Chapter 27
Where Wednesday had started late, Thursday was the opposite.
A bird as big as his mother had ordered needed to be started before the sun was up.
There was no way she was lifting that behemoth in and out of the oven, so he’d slipped into the back door at o’dark-thirty.
Once it was in the oven, he’d napped on the couch in his parents’ living room.
Later he’d been awoken with a plate of eggs and bacon before joining his mother in the kitchen all day.
By around three in the afternoon, they were nearly done. Foster set the table for dinner, ready to finally sit back and enjoy the fruits of their labor. His mother strode through the dining room, placing the last of the pies on the buffet to cool.
“No, darling. There’s four of us.”
“Four?” Foster frowned. “Who else is coming?”
“We have a mystery guest!”
Foster sighed. “Please tell me it’s not who I think it is.”
“Your cousin and her new beau seem to be going very strong. Hopefully his family likes her, too, so she can be invited the following Thanksgiving, as well,” his mother said. “And now I have my thing to be thankful of this year. Thanks, Foster.”
“You’re welcome,” Foster said before pulling out another setting and silverware to add to the table.
He couldn’t imagine who it might be, but then, his parents had often extended a welcome to those who had nowhere else to be for the holiday.
That likely hadn’t changed simply because his father was now retired.
They’d had visiting faculty or lonely professors from Rutgers where his dad had taught, college students who couldn’t afford to travel home, service members from Fort Dix who didn’t have leave to make it home, and a host of others over the years.
After finishing the table, Foster returned to the kitchen to take the last of the sides out of the oven, amazed he remembered which timer went with which dish considering how many there were.
He had to shoo his father away from the turkey again in the midst of it and pretend not to notice the chunk of leg missing, too.
His father scooted back to the living room, chewing and happy.
About a quarter ‘til four, the doorbell rang, and his mother wandered off to answer it. She marched back into the kitchen a few seconds later.
“Foster, our guest would like a glass of iced tea. Can you take him one while I check the temperature on the oyster dressing?”
“Sure thing,” Foster said.
He poured a glass and headed for the living room—where he froze in his tracks the second he laid eyes on Jude.
Heat filled his cheeks, his mouth wide open.
Jude turned his focus on Foster, an amused look on his face. “Something tells me no one told you I was coming.”
Foster shook his head before carefully closing the gap and handing over the iced tea.
“I hope I’m not an unwanted guest,” Jude said, his voice low as he reached for the glass.
Their fingers touched, and Foster almost jumped from the feel of Jude’s skin against his. “Not at all.”
A slow smile stretched over Jude’s face. Foster fought one of his own.
“I need to help my mom wrap up dinner,” Foster said, unable to drag his gaze from Jude’s.
Not when Jude was looking at him like that.
Like he wanted him for dinner.
“Do you need help?”
I need help wrapping my mind around the fact you’re sitting in my parents’ house, casually watching the game like this is no big deal.
Foster’s mother appeared behind him. “I told you that you didn’t have to lift a finger, Jude, and I meant it. You relax for now. We’re almost ready.” She tapped Foster on the arm. “Can you help me carry out the last of the sides?”
“Sure thing,” Foster said.
“I just laid the turkey plate on the table,” his mother said to his father. “And I counted every last slice. Don’t you dare steal any more before we sit down.”
“I know not what you speak of, woman,” his father joyfully proclaimed, one finger pointed to the heavens.
Foster chuckled, his gaze drifting to Jude. “I hope you’re ready for this all night.”
“Bring it on,” Jude replied.
Foster nearly tripped on his way out of the living room, his face on fire.
“Are you okay?” his mother asked when he made it to the kitchen.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, snatching a hot casserole dish without oven mitts and singeing his fingertip. He yelped before sticking his forefinger into his mouth. “I’ll be fine.”
His mother chuckled, an odd look on her face.
“Why did you invite Jude?”
Her smile faded. “When I asked him what he was doing and he said eating Chinese food alone, there was no way I was letting that happen. He lost his father the year before last—and honestly, he’d probably lost him a couple of years before that with the Alzheimer’s.
” She stood up a bit straighter. “Is there a problem with me inviting him?”
Foster shook his head. “No. I’m glad you did.” He snatched a set of oven mitts. “He shouldn’t have been alone tonight.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Foster took the last few dishes to the table before he ambled into the living room. “Dinner’s served.”
Before Foster could walk over to help give his father a steadying arm, Jude beat him to it. He watched the pair walk into the dining room like they were already old friends.
Foster faced forty minutes trying not to look like an absolute, love-struck ass in front of his parents and Jude.
He wasn’t sure how well he was going to succeed.
Jude sat across from Foster, stunned at how handsome he was.
It wasn’t like he didn’t know Foster was a fine ass man, but for some reason, he looked even better than Jude remembered.
Maybe that whole absence making the heart grow fonder bit was actually true.
They hadn’t seen one another in nearly a month. It sure as hell felt longer than that.
He’d missed Foster.
That was only compounded by seeing him again.
Especially when he had to keep his hands to himself all night.
After they said grace but before they loaded up their plates, Foster’s mom announced, “Let’s all say one thing we’re thankful for this year. George, why don’t you start?”
Foster’s dad cleared his throat. “I’m thankful that our Foster is back home and starting a new chapter of his life. We’ve missed having him around, and I’m looking forward to seeing where he goes from here.”
“Here-here,” Foster’s mom said. “Me? I’m grateful for that, as well, but since I knew my husband was going to say it first, I’ll say how grateful I am that we can all be here tonight and share this wonderful meal together.”
“I thought you were going to be thankful Jessica wasn’t here tonight?” Foster said to her, grinning.
“I was only joking about that,” she whispered to Foster. “You’re going to make me sound like a terrible, rude person.”
She leaned toward Jude. “I would have been nicer and said I was grateful my darling niece’s new relationship is still going strong. Strong enough that a new family can enjoy her company this year. I hope they continue to enjoy her for many, many years to come.”
“Ah,” Jude said, grinning.
“Well, your turn, Jude,” Mrs. Price said. “What are you grateful for?”
Jude’s gaze whipped to Foster’s before he looked back at her. “I suppose I’m grateful for the invitation to join you for dinner. Thank you very much, if I haven’t thanked you already.”
“No need to thank anyone. We’re glad to have you,” Foster’s dad said with a broad smile.
“Okay, honey,” Mrs. Price said to Foster. “What are you thankful for?”
Foster’s gaze whipped to Jude and his face grew a bit red.
Jude smiled to himself.
“I’m thankful to be here and not in California, enjoying an actual autumn for the first time in a long while.” He smiled at Jude. “And I’m thankful for the company we have tonight.”
Jude fought a smile. He had no idea if Foster’s parents knew if their son was out, so he didn’t want to react too blatantly. He should’ve asked before coming over. Last he’d heard, Foster hadn’t told them yet, but that might’ve changed. A lot could happen in a month.
“Well, it sounds like we all have plenty to be thankful for,” Mrs. Price said. “Let’s dig in to all this delicious food Foster made.”
“I only helped,” Foster corrected, standing to uncover a couple of the casseroles and plates.
“I gave a few pointers,” she said. “You did most of the work.”
“Sounds like she’s making sure to cover herself in case something’s not good,” Foster’s dad quipped.
“Oh, hush,” Mrs. Price said to her husband with a grin.
Jude sat back a second, not wanting to appear piggish by digging in, especially when his hosts weren’t.
Everything smelled amazing and if the food was as good as the plate she’d sent home, he was in for a treat.
He’d only eaten a small breakfast to leave room for the big meal he’d anticipated—and it didn’t seem like he was going to be disappointed.
All the regular fixings were on the table plus ones he didn’t recognize, and they smelled incredible.
If they tasted halfway as good as they looked, they were going to have a fine meal.
“Bear with us a bit,” Mrs. Price whispered to Jude. “I hope you don’t mind we’re going in a particular order around the table. Foster’s going to start everything off.”
“Oh, no… it’s fine,” Jude said.
Foster placed a helping of turkey onto his father and mother’s plates before eyeing Jude. “White or dark?”
“Either is fine, but I’d prefer white,” Jude said.
Foster jabbed a couple of thick slices with a serving fork and leaned over the table to place it on Jude’s plate.
“Thanks,” Jude murmured.
Foster grinned. “You’re welcome.”