36. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
JULIAN
When Andrea told me she and Carter usually ordered Chinese food and binged movies on Thanksgiving, I offered them to come with me to Abigail’s house. I’d always questioned why he never took me up on the offer before and figured it was due to a woman. To be fair, I wasn’t entirely wrong.
Andrea talked me into wearing a sweater that she found rummaging through my closet. It was a gift from Abigail two birthdays’ ago. The only reason I agreed to wear it is because it matches the color of her eyes.
Our kiss did something to me. It’s as if it somehow rewired my brain and now when I look at her all I can do is imagine myself kissing her again. And again, and again. It’s maddening, really. It’s out of character for me. I’m good at control, but she’s undoing hardwired things inside of me.
Holidays have always been a casual event for the Sullivan family. It’s all about stuffing our faces until we can’t move from our designated spots on the couch.
From where I sit on a stool at the counter mashing the potatoes, I watch Andrea toss the salad in the kitchen as she laughs at something Abigail says.
She’s wearing an oversized white turtleneck sweater with black leggings and fuzzy socks.
Lily sits beside me, eating pickles from a jar.
When we arrived, her hair was down. Now, her blonde hair is clumsily braided down her back—oddly similar to Andrea’s hairstyle.
In kid language, I know that means she approves of her.
“You stare at her a lot,” she observes, now stabbing her fork into a piece of pumpkin pie.
Abigail says there are no rules on Thanksgiving.
Lily loves this because she eats mostly sweets.
. .and well, pickles. I give it a couple more hours before she’s out like a light.
I already judged her for her pickle and pie concoction, but she only shrugged and told me I didn’t get it.
“You’re too observant for a ten-year-old.” I force my eyes off Andrea and back to my task.
Lily snorts. “You’re too conspicuous for a forty-year-old.”
“I’m thirty-two,” I state with narrowed eyes.
Shrugging, she defends herself by saying, “I’m not that good at math. All I know is that you’re pretty old.”
I blink, giving her a dry expression when really, I want to laugh at her boldness. Her parents have their hands full. “Do you even know what ‘conspicuous’ means?”
“It means you’re not playing it cool. She’s caught you staring at her four times. It’s getting creepy.”
I frown. “I’m not staring and even if I was, it’s not creepy. She’s my girlfriend.”
“It is when you look like this.” She takes a sip of her water and makes dreamy eyes at the back of Andrea’s head, the water pouring out of her mouth like drool.
I chuckle.
“Lily Wren!” Abigail scolds half-heartedly. “Don’t you choke on that water!”
Lily swallows the rest of the water in her mouth and wipes her face with an innocent smile. “I was just telling Uncle Julian that—”
I put my hand over her mouth. “Nothing. She was telling me nothing.”
Lily rolls her eyes and Andrea’s eyebrow is lifted in question before going back to chatting with Abigail. I remove my hand as I tell Lily with my eyes to zip it .
“Chicken,” she whispers before taking an extra big bite of pie.
“Dork,” I shoot back.
“Did you just call a ten-year-old a dork?”
I startle some, glancing over to find Andrea standing next to me with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed playfully.
She looks so at home and cozy in this setting that my heart flutters.
Abigail absolutely adores her and keeps stealing all of her attention.
I haven’t had the heart to steal her back since she seems to enjoy her company too.
It’s more than I could have hoped. Having her here feels complete in a way. Like she’s been a missing piece of the puzzle all along.
“He sure did,” Lily says, trying hard not to laugh.
“Huh,” Andrea says thoughtfully. “And to think you didn’t have any character flaws.”
“Oh, he’s got plenty,” Abigail calls out from the stove. She walks over to prop her elbows on the counter. She tries to hide her smile when she sees her daughter’s hair.
“You thought he was flawless before?” Lily asks, disbelief coating her features. I’m with her on this one. I’m covered in flaws up to my neck—physically and metaphorically speaking.
“I’d love to hear about these flaws,” Andrea says, but she’s smiling warmly at me. “But I’m afraid they won’t matter much. ”
“Why’s that?” I ask, turning in my chair to face her. She steps between my legs, her body fitting perfectly against mine. Her eyes are bright and droopy, telling me she’s been enjoying the wine.
“Because I picked you,” she says and then laughs softly before turning to face our audience. “And besides, what fool would let this man go?”
Lily leans forward. “Well. . .”
Abigail steps in. “Lily, go make sure your dad isn’t boring poor Carter to death about different types of grapes.”
She groans, her head falling back. “Ugh, fine.”
I picked you .
I picked you .
I picked you .
My sister goes to check the turkey in the oven and Andrea smooths the back of her hand over my forehead and cheek. “Are you feeling okay?” she asks quietly, looking concerned as she studies me. “You have a funny look on your face.”
“This is just my face,” I deadpan.
She gives me a disbelieving look. “I think I’ve looked at your face enough to notice any differences. I know what a lot of your faces mean, but I’ve never seen this one before.”
My head draws back, amusement flooding me at the certainty in her voice. “What do you mean you know my faces ? I only have one face.”
She shakes her head. “No, you have your thinking face, your confused face, your frustrated face, your resigned face, your skeptical face, your annoyed face, your amused face—I’m getting that one now—I could go on and on.”
“Are you studying me, ma cerise?” I murmur. A strange feeling overcomes me at the thought of her paying close enough attention to me that she can understand me with one glance.
She shrugs, stealing one of Lily’s pickles. “I won’t deny you’re fun to look at.”
My mouth twitches. “I’m glad my looks please you.”
“A lot about you pleases me,” she muses, and I want to kiss her.
I lean forward, ghosting my nose over hers. “You’re treading dangerous territory,” I warn softly.
She blushes. “Maybe I like danger.”
I hide my smile in her neck. “How much wine have you had?”
Her laugh is felt in my bones. “Far too much.”
After we’ve watched the parade on TV and stuffed our faces to full capacity, we sit in the living room, fighting our food comas.
A soft golden light from the fireplace fills the space.
I sit on the sofa adorned with seasonal decorative pillows.
Michael’s half asleep in his recliner and Abigail is in his lap.
Carter’s fingers move quickly across his phone keyboard, the screen lighting up his face. He’s addicted to his work, not that I fault him for it. People love what they love.
“You did what?” Andrea asks, unbelieving that the Julian she knew has dined and dashed. Granted, I was sixteen.
“It was a dare,” I defend. “What was I supposed to do?”
She breaks into laughter from where she sits with her legs crossed. Lily sits in front of her as she redoes her braid. “Remind me never to dare you to do anything.” Shaking her head, she shoots me a look that feigns disapproval. “Where’s your self-control, Julian Havord?”
“In his defense, I can be very persuasive. I only needed to pretend I was sad, and he’d do anything to cheer me up,” Abigail chimes in.
I chuckle. “I knew what you were doing. You were lucky I was just bored.”
Abigail rolls her eyes and looks over at Andrea. “Don’t let him fool you. His heart is mushy.”
My face twists in dismay. “My heart is not mushy.”
“Men do not have mushy hearts,” Michael adds to my defense.
I nod in agreement and Andrea shakes her head at me, her smile radiating.
“Don’t even get me started on yours, Michael Sullivan.” My sister shares a look with him that has him visibly softening.
“Psst.” I peer over to find Carter staring at me with wide eyes.
“What?”
“He’s staring at me.”
“Who is?”
“The demon cat.”
“Lily’s right, you’re a banana.” When she checked on Carter at her mother’s request, she found him sneaking grapes directly from the grapevine.
“Never mind her. She and that evil spawn are looking for a weak spot to take me down. I don’t trust them.” He turns slowly to stare at the cat curled in a bawl next to my head, purring sweetly.
I snort. “Pickles is innocent.” Reaching over, I scratch under his chin and the purring intensifies.
Feeling brave, Carter reaches over to pet him. He gets away with it for about five seconds before Pickles bites his finger. “Motherfucker,” he hisses, cradling his hand to his chest. “He bit me, Julian.”
“It’s called a love bite.”
“Just because he didn’t draw blood— this time —doesn’t make it a love bite.”
“You’re overreacting.”
His eyes widen in disbelief. “Overreact—and to think you care about me.” He turns his attention to the sports news on TV.
“Carter,” I say with a sigh.
He ignores me, crossing his arms and pretending to pay close attention to the screen.
“Pickles said he was sorry.”
He lifts a brow. “Oh, did he?”
I nod, pressing my lips together with a smile.
Huffing, he side-eyes the cat. “Well, I accept his apology. . .from over here.”
“You’re all set, girly,” Andrea states, smoothing a hand over the fixed braid.
Lily turns and throws her arms around her neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” she tells the little girl who is already zooming across the room and jumping onto the couch.
“Mom, can we watch a movie?” she asks, wrapping herself in a chunky knit blanket.
“That’s up to our guests,” she says and then yawns. Michael kisses her temple, eyes not once opening.
Andrea walks over to where I’m sitting. When I lift my blanket, she slides in beside me, snuggling close with a sigh of contentment as Carter says, “I could watch a movie.”
“How about you?” I ask her quietly. “We can go if you want.”
She shakes her head and rests it on my shoulder. “I’m right where I want to be.”