“Yes!” Hannah exclaims. “I need all the holiday cheer and spiked eggnog I can get my hands on.”
“Eggnog?” Katie cringes.
“Don’t even start,” Hannah says, holding up a hand in protest. “Shoot. Did we remember to chill the champagne for the mimosas?”
“I put it in there last night,” Hadley says. “Along with the sparkling cider for those who don’t want alcohol.”
“Those who don’t want alcohol,” Hannah scoffs.
The doorbell rings, ending their exchange.
“Can you get that?” Katie asks, turning to me.
I’m still a little groggy and feeling the warmth of my revelation as I pull open the door and find Hudson, Mila, and Evelyn on the doorstep.
“You really dressed up for the occasion,” Mila says, holding a basket of pastries in her hand.
Hudson grins, following the girls inside. “I like his style, better.”
The smoky, savory scent of bacon fills the air, pulling us toward the kitchen and dining room.
“It smells so good in here. What are you making?” Evelyn asks.
“Three kinds of waffles, three flavors of syrup, hot ham and cheese sandwiches, bacon, sausage, and cinnamon rolls,” Hannah ticks off each of them. “And we have mimosas and more pie than all of Oleander Springs can eat.”
“We’ll take that challenge,” I say.
Hadley grins as she plates a round of waffles, covering them with foil.
The doorbell rings again and for the next thirty minutes, the house is filled with Corey, Palmer, Grey, Lenny, Carsen, his roommate, Drew, and Brielle.
We spend the entire day eating and laughing, exchanging stories and jokes. Some play board games in the dining room, Hadley convinces a couple of people to start watchingOnly Murders in the Buildingand puts it on in the living room. It’s nothing like the Thanksgivings I had growing up at my grandparents’ farm. There are no pranks, and we don’t play football outside, but there’s a rightness here, a wholeness as so many parts of my life come together in one place so seamlessly.
“We should have dessert,” Katie says.
Hadley’s currently perched on my knee. While my friends knew—maybe before I did—that I harbored feelings for Hadley, today is the first time we can be a couple without any reservations, even in front of Katie. It feels monumental. It also feels amazing.
“I don’t know if I have room for dessert,” I say, placing a hand against my stomach, and my other hand on Hadley’s back.
“Maybe you’ll want a small slice,” Hadley says. “Or just a bite. Pumpkin’s your favorite, right?”
I hate pumpkin pie, but if she made me a pumpkin pie, I will eat every damn bite.
“Can I help?” I ask.
“Sure. I kind of went a little crazy.”
“I plan to make pie my diet for the entire week,” Hannah says, from her spot next to Katie on the couch.
Hadley grins, finding my hand as she stands. It’s another easy and natural gesture that feels entirely right between us.
I follow her to the kitchen where she pulls open the fridge to reveal a dozen cooling racks stacked, each adorned with a pie. Several more pies are already on the counter, waiting to be sliced into.
“Hannah wasn’t kidding,” I say. “How many kinds of pie did you make, Cutlass?”
“Caramel apple, pumpkin, pumpkin cheesecake, pecan, chocolate pecan, cranberry orange, and a pear and almond tart.”
“Did you sleep while I was gone?”