Lacey had dubbed him “The Carb King.”
“You don’t need help with the rest of your bounty?”
“Lugging things is why God gave the McMahons such broad shoulders.”
Lacey laughed and got out of the car. She opened the back door and used her body to block Daisy from jumping out. At home, they let her roam off lead within reason, but in an unfamiliar neighborhood, Lacey was worried their dog might take off.
And there she went again, thinking of Sam’s house as her house and his dog as their dog. She’d confused Annie a few times recently because she used “home” interchangeably between Gavin and Leo’s house and Sam’s house. It was her childhood all over again, shuttling between houses, calling each home, but everything feeling temporary. At least she knew this was temporary. Would Sam let her walk away as easily as her dad had when she’d decided at thirteen she didn’t want to stay at his house anymore?
Lacey clipped Daisy’s lead to her collar, mentally shaking off the Holiday Melancholies the same way Daisy shook rain out of her coat.
“Let’s go, Daisy,” she said cheerfully, walking the dog up to the front door. Was she supposed to knock? Ring the bell? Walk right on in like she’d been invited and not Sam’s tacked-on plus one?
The decision was made for her as the door flung open. Lacey jumped backward as Annie lunged forward to hug her. It took some creative footwork to keep them both upright.
From the corner of her eye, Lacey saw a few spying heads disappear from a front window.
“You’re here!” Annie exclaimed, finally succeeding in wrapping her arms around Lacey.
“Of course I am,” Lacey said, hugging her back. “I was loosely invited.”
“You’re also late!” Graham called from inside the foyer, then appeared in the doorway. “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought Sam was out here too.”
“He’s getting the turkey,” Lacey explained. “I don’t think we’re that late.”
Annie squatted down to greet Daisy, giving her all the head scratches and ear rubs the dog thought she deserved and pretended she’d been deprived of. Daisy was a con artist for love, and Lacey respected that.
“Graham and Eloise have a timetable,” Annie said. “You’ve thrown off their groove, so to speak.”
Sam came up the steps carrying the turkey in its roasting pan and cut Graham off before he could speak.
“We’re not that late, and you should’ve accounted for this in whatever spreadsheet you made for foreplay.”
Graham blushed. Lacey was going to have to interrogate Sam about that little jab later.
“Did you preheat the oven?” Sam asked as he stepped inside.
“Yes. It’s been warming for at least half an hour, as instructed, chef.”
Graham said “chef” with such dry sarcasm that Lacey had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. But when Daisy noticed Sam carrying a lot of meat and abandoned pets for food she was never going to get from her overprotective daddy, Lacey did laugh.
“She’s an optimistic opportunist,” Lacey explained to Annie, who looked a little miffed as to why the dog had left. “When did you get in?”
“Late last night. I slept until nine, which felt like noon.” Annie linked her arm with Lacey’s and they walked inside. “Jordy has fully embraced his retired old man era, so he got up at seven, read the paper, did his PT exercises, drank a cup of coffee, took a shower, made me a cup of coffee, and then woke me up by calling me sleepyhead.”
“Give that man some babies so he can be a grandpa already.”
Annie smiled fondly. “Someday. Soon. Maybe after we’ve been together for a year.”
Lacey raised her eyebrows. “You’ve actually thought about having his babies?”
“I’ve been thinking about having his babies since I met him. Jordy awakens some very primal, populate-the-Earth instinctive urges in me.” Annie squeezed Lacey’s arm. “Have I ever told you how nice it is that I can overshare with you? ”
“The feeling is mutual. ‘We overshare because we care’ should be the Extra Donut slogan.”
A squadron of McMahons filed out the door to Sam’s car.
“Does Jordy actually read the paper?” Lacey asked, a bit dubious based on what she knew about Jordy Taylor from the media and from some anecdotal stories from Annie.
Annie grinned. “He skims it, but he’s really looking for the sports section and the cartoons.”
“That sounds more like it.”
“It’s cute, though,” Annie clarified, and Lacey knew she was in the presence of a woman deeply in love. She glowed when she talked about Jordy. Positively beamed. The warmth that radiated off of her made Lacey want to sweat. It made her long for that kind of security.
Had Lacey ever felt that secure in a relationship?
No, she didn’t think she had.
“Coming through!” a McMahon announced from behind them, and Annie and Lacey quickly moved to the side. It was Chase, carrying one of the boxes of food Sam had organized in the trunk. Cole and Connor followed with more boxes, and Chris brought up the rear, carrying Daisy’s bowls and the special Thanksgiving meal Sam had prepared for her. Lacey had been outwardly laughing but inwardly swooning. The way Sam cared for Daisy gave her the closest thing she’d ever had to baby fever, except instead of children, she wanted to have twenty more dogs with him.
“What’s going on?”
Lacey and Annie both jumped. Sybil Morgan stood behind them in the entryway to the dining room.
Annie put her hand on her chest. “Graham was right. You need a bell.”
Sybil looked at them blankly, so Lacey answered the question. “We were watching the Thanksgiving parade. ”
The corner of Sybil’s mouth twitched, almost spreading into a smile, and Lacey chalked that up as a win. It was the closest she’d ever come to making her smile.
“If we wait, maybe we’ll see Snoopy,” Lacey said, really pushing for even a smirk. No such luck. Sybil quickly walked away, heading deeper into the house.
Lacey looked at Annie. “Was it something I said?”
A hand touched Lacey’s shoulder, and she turned to see who it was. She was face-to-face with Peter Green.
“Jesus Christ, you’re prettier in person,” she blurted.
Peter Green—how was it humanly possible that Peter Green was touching her?—smiled warmly. Lacey was pretty sure she’d seen everything he’d ever been in. She’d even seen him on Broadway when they were both a lot younger. It was surreal to be this close to him.
“You must be Lacey,” he said. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Liar , Lacey thought. She doubted Sam had said more than three words about her. Those three words were probably “She’s named Lacey.” But she wasn’t going to call him out over it. He was being nice and she couldn’t afford to alienate anyone who was being nice to her.
“I am. It’s weird to finally meet you.” She heard Annie choke on a laugh and her words filtered back to her. “Not weird. Nice. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“And a little weird,” Peter said with a conspiratorial wink.
“It’s just that I’ve watched you forever—in movies!” If her foot got any further in her mouth it was going to choke her. She looked at Annie and mouthed, “Help me.”
“Peter, this is Daisy.” Annie flourished a hand downward to where Daisy was sitting patiently at Lacey’s feet waiting to be adored. “Daisy, this is your uncle Peter.”
Peter didn’t crouch or kneel. He sat cross-legged on the floor to shower Daisy with the affection the spoiled dog had come to expect. It was a good thing Peter was single, because any partner would’ve been incredibly jealous listening to him talk.
“Thank you,” Lacey whispered to Annie. “I was on a road to ruin.”
“Oh, honey.” Annie patted her arm sympathetically. “You were already downtown after getting a speeding ticket.”
“So,” Peter said from the floor, Daisy laying across his lap, “are things serious? I mean, you got a dog together.”
Heat rushed to Lacey’s face.
“Um…well, I found her and she’s more Sam’s dog and…it hasn’t really been that long…”
“How did you meet?”
Lacey was glad for an easy question. “The first time was in Barcelona when he was on tour. The second time was during a dance lesson.”
Peter’s petting hands still. “You met him in Barcelona? Spain? On tour?”
“Yes?” Lacey didn’t know why she’d answered like she wasn’t certain.
Peter frowned a little. “I thought you had dark hair.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the girl he wrote the song about, right? It’s just when he was explaining it, he said you had dark hair.”
“It was dark at one point. I like to dye it,” Lacey explained, still confused. “What song are you talking about?”
“‘Barcelona,’” Peter said like she’d known for years. “It’s such a beautiful song. I wonder if Sam will finally understand it now that you’ve reconnected.”
The room didn’t spin or tilt, but it was dangerously close. It reminded Lacey of jumping on one of those playground merry-go-rounds after pushing it as fast as her legs could carry her. Off kilter. That was it.
It really was about her. There was every chance Peter was mistaken, but the odds were in his favor. The first time Lacey had heard the song, she’d spent the rest of the day convincing herself it wasn’t about her. It could be about anyone; it was probably about his ex-fiancée. That’s what she’d told herself. And she’d believed herself readily.
Ironically, Lacey had auditioned for the music video. She’d made it far too, before the director decided she was too tall and not Sam’s type anyway.
“What do you think it’s about?” Lacey asked, forcing herself to keep her body relaxed.
A soft smile crinkled the corners of Peter’s eyes. “It’s about instant connection. About that moment when you meet someone and reality pauses and only you two exist. How you then feel like you’ve known that person your whole life, like they’re able to look through the keyhole to your soul.” He scratched Daisy under her chin. “He’s always so miffed about it being used as a wedding song, but it makes perfect sense to me. It’s the most romantic thing he’s ever written.”
Lacey wanted to disagree, to say the song was about how she’d tongued Sam’s asshole, not about an instant romance, but Peter made sense. It was his voice. The shadow of a British accent made him sound like an expert.
Peter rubbed Daisy’s chest. “Have you thought about making her a therapy dog?”
And just like that he’d moved on. Lacey understood and appreciated the jump his brain had made.
“Currently her caseload is full with me and Sam,” Lacey half joked. “I think she’s relieved when we leave the house so she can get a break.”
“She’s a very good girl,” Peter cooed.
Eloise Thatcher breezed down the hallway like a woman on a mission, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors. In her hands were a thick stack of rust-colored napkins.
“Peter.” She sighed, exasperated. In her green dress and pearls, Eloise looked and sounded like a frazzled ’50s housewife. “Do you have to sit in the middle of the floor?”
Peter pointed to Daisy. “There’s a dog in my lap. Have you met Daisy?”
“Yes. Please move out of the walkway before someone trips on you. I don’t think we have enough insurance to pay for you if anything gets broken.” Eloise shook her head. “If a McMahon fell on you…”
“Okay, okay.” Peter gently removed Daisy from his lap and stood up, brushing any dog hair off his trousers. He eyed the napkins Eloise was holding. “Would you like me to take care of those?”
“I can do it,” she said, holding them closer to her body.
“Eloise,” Peter said gently, like he was talking to a skittish horse, “they’re napkins. I think I can handle napkins. I can’t even break them if I drop them.”
Eloise hesitated for a moment, then passed him the stack. “Let me show you what I want.”
The pair went into the dining room. There was a commotion deeper in the house that ended with a resounding bellow from Sam for everyone to get out of the kitchen. The group exited like clowns from a Volkswagen Beetle, splintering off in different directions.
Jordy beelined for Annie like he was attached to her by a retractable string.
“Does he ever let you help in the kitchen?” he asked, putting an arm around Annie’s waist.
“I was allowed to hold the can opener once,” Lacey said with an upbeat smile, even though everything was still moving too fast for her to make sense of it. “Mostly I sit on the counter and talk to him.”
“I don’t think it would have the same effect if I did that.” Jordy grinned at Annie, and Lacey would’ve sworn an unsaid joke passed between them. They were sickeningly cute. She should be taking notes.
“You never know unless you try,” Lacey said. “I’ll let you borrow my skirt so you can show a little leg.”
Jordy laughed.
“She’s funny,” he said to Annie.
“She’s fucking hysterical,” Annie confirmed. “Wait until she actually gets going. This is a warmup.” She put a hand on his chest. “Did you know you’re part of the Holy Trinity of Fuck Boys?”
“The holy what-now?”
“Actors, musicians, professional athletes,” Annie and Lacey said in unison, making the sign of the cross as they did so.
Jordy laughed again. “You should do standup.”
“No way.” Lacey shook her head. “That shit is hard.”
“What are your life goals?” Jordy asked.
“Um…”
Lacey was saved by Eloise.
“Jordy, leave her alone,” she chastised, joining the group. “At least wait to interrogate her until dinner so she doesn’t have to repeat herself.” Eloise smiled at Lacey. “We’re so happy you could make it. Can I get you anything to drink? Wine? Water? Hard liquor directly from the bottle?”
“Water would be good.”
As a group they began to migrate away from the dining room. Lacey spared a glance over her shoulder at Peter. He was supposed to be folding napkins, but she saw him pick up a place card, walk around the table, and swap it with another place card. Hopefully Eloise wouldn’t have a conniption that he had tampered with her carefully arranged seating plan.
Eloise poured Lacey a glass of water from a pitcher on a sideboard in the hall, making pleasant small talk the entire time. She asked the usual questions, and Lacey gave the nice, polite, filtered answers. Nothing that would get a response of “I’m so sorry” or “That must have been hard.” Where did she grow up? Pittsburgh. When did she start dancing? When she was three.
Over Eloise’s shoulder, Lacey saw Peter leave the dining room. A minute later, Sybil entered for thirty seconds, then left. No sooner was Sybil out of sight then Peter re-entered the dining room for roughly thirty seconds, then left. While Lacey spoke briefly about her time working on cruise ships, Sybil scurried back into the dining room. Lacey wanted to know what was going on, but there was no way in hell she was going to ask Sybil.
“What’s going on over here?”
Lacey jumped, water sloshing over the rim of her glass and onto her sweater. She’d been so engrossed in watching Sybil and Peter run in and out of the dining room that she hadn’t noticed Chase McMahon join their little group.
“Getting to know Lacey,” Eloise said. “Did you know she used to work on cruise ships?”
“So you’re a pirate.” Chase grinned. “You know, if I’d known you were still talking to men at all after dating Mitch, I might’ve tossed my hat in the ring.”
Sybil appeared at his elbow and, like an avenging angel, smacked Chase upside the back of his head.
“She’s dating your friend. Keep it to yourself.”
“Ow.” Chase rubbed the back of his head but seemed unfazed. “I was just saying…”
“Stop saying,” Sybil looked at Lacey, and Lacey fought the urge to duck behind Jordy for cover. “Ignore him. I do. ”
“It’s why I’m so attention-seeking.” Chase grinned. “So is there a reason we’re all standing in the hall when there’s a perfectly good football game about to start?”
“Because not everyone gives a shit about football?” Sybil suggested.
“That’s because you’ve never had the game explained to you by a professional,” Chase said, patting Jordy’s shoulder. “It will completely change the way you watch the game.”
Sybil’s expression didn’t shift a centimeter. “And yet I remain uninterested.”
“I could be persuaded to be interested in football,” Lacey offered with a please-love-me smile. Jordy was Sam’s best friend, so she was a bit desperate to win him over and absolutely refused to examine why she was so desperate to win him over.
“You don’t have to be,” Jordy said diplomatically, “but I would like to watch the game…” The tentative request was directed at Annie, who seemed entirely oblivious he might need her permission.
“Why are you looking at me like we don’t watch football all the time? Of course we can watch the game. It’s Thanksgiving. I think there’s a law about it, at least in the south.”
The small group moved toward the living room, and Annie hung back with Lacey on the outer edge.
“The Phantoms aren’t playing, so Jordy should be moderately well behaved.” There was a twinkle in Annie’s eyes as she said it.
“Is he having a hard time moving on?” Lacey asked. Jordy Taylor’s retirement had happened abruptly after a motorcycle crash early in the season, and she knew she wasn’t the only person curious if the legendary quarterback’s cheerful press appearances matched his demeanor at home.
Annie shook her head. “Not really. I was worried he’d regret it pretty quickly, but he tells me all the time that this is the happiest he’s ever been.”
If Lacey had said that same sentence, she would have been smug as hell. This was why Annie was a better person. She was humble and a tiny bit clueless that she was why her boyfriend was happy to give up his career to wait for her at home.
The missing McMahons—Connor, Chris, and Cole—were in the living room, along with Mallory Morgan. Daisy, who’d wandered off the second Lacey let go of her leash, had her head resting in Cole’s lap, looking at him lovingly as he pretended he wasn’t feeding her small bites of cheese every time Chris looked away. It was something she and Daisy had in common; the quickest way to their hearts was through their stomachs.
Guilt needled her. Sam was all alone in the kitchen, cooking away, and they were all watching football. Sure, he’d yelled at everyone else to get out, but it didn’t seem fair. These were his friends. He should be out here, and she should be in the kitchen stressing about side dishes and turkey temperatures. But given his dedication to the selection of the bird, she’d probably need a crowbar to pry him out of the kitchen.
She’d watch a little of the game, then go check on Sam. That seemed fair.
Except Sam’s friends, his little makeshift family, were entertaining to the point of distraction. The McMahon boys and the Morgan sisters bet on everything and anything with cutthroat intensity. The football game alone wasn’t enough; they bet on which commercials would come on next and what the announcers were going to say. It was a good thing they hadn’t turned it into a drinking game, because Mallory was cleaning up on the word “penetration.”
Jordy talked to the TV like the players could hear him.
“If you’d run your fucking routes, you’d get more targets, Barlowe. For fuck’s sake.” Jordy shook his head. “He does shit like this and wonders why the Phantoms traded him.”
Lacey leaned over to Annie. “What is he talking about?” she whispered.
“A route is the path a receiver is supposed to run to get open,” Annie explained. “From what I’ve gathered, Barlowe used to be on the Phantoms, and Jordy stopped throwing to him because he was never where he was supposed to be.”
Mallory was making piles of money on the coffee table. “Fast food.” She touched one stack. “Laundry. Dishes. Car. Pharmaceuticals.” She touched every additional pile as she named the category. “Does anyone want to get more specific?”
Connor put a five-dollar bill on fast food and then another five above it. “Taco Bell commercial.”
Mallory stacked her money on top of his. “Wendy’s.”
Money went onto the table. Cole and Chris each had money on it being a car commercial, but Cole said Subaru and Chris said Ford. Chase picked pharmaceuticals, and no one was shocked when he said it would be for erectile dysfunction.
“The way you keep picking that is making me suspicious,” Sybil said, putting a five down on dishes, but refused to get more in depth.
“It has to work eventually,” Chase reasoned.
“Does Bitsy let you all gamble like this?” Graham asked, nursing an old fashioned on the couch with one arm casually around his wife.
“Hell no,” Mallory said, making notes of the different bets. “But this is how we run things when she isn’t looking.”
“And Greg is okay with that?”
“He pretends he doesn’t see a damn thing.” Mallory put her notes down on the table to signify betting had ended.
“I feel like we’re aiding and abetting a pack of teens,” Graham said to Eloise, who smiled softly at him and stroked his cheek.
“That’s because you’re eighty-five on the inside,” she told him, then kissed his cheek.
Mallory cheered when the Wendy’s commercial started and scooped up the money on the table.
“I feel like you’re cheating,” Connor said with a stormy frown.
“It’s a live feed, and they do not publish the order of commercials beforehand.” Mallory counted her winnings.
“Did you check?” Sybil asked.
“It’s called using your resources. You have access to Google too.” Mallory handed Sybil one of her five-dollar bills. “For correctly guessing that Connor would accuse me of cheating at some point tonight.”
“Should’ve bet twenty,” Sybil said. “That was like betting on the sky being blue.”
“Yeah, but it’s not always blue. Remember that really bad wildfire when it was orange?” Cole reminded them. “Imagine betting on the sky being blue and waking up to that.”
“That would be my luck,” Chris groaned. From what Lacey had seen, Chris should never visit Las Vegas or Reno. In fact, he should avoid Atlantic City while he was at it. The casinos would bleed him dry in a matter of hours with his luck.
Time moved in strange ways. Because Lacey was more interested in the side bets happening than the game, the first half was over before she knew what had happened. And the halftime report started a strange lightning round of betting that she couldn’t look away from. They were well into the third quarter before she could move herself off the couch.
“I’m going to check on Sam,” Lacey told Annie.
“Be careful,” Graham warned. “He bites.”
“I know,” she said, then blushed because she did know.