Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, broccoli, corn, baked macaroni and cheese, and three different kinds of rolls.
There would be enough leftovers for a week.
And we hadn't even gotten to the desserts. There were Christmas cookies, of course, but those didn't even count. Pies were the name of the game for Christmas.
Apple because it was Cam's favorite.
Pumpkin because it was mine.
Chocolate cream because it was Astrid's.
And then there was a cheesecake too, a special one that had two slices of each flavor - plain, chocolate and Nutella, cherry-topped, and caramel.
But it was early.
We had learned several years before that getting dinner on the table around four meant we had several hours to not feel disgustingly full before it was time for dessert.
"You could go take a walk," I suggested, knowing she had no intention of doing so.
"You shouldn't have let me have thirds," she added, rubbing her stomach as I carefully packed all the leftovers away into plastic containers because I knew if I left it for later, we would all go to bed without doing it, and would waste all the food.
"Hey now, this is the how many-ith year in a row that you couldn't control yourself? I think we are beyond the shame on someone else thing, and have fallen squarely in the shame on you area."
"Shush with all your logic. How are you not in pain?" She asked, shooting Cam small eyes.
"Cam knows how to ration himself unlike some people."
"It's not a holiday if I don't feel like I am going to throw up."
"How eloquent. Have you considered working in the greeting card industry?"
"Are you almost ready? We are ready to see a Santa-suited JTT being chased around the desert by a buzzard."
She might have made fun of it, but it never escaped me that when it got to the point where JTT's character changed the words of "O Christmas Tree" for a couple, that she sang along about fucking someone on the Christmas tree skirt.
I put on the coffee, climbing onto the couch, feeling both Cam and Astrid move on at my sides, cuddling up, and these were not cuddling people. And for just a little while, for just a few moments while we watched Christmas movies and cuddled under blankets on the couch with full bellies and happy hearts, I was able not to think about it, not to wonder what it would be like if he was there with us, what he would get us, what we would get him, what movie he would pick for his choice.
"Okay. I am going to go make slow, sticky love to this caramel cheesecake in the privacy of my own room," Astrid declared sometime around ten that evening after having already sampled a bit of everything else on the dessert menu.
"Have fun," I told her with a smile that didn't quite reach my bleary eyes.
"This was the best Christmas ever," she declared with a genuine smile.
She said it every year.
But, what's more, she meant it every year.
"You look beat," I said, looking over at Cam with his heavy eyelids.
He'd been out the whole day before, not coming home until after I had climbed into bed.
Where? I didn't know.
And I couldn't exactly ask him either.
He still had his secrets.
And no one begrudged him them.
We figured he had his reasons for them.
He gave me a nod, slamming a hand down on my knee to help him get to his feet, reaching down to fold up his blanket and pile it next to the one Astrid had folded as well - something neither of them would have thought to do before Roderick had stayed with us.
He ran a finger down my nose, a sign of affection for him, before moving off toward his room.
I turned off the TV, the lights, staring at the tree for a long moment.
We would leave that on all through the night, wanting to see it if we got up to get a snack or head to the bathroom.
Because we all knew the tree would look different the next day, it would have the power to make us all feel a little sad, knowing it was over. So we didn't want to lose a moment of the good feeling it gave us on the actual day.
I was just finishing cleaning up the turkey pan, knowing that one in the sink would prevent me from piling all the others in there when I heard footsteps behind me.
"Done making love already?" I asked, smiling as I turned.
But it wasn't Astrid.
No.
It was Camden.
And he was standing there with a box wrapped in silly wrapping paper - Santa-hat-wearing penguins on a purple background - in his hands, his head ducked to the side a bit.
"You forgot one?" I asked, drying my hands.
His head shook.
"Were saving it for later?" I guessed, watching as he gave me a tight nod, setting the box down on the dining table, then taking a few steps back.