29. Nolan #2
She stirs another bowl, giving me a sideways glance that reveals she’s feeling a little uncertain. Nervous. “I know you were kind of bummed about missing Thanksgiving at home, so I thought it might be fun to have a non-Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving.”
“A brunch Friendsgiving,” Hannah says.
My gaze is still trained on Hadley though, waiting for her to meet my stare.
Finally, she does and it’s as though recognition snaps into place that this girl was put here for me to find.
I know it in my bones—in my soul—because being around her makes me feel a sense of completeness and wholeness I’ve never known.
It’s exhilarating.
It’s fucking terrifying.
“This is the best idea. Thank you.”
She smiles, turning back to the bowl in front of her.
“Since we’re celebrating an early Thanksgiving, does that mean we can set up the Christmas tree this week?” Katie asks.
“Yes!” Hannah exclaims. “I need all the holiday cheer and spiked eggnog I can get my hands on.”
“Eggnog?” Katie cringes.
“Don’t even start,” Hannah says, holding up a hand in protest. “Shoot. Did we remember to chill the champagne for the mimosas?”
“I put it in there last night,” Hadley says. “Along with the sparkling cider for those who don’t want alcohol.”
“Those who don’t want alcohol,” Hannah scoffs.
The doorbell rings, ending their exchange.
“Can you get that?” Katie asks, turning to me.
I’m still a little groggy and feeling the warmth of my revelation as I pull open the door and find Hudson, Mila, and Evelyn on the doorstep.
“You really dressed up for the occasion,” Mila says, holding a basket of pastries in her hand.
Hudson grins, following the girls inside. “I like his style, better.”
The smoky, savory scent of bacon fills the air, pulling us toward the kitchen and dining room.
“It smells so good in here. What are you making?” Evelyn asks.
“Three kinds of waffles, three flavors of syrup, hot ham and cheese sandwiches, bacon, sausage, and cinnamon rolls,” Hannah ticks off each of them. “And we have mimosas and more pie than all of Oleander Springs can eat.”
“We’ll take that challenge,” I say.
Hadley grins as she plates a round of waffles, covering them with foil.
The doorbell rings again and for the next thirty minutes, the house is filled with Corey, Palmer, Grey, Lenny, Carsen, his roommate, Drew, and Brielle.
We spend the entire day eating and laughing, exchanging stories and jokes.
Some play board games in the dining room, Hadley convinces a couple of people to start watching Only Murders in the Building and puts it on in the living room.
It’s nothing like the Thanksgivings I had growing up at my grandparents’ farm.
There are no pranks, and we don’t play football outside, but there’s a rightness here, a wholeness as so many parts of my life come together in one place so seamlessly.
“We should have dessert,” Katie says.
Hadley’s currently perched on my knee. While my friends knew—maybe before I did—that I harbored feelings for Hadley, today is the first time we can be a couple without any reservations, even in front of Katie. It feels monumental. It also feels amazing.
“I don’t know if I have room for dessert,” I say, placing a hand against my stomach, and my other hand on Hadley’s back.
“Maybe you’ll want a small slice,” Hadley says. “Or just a bite. Pumpkin’s your favorite, right?”
I hate pumpkin pie, but if she made me a pumpkin pie, I will eat every damn bite.
“Can I help?” I ask.
“Sure. I kind of went a little crazy.”
“I plan to make pie my diet for the entire week,” Hannah says, from her spot next to Katie on the couch.
Hadley grins, finding my hand as she stands. It’s another easy and natural gesture that feels entirely right between us.
I follow her to the kitchen where she pulls open the fridge to reveal a dozen cooling racks stacked, each adorned with a pie. Several more pies are already on the counter, waiting to be sliced into.
“Hannah wasn’t kidding,” I say. “How many kinds of pie did you make, Cutlass?”
“Caramel apple, pumpkin, pumpkin cheesecake, pecan, chocolate pecan, cranberry orange, and a pear and almond tart.”
“Did you sleep while I was gone?”
“Carsen has a hidden talent for making pie crust,” she says.
I grin, pulling one of the pies closer. Hadley always makes her dishes look like artwork and these pies are no different. Each of them is artfully topped. Some are braided, others woven, some have pie crust in the shapes of leaves, all of them are intricate. “I don’t know if I can cut into these.”
“How about this one?” She sets a pie covered with whipped cream beside me.
“Which one is this?”
“Chocolate crème.”
My gaze shifts to her knowing one as she grabs a stack of dessert plates and a handful of silverware.
“You gave me Thanksgiving and made me chocolate crème pie?”
“There’s no football or five-hundred-corn maze.”
I tag her around the waist and kiss her, well aware this is more than just pie and a lot of effort.
Hadley is grinning when she pulls away, one hand still on my chest. “I’m going to see what kind of pie everyone wants.”
As she drifts toward the living room, Katie wanders in and gives me a pathetic attempt at an eye roll before smirking. She has yet to lay into me for breaking the number one rule of our contract. “Your girlfriend might steal all your friends with her cooking skills.”
I chuckle. “Likely.”
Katie grabs a knife and starts slicing into a pie. “She made like fourteen chocolate crème pies to make it taste like grandma's. It’s richer and she used whipped cream instead of Cool Whip but tell her it tastes just like grandma’s because she worked her ass off, trying to make it.”
My gaze shifts from Katie to Hadley, realizing she worked on one of her perfect recipes for me.
My expression grows somber as I nod.
Katie nods, too, smiling as she cuts into another pie. “She’d have a blast at grandma and grandpas. They’d like her.”
I know she’s giving me her approval, and that might make this day the best day I’ve had in a very long time.