Chapter 4 Kit
Kit
I was surprised to wake up in Devon’s arms. From the time we’d climbed under the covers, we’d acted like two friends at a sleep-over and barely touched each other. Not that I was complaining about being held like this. It felt wonderful.
A couple of minutes later, Devon snuggled even closer and murmured, “You’re so cuddly.” It was another minute before he woke up enough to open his eyes. When he realized he was totally wrapped around me, he let go and muttered, “Sorry. I’m like a giant octopus, arms everywhere.”
“It’s fine.”
He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. “It smells good in here.”
“My housemates have started cooking.”
“Oh, right. I almost forgot it’s Thanksgiving. Do you still want me to stay for dinner?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I turned into Handsy Octopus Boy in my sleep? Or maybe you generally regret ever having met me.”
That made me grin. “The dinner invitation definitely still stands, and I’m glad we’ll get to spend the day together.”
“Okay, good. I’m looking forward to it.” He got up and collected his clothes while I completely ogled his long, lean body. I quickly looked away when he turned to me and asked, “Can I take you out to breakfast? I’m totally useless without coffee.”
“My housemates and I share meals, so I’m sure there’s going to be coffee and plenty to eat in the kitchen. I just need a few minutes to get myself together.”
After we both took quick showers and got dressed, we went downstairs and discovered my entire household was in the kitchen. My landladies were having breakfast at the table, and the guys were all lined up at the counter, chopping mountains of vegetables.
When I called, “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my new friend Devon,” every single one of my housemates stopped what they were doing and turned to us with a delighted smile.
It was the first time I’d brought anyone home, and since we’d obviously spent the night together, it seemed they’d amended what I’d just said to “potential boyfriend.”
I felt myself coloring slightly, because being the center of attention was embarrassing. I said, “Devon, this is JoJo, Yolanda, Vee, Lark, and Dylan,” as I quickly gestured around the room.
There were greetings and welcomes all around, and Devon immediately turned on the charm, lighting up with a bright smile as he went around shaking hands and saying hello.
On the way to the coffee maker, I told my friends, “I invited Devon to join us for Thanksgiving dinner. I hope that’s alright.”
“Of course! There’s going to be plenty of food,” JoJo said.
“There’s actually going to be way too much,” Vee amended. “We’re approaching Vegas buffet levels of excess.”
“But that’s a good thing,” Lark said, “because Thanksgiving leftovers are awesome.”
While I poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Devon, Dylan told me, “Speaking of dinner, there’s a schedule on the fridge for the stoves and ovens. Your mac and cheese should go in at four forty-five, Kit, here in this kitchen.”
The schedule in question had been drawn up with multicolored markers and decorated with stickers, which told me Lark had a hand in it.
The highly organized part was pure Dylan.
It listed everything that needed to get cooked today and when, divvied up between our kitchen and the one belonging to Lark’s brother Logan.
I pulled my phone from the pocket of my red cardigan and set a reminder. “Got it. Can I help with whatever you’re making?”
“Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered,” Vee said. “Enjoy your coffee, and grab a muffin. Logan dropped off a bunch this morning, and there are only a few left. We’ve been tearing through them like a pack of hungry wolverines.”
We doctored up our coffee and decided to share a delicious-looking cranberry-orange muffin, because they were roughly the size of a softball. Then I led the way to the backyard. As we settled in side-by-side on a rattan loveseat, Devon said, “This garden is stunning.”
“I know. Dylan is studying landscape architecture, and he and his boyfriend Lark like to practice on this yard.”
“That was a lot of people to meet before coffee,” Devon said. “I have to admit, I’m hazy on which name went with which housemate.”
“Dylan is the tall, handsome Black guy. He’s a former firefighter, a truly kind person, and someone I’ve always admired.”
“Why’s that?”
I shrugged. “He just seems to have it all figured out. Yolanda’s like that, too—she’s the petite Latina with long, dark hair. She works as a nurse, and she and her wife JoJo own this house.”
I took a sip of coffee and continued, “JoJo, the curvy platinum blonde, is the housemate I admire the most, though. She’s an amazingly talented jewelry designer who turned her passion into a successful business.
She does some direct sales from her website, and she also sells her jewelry in fancy boutiques and museum gift shops. I think she’s incredible.”
“You should show me her website. I’d love to see what she makes.”
“I will. As for my last two housemates, the gorgeous South Asian guy in the tank top and cargo shorts is Vee. He’s awesome, really kind, funny, and outgoing.
And finally, the cute, short guy with dark hair and a rainbow T-shirt is Lark.
He’s very sweet. He and Dylan have been a couple forever, and they’re adorable together. ”
I took another sip of coffee and continued, “Then there are the off-shoots, or whatever you want to call them. Lark’s younger brother Logan used to live here in the pink Victorian, but now he lives there with his husband Lucky and their adorable son.
” I pointed at the pretty white house at the other end of the shared backyard.
“You’ll meet them soon. They’re joining us for dinner, and we’ve taken over their stove, oven, and part of their refrigerator for the day, since we’re cooking for a crowd. ”
“I can tell how much all of these people mean to you.”
“They’re wonderful, and this place is so special. Once you’ve lived here, you’re family for life, even if you move away. A lot of the people joining us for dinner are former residents, and no matter where life has taken them, they love coming home for the holidays.”
Devon asked, “Do you have a biological family too?”
“I have my dad.” I pulled out my phone and checked the time. “I’m going to call him in a few minutes, before he gets too busy.”
“What’s he doing today?”
“He owns a diner, and a lot of his regulars are senior citizens with no place to go for the holidays. So, every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, he puts together this big, free buffet for his staff, his customers, and anyone in the neighborhood who wants to join in the celebration.”
“He sounds like a wonderful guy.”
“He’s the best.”
That made Devon smile. “You light up when you talk about him.”
“I love him so much. He was only seventeen when he became a father, and he gave up everything for me. His girlfriend didn’t want to be a mom, so he took full custody and did his best to raise me.”
“That couldn’t have been easy for someone that young.”
“It wasn’t. We lived with my grandmother at first, and that helped, but she passed away when I was seven.
Things got a lot harder after that, and we ended up homeless for a while.
Even when we got back on our feet, it was tough to get by.
Dad couldn’t afford childcare, so I used to hang out at the diner every day after school, until he got off work. ”
Devon asked, “The same diner you just mentioned?”
I nodded. “He worked his way up, from busboy to line cook to assistant manager. When the previous owner retired three years ago, my dad bought the business. It was a real stretch financially. He’s up to his eyeballs in debt now, but it meant so much to him to be able to keep that place going. I just wish—”
My voice became so choked with emotion that I had to stop talking.
Devon took my hand and waited for me to continue.
Finally, I managed, “I wish I made enough money to be able to help him out. That’s the main reason I want my design business to succeed—for him, not for me.
He’s given me everything, and I dream of the day I’m able to give something back.
But that’s all it is right now, a dream.
Sometimes I worry that’s all it’ll ever be. ”
“Like I said last night, I want to help you get your design business off the ground. My job when I worked at my stepdad’s company was actually in marketing, and I was pretty good at it,” he said.
“It has to be a million times easier to market amazing clothes and a cute designer, instead of trying to make vinyl siding seem sexy.”
“I might take you up on that, because I suck at self-promotion. It’s an introvert’s worst nightmare.”
I had no idea if he was serious, or if he was the type of person to lose interest five minutes after coming up with an idea. But right now, Devon seemed excited. “This is going to be great,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll come up with all sorts of cool ideas.”
“Okay, but keep in mind that my marketing budget is zero dollars.”
“Not a problem. I can work wonders for free on social media.”
Before I could say anything else, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and said, “It’s a video call from my dad.”
“Do you want some privacy?”
I shook my head and answered the call with, “Hi Dad, happy Thanksgiving! You beat me to it, I was going to call you in a few minutes.”
“Hey, kiddo. I figured I’d call while there was a break in the action. I’ve got four dishes cooking and four more to go. Next up are the sweet potato casseroles.”
“How many people are you expecting?”
“Probably around sixty, but I’m cooking for eighty, just in case. Better to end up with too much food than not enough, and leftovers are part of the Thanksgiving tradition. Hopefully I can send everyone home with something.”
I heard the chime of a bell in the background, and when dad called out a greeting to someone I asked, “Is the diner open right now?”