I laughed. “That joke again!”
He snickered and spread a bunch of kisses up my neck. “It’s an oldie but goodie.”
“You mean like a hand job?”
His face came up from where he was nuzzling. “What a perfect analogy. A hand job is also an oldie but goodie. Can I have an old goodie now?”
On that note, I moved my hand between us. The second I got my fingers wrapped around the button on his jeans, pounding on the door startled us. We both jumped back as if someone had tossed a bucket of ice water on us.
“Cyndi says it’s chow time! Come on down,” Max said through the door. At least he had the good grace not to walk in. I couldn’t remember if I’d locked the door or not.
Then farther down the hall we heard Max banging again and repeating the dinner call except that time he said, “Soup’s on.”
Wes helped me up. “Oh, and Ma said Thanksgiving is at their place next year.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth.
I shook my head. “Then you’re telling Max. Preferably when I’m nowhere in sight.”
“Scaredy-cat!” He grinned, looped his fingers with mine, and led me out of the room and down the hall to our first Thanksgiving dinner together. The first real Thanksgiving that I could ever remember.
Only problem, I missed Pops. He’d love sitting at a big table filled with family. It wasn't something we ever had growing up, though he’d tried, in his own way. I recalled many a Thanksgiving where he’d make fried chicken or he’d pick it up from Kentucky Fried Chicken on one of the days that he wasn’t completely drunk and missed the holiday all together.
Still, I missed him.
* * *
Cyndi and Max had outdone themselves. For a couple with a newborn, they blew the top of the Thanksgiving festivities. In a large room off the kitchen, the sixteen-seat dining room table was set and prepped for the six adults and one child. Jackson was sleeping cozily in a bassinet off to the side of the head of the table. Soft music played—some Chopin piece. I only knew that pianist because he was my favorite, although Wes was exposing me to more of the classics. He liked to listen to classical music when we were driving in the car or sitting on the deck looking out over the ocean.
The table had a gold runner down the center. The settings were closer to one end of the table than the other which actually left room for all the food, which had already been put on the table. Max and Cyndi had prepared a feast and then some. The plates, crystal, and utensils sparkled in the candlelight. The effect was unbelievably beautiful. I’d never sat at a table like this. Never even dreamed I would ever have the opportunity.
Everyone shuffled in and stood behind their chairs. Max held out his hands. “Let’s all say grace.”
Max took us through a prayer and ended with a moment of silence to send out thanks and love to those who were not with us today. Again, my thoughts turned to my father lying comatose in a hospital bed in Las Vegas. Alone. On Thanksgiving. Even though we often didn’t celebrate the holiday for one drunken reason or another, we’d still been together. Who was with him now? Nobody. I felt my chest constrict, and I rubbed at the spot.
“You okay?” Wes whispered, holding out my chair for me to sit. Ever the gentleman.
Actually, each man held out his woman's chair. Max even made a point to pull out Isabel’s chair for her before he took his own.
“I’m fine. Just sad that my father isn’t here to spend the holiday with us. I think he’d like this.”
“He would.” Maddy gave a soft smile and took her seat.
Once all of us were seated, we started passing the food. There was turkey, homemade stuffing, mashed potatoes, corn, gravy, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, fresh baked rolls and more. Honest to God, there wasn’t enough room on my plate.
“Does everyone eat like this on Thanksgiving?” I asked, contemplating my loaded plate.
“Right!” Maddy snorted and lifted up her plate. “I can’t even fit everything!” She laughed.
Max, Cyndi, Matt, and Wes all stopped and looked at both Maddy and me. “What?" I questioned. "I mean, this is a lot of food for one dinner.”
Wes’s jaw clenched, and Max lifted his hand to his mouth. “When was the last time you and Maddy had a Thanksgiving dinner, bird and all?”
I looked around at the insane amount of food. There would be no way we could eat all of this. Though with the way my mouth was watering at the smell alone, I’d definitely make a wholehearted effort.
“Um, I don’t know. Mads?” I asked.