A Story to Tell Your Friends

Thirty-Nine.

“Does anyone need a hand?” I asked, smiling weakly from the doorway of the kitchen. The boys were currently running around after Joe’s kids and watching TV, so I figured I’d at least try and be helpful and see if May or her mom needed a hand with anything. I was going for the charming guest today, rather than the nervous one.
“No, we’ve got it,” May smiled, though the flustered look on her face and the small sheen of perspiration on her brow gave her away. Her mother, however, looked perfectly collected. I suppose thirty years of Thanksgiving dinners for her children had made her the pro. However, I was still sure May needed help dealing with mass amounts of stuffing and cranberry sauce she was currently contending with.
“You sure? I make a mean stuffing,” I replied, my own smile a little stronger this time. “Besides, the boys are having the time of their lives watching football. I need something to do.”
“Well, I mean, if you insist, I suppose I don’t mind if you help with the stuffing.” I grinned, making my way to the other side of the island and picking up the bowl that had the beginnings of a stuffing mix in it. It seemed like May had started and gotten distracted by the twenty other things she had going on.
I immediately picked up where she had left off, messing around with ingredients while the other two women worked in silence on their tasks, seeming to be ultra-focused upon their given tasks. I knew how intense Thanksgiving prep was and while the silence wasn’t giving me much chance to bond with the pair, I knew it was necessary to stop any of us beginning to stress.
I jumped as I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I’d been so concentrated on what I’d been doing for the last few minutes I’d completely lost track of everything going on around me. I’d moved on from stuffing to keeping track of the cranberry sauce while May checked the turkey, trying my best not to let it burn and ruin the entire thing. Stuffing I could handle, putting me in charge of an actual sauce that I can actually burn is a completely different story.
Walking into the kitchen to see my three favourite ladies like this <3
I looked up from my pan, seeing Jack smirking in the doorway. I scowled, knowing he’d just been stood there watching us for at least a couple minutes. Jack had posted a picture of me, his mother and May in various positions in the kitchen, checking our respective dish. Judging from the smiling faces we were showing, it had been a little while since then as it looked like it had been when May had been in the oven checking the turkey and making jokes about how badly this could go wrong. Apparently, she wasn’t usually in charge of turkey, who knew?
“You could’ve helped, asshole,” I snapped playfully. He moved further into the kitchen, his smirk turning to a grin as he sat himself down on a barstool and began picking and prodding at what we’d already made, his mother swatting his hands away from everything she could.
“But taking pictures and watching you absolutely crap yourself is much funnier,” he responded, laughing.
“Language, Jack.”
“She called me an asshole, and you’re telling me off for ‘crap’? Really, mom?” I snorted, knowing that come Christmas this would be decidedly different. I’d be watching my language and getting chastised for my occasional slip ups, whereas Jack would be inadvertently swearing like a sailor with no consequences. A stern look from his mother quietened him, and I allowed a smirk to form on my face as I turned my attention back to the pan I was currently in charge of.
“Here, quit your complaining and try this,” I said, lifting the spoon up from the pan and pushing it toward him. “Let’s make sure I haven’t ruined it.” He took a small mouthful willingly, mulling it over as if he wasn’t sure what his response would be. I rolled my eyes, waiting for him to stop being a pain in the ass.
“My girl can cook,” he decided, finally.
“If by your girl, you mean May, yes she can. The best way to describe my capabilities is that I can manage to not ruin things in the space of 10 minutes.”
“It’s better than I can do,” he shrugged. “There’s a reason I’m not allowed to touch any of the food in here. I turn everything to mush. Charred, disgusting mush.”
“You do that on purpose and you know it,” May accused, pointing the turkey baster at him as she closed the oven door. “We could have taught you to cook years ago, but you purposefully ruined the pie and we’ve never trusted you since.”
“Hey, I’m a man. I shouldn’t know how to do these things!”
“Alex cooks,” I pointed out. “It’s not like it’s the 50s any more!”
“Alex isn’t a man,” he scoffed. “He’s a soft little girl and he knows it.”
“As opposed to you, Mr Manly?” He smiled softly, seemingly content. I didn’t know why he would be looking content at me insulting him, like I normally would, but I was always glad to see him happy. It’s not like it was an infrequent occurrence, but it made my heart surge and I became happy just because he was. It was beginning to feel like as long as Jack was happy, I was happy. Honestly, I didn’t mind one bit.
“You guys go relax,” May insisted, scooting me away from the pan. “We’re about done here. I just need to set the table and we’re good to go.”
“On it,” Jack responded, grabbing my hand and pulling me away before I could offer to help some more. I scowled briefly, to which he only continued to smile at me and lead me away. “Are you having fun?” He asked, finally stopping in the hallway between the dining and living rooms. The boys were being loud enough in the front room that it made no difference; Jack and I could all but shout each other and nobody would hear.
“I am,” I answered honestly. “I know I’m not a very good cook, but it’s relaxing. And May and your mom were just getting on with things. It was nice not to feel like I had to make conversation with everyone.”
“I know what you mean. You looked like you’d forgotten you were nervous.”
“Honestly, I had,” I shrugged.
“Good,” he grinned, pushing a small kiss to the top of my head. “I’m glad you’re finally relaxing. Just let them see why I love you and they’ll love you even more.”
“Or they’ll think you’re a masochist and call an intervention.”
“I’m willing to take that chance, cutie.” I leaned onto my tiptoes, pushing a small, soft kiss to his lips with a smile. I adored almost every word he said to me and I knew I wouldn’t ever get enough of him or his cheesy grin.
“I love you.” I watched his eyes brighten and his smile creep wider at my words and my heart began to pound. I loved the way he loved me and how happy he was just to see me happy.
“I love you, too.” I felt my own smile widening and I knew he could see that that thought alone made me happy too.
I huffed as I pulled my vibrating phone from my back pocket, unhappily tearing myself out of Jack and I’s bubble. Tammy’s name flashing across my screen made me feel a little less annoyed at the interruption, but only a little. He grinned, seeing my frustration before telling me to go talk to her.
“How’s it going, Boo-Boo?” She trilled before I could even greet her. I rolled my eyes, grinning as I made my way to the closest bathroom to talk without being in anyone’s way.
“You sound half cut,” I laughed. “Are you and Chris going with a liquid Thanksgiving?”
“Something like that,” she replied. “But you didn’t answer my question!”
“It’s going okay,” I shrugged, ignoring the fact that she couldn’t see the action, finally making my way into the bathroom. “Everyone seems nice and I haven’t pissed anyone off yet, so that’s a bonus.” She clucked her tongue at me through the phone, annoyed with my generalisations.
“No. How’s it going? I need details.” I bit my lip, debating what I would tell her now and what I would fill her in on when I returned. However, the thought of Jack’s smiling face not two minutes ago overpowered my planning.
“This trip is the best thing we could have done,” I gushed, perching on the edge of the bathtub and holding the phone close to my ear. “I mean, his family at least pretend to like me and I just feel closer to him than ever.”
“You were inseparable as it was,” Tammy laughed back to me down the phone. “’Closer than ever’ doesn’t leave much space.”
“Fuck off,” I laughed back, “you know what I mean. Like, the other night he was telling me about his sister planning our wedding gift. No flipping out, none of that typical male stuff. We’re getting to know each other outside of our little LA bubble. Tell me that’s not the best thing that could have come out of this trip.”
“Okay, okay, I get you. So, they’re nice?”
“Amazing.”
“Good.”
“Now you. Why are you half drunk at 11am?” I heard her snorting through the phone.
“Chris’s family came down to surprise him. I’m hiding out in his bedroom because his sister is a bitch.”
“Ouch. However, getting drunk to avoid people is my thing. Put the glass down and kill her with kindness.” I could almost see her pouting as she sighed and I knew she knew I was right. She wasn’t one to avoid people and she was almost insistent upon making a good impression on people. If anyone could change someone’s opinion of them in the space of a day, it was Tammy.
“Fine. I’ll go. You go live your perfect meet-the-family dream while I content with bitchy real life.”
“You’ll be fine. Go. Have fun.”
“Love you, honey-boo.”
“Love you, cutie pie!” I laughed as she hung up the phone and felt myself relax. She was right. This was going pretty much perfectly, and having her drama to set it off against (while unideal and I wouldn’t wish it upon her in a million years) helped me see how well it was going. Everyone was so nice and I’d just spent the past 24 hours telling myself I was imagining it. I would know if there was something wrong and, right now, there was absolutely nothing wrong at all.
I smiled to myself, pushing my stray hairs behind my ears, pocketing my phone and making my way back to my boyfriend.
♠ ♠ ♠
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