Chapter 34
(Thanksgiving Day)
“What’s my uncle’s name?”
“David.”
“Good. What about my youngest nephew?”
Oliver takes several seconds to think. “Cooper, right? Steph and Cody’s youngest?”
I smile. “You got it! Who is Harper, and how is she related to me?”
“Harper is the daughter of Taylor and Danny. Taylor is your first cousin, so Harper is your first cousin once removed?”
“Correct! Good job!”
Oliver pumps his fist. “Yes! I’m on fire! Come on, give me another one.”
I laugh. “Okay, um… Where do Brian and Megan live?”
“Shit,” Oliver hisses. “Texas, right?”
“Yes, but do you know where in Texas?”
“Austin?”
“No, try again.”
He sighs. “Shit, is it Dallas?”
“Close enough,” I smile again. “It’s Plano. But Plano and Dallas are really close.”
Oliver groans. “Where the hell did I get Austin?”
“Probably because my cousin’s name is Austin,” I reply. “He’s Taylor’s brother.”
“Ugh, that’s right. Dammit.”
“Oliver, you’re doing amazing,” I insist. “No one is going to expect you to have memorized the family tree.”
“Yeah, but I want to come across as invested,” Oliver says.
“Careful not to sound too invested,” I warn. “They’ll think you’re going to propose.”
Oliver barks a strange laugh. “That would be terribly irresponsible! We at least need to finish our bachelor's degrees first.”
I snicker. “Exactly.”
A moment later, Oliver clicks his tongue. “Ooh, I meant to ask before, but who is your favorite nibling?”
I toss him a weird look. “Nibling?”
“Yeah, it’s the gender-neutral term for niece or nephew. Come on, Jude, keep up!”
I snort, then consider the question. “I don’t think I’m supposed to have a favorite.”
“I know, but everyone does.”
Grinning, I go with my gut. “It’s probably Liam, but it’s been a whole year since I’ve seen him, so I don’t know if he’s become more like my brother by now.”
“Liam Cohen, the youngest of your brother Brian and his wife Megan’s two kids, who lives in Plano, Texas.”
“You’re insane.”
“But am I right?”
I glance his way to see him waiting expectantly for praise. He’s so fucking cute that it makes me want to scream. “You are.”
He pumps his fist again. “Let’s fucking go!”
My parents are going to be impressed by his dedication, that’s for sure. They’ll think his hair is too long and might find him a bit too outspoken, depending on how conversations go, but overall, I think this is going to work. We’re a believable couple.
In fact, I’ll be extra believable as a doting girlfriend today because Oliver’s version of dressing up for my family is apparently my kryptonite.
Slim-fitting dark navy jeans that accentuate his long, slender legs.
A soft, burnt orange sweater I’m itching to touch.
Matching penny loafers and argyle socks.
And finally, his beautiful golden waves are styled half-up, half-down, with a few loose strands framing his face.
I want to hug whoever picked out this outfit and styled him today, but also… fuck. I’m in trouble.
As soon as I turn into the subdivision, my pulse quickens. Two rights and a left turn later, I slow to a stop and park on the curb in front of my parents’ house. “Here we are.”
“Holy shit,” Oliver says. “You didn’t mention you were rich.”
I frown. “I mean, I told you that my parents are funding my tuition and housing. I thought it was implied.”
“Yeah, but, I mean, my dad can only afford my tuition and housing because he started putting money away in an account before I was even born,” Oliver counters. “And I don’t know if there’s enough for me to stay on campus all four years.”
“Oh,” I mutter. “Well, surprise.”
Oliver gawks at the house, and I take a moment to see it from an outsider’s perspective.
Honestly, yeah, it’s a lot. The perfectly manicured front lawn leads to a brick, multi-story home with a three-car garage.
Four cars have already lined the double-wide driveway—two minivans, one with a Tennessee license plate and the other with a Florida license plate, and two rental SUVs. Dread pools in my stomach like acid.
“Hey,” Oliver says softly, reaching across the console to hold my hand. “We’ve got this.”
I nod. “I know.”
“If at any point we need to leave, we can,” Oliver adds.
Squeezing his hand, I shake my head. “That’s not going to be necessary.” Or an option, really.
“That’s the spirit,” Oliver says with a grin.
We climb out of Ripley, and Oliver retrieves my crate full of homemade desserts from the backseat. As we make our way up the driveway, I hear the distinct sound of children’s laughter.
“Hey, it’s Auntie DEADNAME!” a child’s voice calls out from somewhere out of sight.
“Auntie who?” Oliver asks.
Shit, I should have prepared him for that. “That’s my deadname,” I mutter.
Oliver’s face scrunches. “Really? Oh.”
Three young boys and a girl emerge from the garage and run toward Oliver and me. “Auntie DEADNAME!” the tallest of the boys shouts.
“Hi Liam!” As the kids come closer, I recognize them. “Aiden, Brooke, and Mason, too!”
“Who is that?” Brooke asks loudly, pointing at Oliver.
“Pointing is rude, Brooke,” Aiden says.
“He’s a stranger, I’m allowed to be rude to strangers,” Brooke replies.
“Nuh-uh,” Aiden argues.
Brooke pouts. “Yes-huh! That’s stranger danger!”
Stifling a laugh, I lean down to Brooke’s height. “It’s okay, Brooke! This is Oliver. He’s my boyfriend.”
Brooke’s eyes go wide. “You have a boyfriend?”
Aiden looks confused. “My dad said you stopped having boyfriends.”
I roll my eyes, picturing Cody’s stupid face. I’m sure he had more than that to say, and I can only hope it went over Aiden’s head. “Well, your dad—”
“But he has long hair!” Brooke interjects. “Long hair is for girls!”
“It’s okay,” Oliver says with a grin. “Boys can have long hair, too.”
“Nuh-uh,” Brooke argues. “Daddy said Aiden always has to cut his hair because he’s a boy.”
Oliver glances at me, then back to Brooke. “Well, my dad said it was okay for me to have long hair.”
“And Oliver is a grown-up,” I add. “So, he can grow his hair long if he wants to.”
“No,” Brooke says, stomping her foot. “Girls are supposed to have long hair, and boys are supposed to have short hair.” Her eyes bounce between Oliver and me. “You both did it wrong.”
Oliver tries not to laugh. “Well, actually–”
“Ooh, DEADNAME, did you bring pumpkin pie?” Liam asks, eyeing the covered dishes in the crate Oliver’s carrying. “I told Grandma to tell you to make it again because it was really good.”
I grin. “Yep, I sure did. I brought cookies, too.”
All four children’s eyes light up—even little Mason looks up from the toy truck he’s been playing with.
“What kind of cookies?” Aiden asks.
“Snickerdoodle, chocolate chip, and sprinkled sugar cookies,” I answer. “But we can’t eat them until after dinner, okay?”
“Can we eat dinner now?” Brooke asks.
“Let’s go inside and find out,” I say, straightening up and gesturing for everyone to follow me.
Together, the six of us head to the front porch. I briefly pause, take a deep breath, open the door, and step into the foyer.
“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Brooke yells, running ahead of us with Aiden close behind. “There’s a big boy with long hair here!”
Liam holds Mason’s tiny hand and leads him into the living room, leaving Oliver and me alone in the foyer, though not for long.
My cousin, Taylor, steps into view through the dining room and flashes an eager smile. “Aww, it’s DEADNAME and her date! Come on in!”
Oliver emits a low-pitched growl just loud enough for me to hear, but I nudge him, and he stops.
“Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!” I announce. “Where should we put the desserts?”
Voices from several directions echo our greeting, but most seem to come from the kitchen. Taylor’s husband, Danny, steps into the foyer from the living room, arms open and a kind smile on his face. “I can take that off your hands, man. I’m Danny, by the way.”
Oliver smiles politely and hands off the crate. “Thanks, Danny. I’m Oliver.”
“Come on, we want to meet the boyfriend!” my cousin Ashlynn shouts from the kitchen.
Hands now free, Oliver wastes no time finding and interlocking fingers with mine, and together we venture deeper into the house.
The foyer branches in multiple directions—the den is on the left, the living room and stairs to the second floor are straight ahead, and the dining room is to the right.
The best route to the kitchen is through the dining room.
As we walk, I catch a glimpse of the living room, where Bluey is playing loudly on my parents’ massive mounted television.
The kitchen, however, is far more overstimulating.
All the overhead lights are on full, harsh brightness, and I’m immediately bombarded by food smells, oven fans, and unfamiliar music in the background.
The room is crowded with all the women of the family, plus Aiden, Brooke, and a smaller girl I quickly recognize as Harper, clinging to Taylor’s leg.
“Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart!” Mom steps into my path and envelops me in a hug. Estee Lauder overpowers the savory food smells, but it’s not necessarily better.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mom.”
“And this must be Oliver!” Mom says eagerly, eyeing Oliver up and down. “My goodness, you’re so tall!”
Oliver grins. “Thank you! I’ve been working out.”
Mom blinks in confusion, but Taylor laughs out loud. “Ooh, he’s cute, tall, and he’s got jokes!” She holds out a hand. “I’m Taylor Graham, DEADNAME’s first cousin. I think you just met Danny—he’s my husband.”
“Nice to meet you,” Oliver says, shaking her hand before looking down at Harper. “And who’s this?”
Harper’s huge eyes somehow grow even bigger just before she cowers behind Taylor.
“This is my little Harper,” Taylor explains. “She’s shy, but she’ll eventually warm up a little. It’s just a lot right now.”
“I know how you feel, Harper,” I say softly.
Taylor squats down to Harper’s level. “Hey, Bunny, do you remember DEADNAME? She’s Mommy’s favorite cousin, and she’s very nice.”