Chapter 12
Not only had West convinced me to go to meet his family, but he’d also managed to convince me to take more time off on the ferry ride back. Every day he’d supplied me with some new adventure and spoiled me with fantastic breakfasts. Thanksgiving morning was no different.
“Don’t look so smug,” I said to West as he slid the plate of pancakes topped with my homemade strawberry jam across the table to me.
“What?” He cocked his head. “I’m not smug. I can just tell you’re enjoying having a whole week off to yourself.”
I rolled my eyes. It was the first whole week I’d taken off since Bobby died. The thought made my jaw clench and West reached over and tapped the plate in front of me.
“No, none of that. It’s okay to take time off when it’s not for bad things.” Our eyes met, and my chest rose.
“You’re right,” I said as he came around to sit next to me at the island. “And it’s been great adventuring around Boston.”
West took a sip of his coffee before wiggling his brows at me. “Favorite part so far?”
“Mhmm.” I looked at the ceiling and then down at him. “Jesse’s reaction when I called him on Monday and said I wasn’t coming in until next week.”
“I think I’m seriously failing if that’s your favorite part of this whole thing.” West popped a piece of pancake in his mouth, and I laughed as his eyes sparkled, a spot of whipped cream on his lips.
Whipped cream, now that was definitely one of the highlights. West licked it off his lips, and I shook my head.
“Was that your favorite part?” I asked.
His chest rumbled with that perfect laugh, making my body warm. “No, actually it was watching you with that little laser and the penguins. Your expression was priceless.”
“Come on! Penguins chasing a laser shaped like a fish? Like a cat would do?” I put my head in my hand. “It was adorable.”
“Just like you.” West leaned over and gave me a strawberry-tasting kiss.
I closed my eyes. “This is my favorite part.”
“What?” West’s hand cupped my cheek, and I turned my lips to his palm.
“Being with you.”
“We’ll just have to make sure we do this more often than,” West replied as I opened my eyes. “And find more things for you to be adorably fascinated by.”
My phone buzzed on the counter, showing a text.
DAD – You’re still coming, right? Three o’clock?
“My dad is convinced I’m going to bail on this whole Thanksgiving thing.” I shifted in my chair as my body flushed with uncomfortable heat. The memories washed over me. Bobby’s face when he lost the game of pool and called out mine and Adam’s ‘magical tattoos.’ The way Mom looked at me with such disgust, and the way Adam crumbled against me later on. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Approaching the end of the year meant the bad memories were becoming fresh wounds again. “I kind of want to.”
West pulled me into his arms, and I sunk into them. The memories kept flashing, but his warmth eased the steady ache in my chest from overcoming me. “The first year is the worst. It’ll get better with each one.”
He looked down at me and kissed my forehead. “And I’m going to be right here making sure that you don’t drown.”
“You know what I’m most thankful for?” West’s chin shook. “You.”
My cell phone buzzed again. Another text from Dad. I picked up the phone, and West took it from me, standing and putting it to his ear.
“Sometimes a phone call is better,” he said to me. “Hey, Joel, it’s West…yeah, I just wanted to reassure you that we’ll be there. Are you certain there’s nothing we can bring? Pumpkin pie?”
He went to the cabinets and opened a few before answering, “I think we can pull that off. Sorry to hear the dog got into it! Yeah, we know how that is.”
“Dog?” I mouthed.
“Dog sitting can be a handful,” West said, giving me a wink. “Glad to know you’re willing if we ever decide to head off… Las Vegas?” He laughed, but it had an awkward tinge to it. “I can’t even get Riv to go to Connecticut to gamble!”
My eyes widened, and I wondered if the mention of Las Vegas had less to do with gambling and more to do with something else. I stood and went to get the ingredients to start making the pie.
West slipped my phone into my back pocket. He lowered his head, his breath easing over my neck. “Let me help with that.”
“I can handle this.” I looked up at him. “Why don’t you make some more of your famous whipped cream?”
He raised an eyebrow before pulling me into his arms. “How much should I make?”
“More than for the pie,” I replied.
~~~
I smiled over at West as the dining room began to hum with conversations. Dinner was my favorite part because Mom and Vickie wouldn’t be paying attention to me. West squeezed my knee underneath the table.
“This isn’t so bad,” West said, leaning over and whispering in my ear.
I nodded as I held back the urge to say yet. I wanted to be positive like West, but my stomach clenched as I glanced over at Vickie and Mom talking to a cousin of mine. Angela was a few years older than Bobby, already in her thirties and married with two kids.
“So, I saw a picture of Adam the other day,” Angela began, and I felt my whole body tense. West looked up, following my gaze. “Quite the tattoos. Kind of like David Beckham.”
West choked on his dinner roll. He was far more like David Beckham than Adam. Adam hardly had the build, hair or nearly enough tattoos. I glanced over at West, and he shook his head, opening his mouth to start a conversation to distract me. I narrowed my eyes at him before looking down at my plate and tilting my head to hear better.
Mom replied, “If you like that sort of thing. No offense, Vicks, but it’s kind of dirty looking.”
My stomach flipped.
“No offense taken,” Vickie replied, and her tone was cool and clipped. “I agree completely, but he’s still not talking to me.”
My eyes drifted up to Angela who looked down at her plate of food with her shoulders tense. “Well, the artist did a good job.”
West’s hand went to my knee again, gripping hard. My face burned.
Mom’s head jerked back as she scoffed. “If you call that art.”
I looked over at West, who stared down at his food, thin lips set in a hard line.
“Don’t listen to them,” I whispered to him and he shook his head.
“West,” Mom called across the table, and he squeezed his eyes shut before plastering on a smile and looking up. “You’re an artist. What do you think of tattoos? Is that art?”
It was Dad’s turn to choke on his food. Our eyes locked and I tried to beg him to help silently. He reached over and squeezed Mom’s hand. “You know, dear, some people, especially those of our kids’ ages actually like tattoos.”
It was too hot in the room, and sweat began to bead on my neck. I slid my sweater off without thinking, and West’s mouth dropped open.
“Shit,” I said to myself as my eyes fell on my arm. I looked up at Mom, but she was still looking at West and hadn’t noticed. I tucked my arms under the table and West relaxed a bit, but there was no way for me to pull my sweater back on without showing the ink on my arm.
“I know Adam through my work. I appreciate his tattoos,” West finally replied. “They have a lot of meaning to him, so they’re more than art or just tattoos.”
Mom blinked at him before nodding. My jaw went slack. Was she going to drop it?
“Did Adam buy one of your pieces?” Vickie asked.
West’s lips moved up as he nodded. “Yeah, a few.”
“Mhmm,” Vickie said as she reached for her wine glass. “And what does a piece cost?”
He shrugged. “Depends on size and intricacy. They’re all custom.”
“That’d explain that lovely car you have,” Mom added, winking at me. There was the word lovely again.
“The job certainly does pay well, and I get to do what I love every day,” he said before picking up his fork to begin eating again.
“I’d love to see some of your work sometime,” Mom said, and I couldn’t help smiling.
“I’m sure you’ve seen some of it and didn’t even know it,” he replied, glancing over at me as he took a bite of stuffing.
“That popular?” Vickie asked.
“Yeah, you probably see it everywhere and don’t even notice,” I said, finally finding my voice. I was guilty for enjoying this, and Dad could tell. He raised an eyebrow at me and my stomach clenched. I leaned over to whisper in West’s ear. “We should tell her tonight.”
West nodded. “Once the crowd has thinned out?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“We’ll make sure it’s not too much of a surprise, break it to her easy.”
I looked over at him, and he sighed before leaning back in his chair. He was just as nervous as I was.