Chapter Fifteen #2
“Anyway.” Aubrey plunked his wineglass down on the counter with emphasis.
“We should eat something, because that turkey is starting to smell incredible, and my stomach is telling me that the Corn Pops were not a sufficient base to layer wine on top of. And then we should make a plan to deal with all of that.” He gestured to indicate the cornucopia of vegetables on the counter. “Because we still have work to do.”
“I see your point.” Nate’s stomach growled again. “Let’s see what I can come up with.”
In the end they resorted to breaking into the charcuterie board Nate had ordered as an appetizer, because neither of them felt like fast food or freezer meals.
“Oh my God, this mustard,” Aubrey enthused as he spread a thick layer on a baguette and topped it with a chunk of cured pork.
“We could just eat all this and skip dinner.” Nate eyed the platter, then chose a delicate pickle to pair with his manchego.
“Fuck you. I didn’t peel every potato on earth for nothing.” Aubrey snagged the last pickle. Oops. Nate had meant to save some of those for his parents. Oh well; if they ate all of them, his parents would never know they’d missed out. “Besides, potato pancakes.”
“You’re very fixated on the pancakes.”
Aubrey shook the pickle at him and then popped it in his mouth. “I’m goal-oriented.”
Nate’s ears warmed. He was very aware of how goal-oriented Aubrey could be. “Yeah, I know.”
Their eyes met across the table, and he could tell Aubrey knew exactly what he was thinking—and that Aubrey was thinking it too. Nate’s parents probably wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half. And they already knew Nate and Aubrey were sleeping together.
Nate licked his lips. They’d finished the bottle of wine, and now he was feeling a little parched. Should they open the other bottle? Or just—fall into bed again and—no, that was a bad idea. Nate needed to process his emotions instead of his biological urges—
The timer dinged.
“Shit. I’m supposed to baste the turkey.”
The corner of Aubrey’s mouth quirked up. “No comment.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“Your mom thinks so.”
Nate rolled his eyes and went to attend to the bird.
They never did open the second bottle.
With Aubrey’s help, he managed to get everything ready for a respectable five thirty mealtime.
At quarter to five, Aubrey slipped upstairs to shower and change just as Nate’s parents came in, pink-cheeked and laughing.
Nate had just enough sense to be glad Aubrey had thrown his apron in Nate’s laundry pile.
His mom didn’t need an excuse to make any more embarrassing insinuations, no matter how warranted.
Aubrey showered and shaved and spent the time it took to dry his hair considering his wardrobe for the most appropriate first-Thanksgiving-with-boyfriend’s-parents outfit.
It was stupid, and it wouldn’t really matter what he wore, but if he wore a comfortable sweatshirt with holes in it, at least he’d be wearing a physical reminder of the truth.
But he wouldn’t disrespect Nate’s parents like that, and even Nate didn’t really deserve it.
He didn’t know he’d hurt Aubrey by asking him to play-act a scenario he longed to be real.
So he chose nicely tailored jeans and a button-down shirt in a deep iridescent blue and packed a few more bottles of wine in a cloth bag to bring downstairs. “Just in case,” he said at the door as he nearly ran into Nate, who stepped aside to let him in.
“I see you were concerned about the dangers of holiday sobriety,” Nate’s dad said dryly.
No, I just thought a little social lubrication might help me get through this with my heart only somewhat bruised. Aubrey smiled gamely and handed him the bag so he could take his shoes off. “I need a glass or two to forget it’s not October.”
He was about to ask if Nate needed help setting the table, but then he realized Nate was still waiting by the door. Before he could ask why, the elevator arrived and a young woman stepped out with a small white box. She saw Nate peering out the door and smiled. “Nate Overton?”
“Thank you so much for delivering last minute.” Nate smiled and took the box.
What had Nate forgotten? Had he ordered a replacement for the charcuterie they’d eaten?
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
Was that a hundred-dollar bill?
“No problem.” The girl beamed. “Enjoy your pie!”
Aubrey caught a whiff of warm cinnamon and nutmeg. As he turned back toward the apartment, he briefly met Nate’s eyes.
Nate flushed and turned away, and Aubrey’s face went hot. “Well.” Nate cleared his throat. “Dinner’s on. Let’s eat.”
While Aubrey was upstairs, Nate had moved everything into serving dishes and set the table, including a nice set of lit candlesticks. He’d set out the second bottle of wine Aubrey had brought earlier. If not for his parents’ presence, it would’ve felt like a romantic gesture.
As they sat around the table, Aubrey looked for a cue as to whether they’d be saying grace.
Nate had mentioned his parents were not particularly religious, but once they were all settled around the table, Nate’s mom reached out to either side—to Aubrey on one side and Nate on the other—and grasped their hands.
“I know it’s a cliché, but I’d like us to take a moment”—oh no—“and say what we’re thankful for.”
Nate blanched. “Mom,” he protested. “You can’t just spring that on Aubrey when he just met you a couple of days ago.”
“Oh, honestly, Nate. He doesn’t have to say anything about you.” Diane shook her head at him and turned to Aubrey. “You don’t, dear. It’s plain for anyone to see how thankful you are for each other. It would be cheating.”
Aubrey wanted to crawl under the table. “Right,” he croaked.
Fucking help me, he tried to tell Nate with his eyes.
Sorry, every man for himself, he imagined Nate replying.
“Diane,” Elliot broke in, “don’t you think you’re going to scare him off? They’ve only been dating a little while.”
“I walked in on him naked before we were introduced,” Diane said. Nate beat Aubrey to the wine bottle. “If he hasn’t run screaming by now, I think he’ll be fine. Anyway, I’ll go first.”
Thank God for twist-offs, Aubrey thought as Nate filled his glass. He continued filling while his mom spoke.
“This year I am thankful for my health and my family’s health. For my sweet, adorable first grandchild.”
Nate and Aubrey locked eyes. Nate filled his glass three-quarters full and then moved on to the next one.
“I’m thankful for homemade meals.” Nate finished her pour, and she raised her glass. “And store-bought wine.”
Aubrey laughed, grabbing his own, and Diane said, “Your turn, Elliot.”
Elliot gamely took his wineglass from Nate.
“Well, I am thankful for my wonderful wife and her sense of humor, and for my son and his exciting second career as a TV personality, and that my daughter and Jurgen have settled in the States where I can keep an eye on them.” Nate had told Aubrey that Emily and her husband used to be with Doctors Without Borders.
Which brought them to Nate.
He cleared his throat. “Okay. I am grateful for… new opportunities.” He didn’t glance at Aubrey, looking instead at a spot in front of Aubrey’s plate. Fair enough. Aubrey wasn’t exactly comfortable being put on the spot like this either. But this had been Nate’s idea.
When it became apparent Nate wasn’t going to continue, everyone turned to Aubrey.
Thank God he was used to performing under pressure.
Besides, Aubrey knew the most convincing lies were the ones with a shred of truth.
“Second chances,” he said. With his mother, with Jess and the show.
If he was lucky, with Nate… though by now that might be a third chance.
“And second impressions,” he added after a beat.
Nate groaned, but Diane threw her head back laughing, and Elliot raised his glass.
“Cheers,” Diane said.
They all touched glasses.
Apparently Nate and Aubrey’s chemistry was as good in the kitchen as it was in the bedroom and the studio.
Conversation over dinner was mild and pleasant and didn’t at all make Aubrey want to stage a freak accident with the carving knife just to escape.
But the wholesomeness of it carried a different kind of hurt.
His own family dinners had never felt like this.
When he was very young, they’d been nice enough, but were they close?
The specifics of his younger years were lost on him, and by the time he was twelve, the rift between him and his parents felt insurmountable.
But maybe it wasn’t.
Maybe things with Nate weren’t either.