“Do you think they’re helping?”
“I tried explaining to Mom that it’s hard to be around when she’s angry, but then she tells me what my father did to make her angry. I told her that nobody wants to hear a litany of complaints over pumpkin pie and all she does is give me the whole list to prove it’s valid.” Tori shrugged one shoulder, rubbing her index finger over the edge of her thumbnail. “One of the chapters I read earlier—right after she called, actually—covered when a toxic person in your life isn’t taking hints or redirection and has to be cut out of your life.”
“If that concept’s disturbing you, I take it you’ve reached that point with your parents?”
“Maybe my mom. Dad’s not quite as bad and I have hope for him, eventually. But they’d have to hear what I say to get the hints. Maybe if the holidays weren’t coming up, it wouldn’t be so bad, but they’re in a frenzy right now.”
He put his arm around her and pulled her close, so she was snuggled against his chest. “Have Thanksgiving with me.”
The words came out in a casual, almost throwaway tone, but alarm bells still went off in Tori’s brain. Thanksgiving was a holiday. Spending holidays together was a big deal. A very big deal. “I was planning on going to Uncle Mike and Aunt Jilly’s. My mom keeps threatening to show up, though. We might all come down with a case of the flu.”
“If you tell her you’re spending the day with a friend, she can’t invite herself and, if you’re not at their house, there’s no reason for your aunt and uncle to have to pretend to be sick on a day dedicated to food. Besides, it would be fun.”
Or it would be intimate. A couple spending Thanksgiving Day together. The familiar fear rose up in the back of her mind, but she did her best to shove it away. “It does sound fun. Friends can eat too much turkey together and then fall asleep on the couch watching movies.”
“Or football.”
“I’ll definitely fall asleep on the couch. But aren’t you supposed to go home to Connecticut?”
He shrugged, which she felt since she was pressed up against him. “With six adults and five kids, they’ll barely notice. And I’ll be going home for Christmas a month later, anyway. They won’t mind. I promise. And it’ll get you out of a tough spot with your parents.”
Tears stung her eyes and she tried to blink them away. “Why can’t I tell them to...I don’t know, go jump off a cliff or something?”
“Because they’re your parents.”
“I don’t want to end up hating them as much as they hate each other.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I wish I knew what to tell you. But I can help you dodge Thanksgiving and maybe they’ll start listening to you.”
She doubted that part, but it would be nice to have a reprieve from the marital warfare, even if it was a brief one. There was no doubt in her mind things would reach a fever pitch leading up to Christmas, just like previous years. One of the books, which she’d already read twice, had a recommended reading list and she made a mental note to ask Hailey to borrow a couple more.
“I’d like to have Thanksgiving with you,” she said. “It’ll be fun.”
“We could try that thing where they shove a duck into a chicken and then shove the chicken into the turkey. Or maybe the chicken gets shoved into the duck. I guess it depends on which one’s bigger.”
She laughed, shoving away from him. “I’d rather go to my mother’s.”
He pulled her back, and she figured he’d make his move now. Maybe slide his hand up under her sweatshirt or start nibbling at her neck, but he only wrapped his arm around her again. “I think a plain turkey would be best. When you start shoving food inside other foods, it must be difficult to figure out the cooking time.”
“Have you ever roasted a turkey?” She assumed, if he always went home to Connecticut, his mother probably did the honors.
“No, but they have directions on the wrapper. And there are YouTube video tutorials for everything.”
She laughed, trying to imagine him watching videos on how to properly stuff a Thanksgiving turkey. “I usually just watch videos of people doing really stupid things.”
“Speaking of videos, where’s your TV remote?”
“Probably under the books on the table next to you,” she said without bothering to lift her head to look. Her hot cocoa was getting cold, but Max was a great pillow.
A few seconds later, her TV came on and he started flipping through channels. “Stop me if you see something you want to watch.”
When he landed on an episode of Firefly, she told him to stop. “You can’t pass by an episode of Firefly.”
“This one’s early in the season. If it’s a marathon, we’ll still be sitting here hours from now.”
She snuggled deeper into his embrace. “Is that a problem?”
“No, it was a wish,” he said, and rested his cheek on her hair.