52. Daisy
Chapter 52
Daisy
T hanksgiving Day dawned bright and cold. I lay in bed for a minute, savoring the warmth of Jace’s body on one side and Otis’ on the other. I still had the window cracked, but I knew these days were numbered. The last couple weeks, the long grass at the back of the property had been tipped with frost, the trees almost completely bare.
I was glad to have the Beasts back in my bed, but when I lifted my head, I realized Wolf wasn’t there.
I found him in the kitchen, standing next to the coffee maker, the raw turkey already sitting in the old roasting pan I’d found at the back of one of the kitchen cupboards.
He looked sexy as always in loose black jeans, naturally ripped in the way that made people pay hundreds of dollars for new ones, his dark hair tousled.
He came over to kiss me and I breathed him in: sleep and coffee and cold.
“Morning,” he said. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good.” I rubbed my arms. When the house had been built, people were used to drafty old buildings. The rooms with fireplaces were heated with fire, the other rooms with whatever heat seeped in. I would need to upgrade the heating system eventually, but it wasn’t in the current budget. “It’s getting cold.”
He handed me a mug full of steaming coffee. “Want to go grab a sweater?”
“It’s okay, I’ll get warm moving around the kitchen,” I said. “Speaking of, what are you doing up so early?”
He grinned. “You didn’t think I was going to let you make Thanksgiving dinner alone, did you?”
I set the coffee down and wrapped my arms around his torso. When I rested my head against his chest, I heard the beating of his heart. “You really know how to turn a girl on.”
He laughed and kissed the top of my head. “I have an agenda. It’s an excuse to get you alone, without Jace and Otis, those lazy bums.”
I smiled and donned an apron and we got to work. Jace and Otis joined us an hour later, accusing Wolf of being a suck-up, and we spent the morning moving around the kitchen, listening to music (we agreed to save the holiday music for dinner so we didn’t burn out on it) and laughing and comparing notes on whether we thought the pumpkin pie was set and whether the turkey was browning too fast.
It probably would have been easier with the fancy new kitchen I had planned for the house, but there was something familiar and homey about working in the old kitchen. It was still a huge space, originally built for a team of cooks and servers, and we made good use of the old wooden table in lieu of a kitchen island to slice, dice, and peel.
I texted Ruth to tell her Happy Thanksgiving and asked if she was up for a video call, but she didn’t answer, and I knew she was still mad after I’d pushed her to open up during our spa day. It made me sad — this was my first Thanksgiving without her, without my dad and Joan — but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I’d keep trying and hope she would come around.
Otis left around noon to have Thanksgiving with his family. I’d timed our dinner so he wouldn’t have to choose between the two meals, which worked for Sarai too, and Wolf insisted I take the time to shower and clean up while he kept on eye on the turkey and pies.
Jace caught me in the shower, and after two orgasms, a blowout, and a change of clothes, I felt nervous and excited for everyone to arrive.
I went downstairs to the dining room and started setting the table, using my great-grandmother’s china and crystal and even the sterling flatware I’d spent the week polishing. I’d washed and ironed the linens I’d found in the butler’s pantry, and I set them on the plates with new napkin rings I’d chosen for the occasion.
With the table set, I placed the fall-themed centerpiece I’d ordered from Grow, the new florist in town, in the center and arranged the handwritten place cards next to each place setting.
I suddenly missed my mom with a vengeance. She’d celebrated holidays in this dining room as a kid, and I wondered what she’d think of it now, the place brought back to life. I had to believe it was what she'd wanted.
Had she known Blake and Ruth wouldn’t want the house? That I was a dreamer like her? That I would rather live in a house with creaky floors and a mediocre heating system than an expensive new house with all the amenities?
She’d loved this house enough to leave it to me, to leave me the money to fix it up, but she’d never gotten to live here as an adult. She hadn’t followed her heart, hadn’t chosen the man she’d clearly loved, but one who could provide the life she was told she was supposed to want.
What would she think of me now, living in the house at the top of the falls and falling in love with not one but three men who lived on the fringes like Mac?
I wanted someone to give me the answers, like a cheat sheet on the world’s most important test. I wanted to know the right thing, the thing that wouldn’t make me look back with regret.
But I knew that was impossible. I had to make the decisions that felt right and hope for the best, just like my mom.
And I’d have to live with the consequences like her too.