Twelve #3
“Cool.” Izzy sounded excited for her. “I can’t wait to be an adult. I mean, my mom tells me it’s work and bills and to enjoy my childhood, but I think I’d also enjoy being able to bake a turkey and pies with my friends on whatever day I wanted.”
Gillian laughed. “I’ve never considered choosing your own days to eat turkey as a mark of adulthood, but it’s not terrible. Though I cook a lasagna for our friends’ meal.”
“A lasagna for Thanksgiving?” Izzy sounded scandalized. “I’ve never heard of anyone having lasagna on a turkey holiday.”
“That’s another mark of adulthood, when you let go of the ‘shoulds.’ Besides, we’ll all eat turkey on Thursday. Seems a bit much to have the same meal twice in four days.”
“Not to me. Especially if the meal is as good as turkey and mashed potatoes.”
“But you’ve never had my lasagna, so you don’t know. It could blow your mind. It’s kind of my thing.”
“Your thing is blowing people’s minds with lasagna?”
She laughed. “I have a lot of things.”
Izzy looked her up and down before nodding. “I kind of believe you.”
“Uh-oh.” Daphne came in, and Gillian’s breath caught at the sight of her, all flowy and soft in billowy, cream cotton with her dark curls falling across her shoulders. “What have you convinced my daughter to believe?”
“That I’m good at a lot of things.”
“I’ve seen no evidence to support that.” Daphne cracked a smile.
“Unless you include being valedictorian, an all-American athlete, getting into an Ivy League school, earning an advanced degree, starting your own business, and successfully assembling a team of great people to put good out into the world at large. Other than that, you’re pretty mid. ”
Gillian stared at her, flabbergasted by the laundry list of her accomplishments Daphne could rattle off at will. “I just meant I make a good lasagna.”
“Oh.” Daphne shrugged playfully. “Am I supposed to take your word? Seems unrealistic for someone who looks like Miranda Priestly over here to also be a domestic goddess.”
Gillian stepped closer, steeling herself against the visceral memory of stepping into her arms. “Are you challenging me?”
“Why? Are you competitive or something?”
“Little.” Gillian bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
Her equilibrium was all off, and they hadn’t talked at all about the hug from last week.
Hell, she’d barely been able to think about it without feeling like her brain might melt, but she’d lost too many arguments with this woman lately not to take the bait on one she knew she could win.
Daphne feigned disinterest but didn’t back down. “If you feel like you have something to prove, you could always bring me some leftovers.”
“Leftovers?” she scoffed. “As if I’d let you reheat my lasagna in a microwave. No, if we’re throwing down, it’ll be on my home court.”
Daphne laughed. “Are you inviting me over for dinner?”
Gillian paused. Is that what she’d intended to do?
Had she possessed any intention around this woman for weeks?
She searched her feelings, paying attention to where they landed in her body, waiting for her stomach to clench or her jaw to tighten, but the usual sensations of annoyance she associated with Daphne’s presence never came.
Shouldn’t this woman bother her more? Or maybe the fact that none of what happened last week had bothered her much should in fact … well, bother her.
“Gillian?” Daphne waved her hand in front of her face, making it clear she’d spaced out. “You still with us?”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, so I’m kind of drawing it out to give me time to catch myself,” Gillian admitted slowly, “but in addition to all my other talents you had a ready list of, I’m also pretty self-aware, and I don’t hate the idea of you joining us for Friendsgiving.”
Daphne stared at her as if trying to make sense of the uncharacteristic rambling. “Was that the worst holiday party invite you’ve ever issued?”
“Yes,” Gillian said quickly. “Poorly formed, half-assed, and not at all gracious.”
“I like it,” Daphne said resolutely.
“Really?”
“Actually, I do. Feels genuine. Also, you know how much I enjoy it when you’re kind of a mess.”
“I’ve noticed, but don’t get your hopes up it’ll continue. I intend to rebound, and as you know, I still hold the school record for rebounds in a single season.”
Daphne shook her head. “I did not know that, but I’ll pay closer attention this time.”
“See that you do.” Gillian tried to find her footing again. “I throw a great dinner party. You’ll have no choice but to be impressed.”
“I look forward to it,” Daphne replied, tongue firmly in cheek. “I expect centerpieces and wine pairings and probably seasonal décor of some kind.”
Gillian snorted softly. “Check, check, check.”
Daphne opened her mouth, eyes dancing with mirth, but Izzy cut her off. “I take it back.”
Both adults turned to look at her. Had Daphne forgotten she was there? Gillian had.
“I’m not in a hurry to grow up. I think it makes you weird.”
Gillian sighed, not sure if she should be embarrassed or grateful for the simplistic explanation of whatever was happening to her these days. “Yes, apparently adulthood takes things that used to be set and safe and makes them super weird.”