In a weird case of déjà vu, I'm staring at myself in Riley's bathroom mirror once again. Only this time I'm not wearing a cheerleading outfit, thank goodness. I tug on the maroon sweater that had ridden up along my torso as I was fixing my hair, until it falls back into place over my black pants.

"I can't believe I'm back here again so soon," I tell Riley, wondering why I'm going to all the effort to try to look good when I doubt that Larson will even be coming. It’s Thanksgiving, so I suppose I should look decent, but I certainly shouldn’t worry about getting all dolled up.

Despite my many attempts to contact Larson that had started to border on desperate, he never called me back. And I can't say I blame him. So I stopped calling him.

"Well, I'm certainly glad you're back, and that you'll be back a lot more often," Riley says.

She pops her head out of the door to check on Caleb and Drew and James, who are all playing in the living room.

"Yeah, I'm really glad I get to work here in Albuquerque," I tell her. "And to see you guys more often. It's a little hectic though, getting established working in two places at once."

"A little" is an understatement, but I'm trying not to complain on Thanksgiving. I was already too much of a spoilsport on Halloween and I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, even if I did mess things up with Larson.

Today is a day I'm supposed to be grateful, and I am, for Caleb, and a way to make good money to support him, and for having such a good friend like Riley. But I sure wish I hadn't screwed up things with Larson.

And I wish that Steven would stop hounding me about agreeing to the parenting plan he wants. It's bullshit since I know he won't honor the timesharing plan and he just wants to get out of child support. I don't want Caleb to be with him in New York while I'm in Albuquerque. Caleb barely knows Steven.

I also wish Clay would stop being so fucking aggressive.

As if reading my mind, Riley says, "How's working for Clay going?"

"About the same as working for a giant overgrown toddler," I tell her, sighing. "He's demanding, clingy and throws a temper tantrum when I don't or can't do all the many tasks he constantly wants me to do.

She frowns.

"You must be so stressed."

"I am," I admit, although I hate fessing up to my own vulnerability. "I just don't know how this can work out for long."

"I understand," she says. "That's part of why I left big law firm life. The law is a jealous mistress. Isn't that what Voltaire said? Or someone said. I forget who."

"Well, you didn't even have a toddler," I tell her, then realized I nearly snapped.

"I'm sorry," I quickly add. "I don't mean to be so irritable. I know I’ve been grumpy often lately and I’m really trying to adjust my attitude."

It was a lot easier when I had Larson to calm me down with his big cock, I think. But I keep that thought to myself.

"Financially, yes, not having any children at the time made it a bit easier,” Riley says. “But change is always scary no matter what. And now that I do have a child, I think that emotionally…"

She pauses, as if not wanting to offend me.

"Emotionally it would be harder for you to work so much and never see him," I fill in for her.

"Yes, something like that," she says.

"I think of that all the time," I admit. "How much I'm missing out on with Caleb because of work. And how I'll never have any time for any kind of relationship, even if…"

Now I'm the one who trails off, afraid of where my ramblings might lead me.

"Even if it could work out with you and Larson," Riley finishes for me.

I shrug, not even wanting to entertain that thought.

"That's over," I tell her. "I can't get my hopes up about that any more. I mean, yeah, it was fun while it lasted, but we're two totally different people. And he's so closed off about whatever happened with his past and yada yada yada. He's obviously no more ready for a relationship than I am."

"Brynn, he came all the way to New York to see you," she says. "It's not like that's really his scene. He couldn't even ride his motorcycle there."

We laugh. But she does make a good point.

"He was obviously ready to take a big chance on you," she says. "But…"

"But I blew it," I tell her. "I know. I'm really mad that Clay had to choose that one weekend to come into town and ruin everything. It's almost as if he knew."

"You know…" Riley says, and she blushes a little bit in that way she has that tells me there's something she doesn't want to tell me.

"What?" I ask her. "What do you know that I don't?"

"Well nothing for sure," she says. "But I've been thinking about how strange the whole timing of all of this was. And I've had this sneaking suspicion for a while now that this might be all my fault."

"How could it be your fault?" I ask her.

"Well, I was at a pro bono charity event with some people from my old firm who had been at Clay’s Halloween party. They had seen you and Larson dancing at the party, dressed in matching costumes, and were asking about you guys."

"Oh great," I groan.

Now I'm the talk of the town. The girl who slutted it up on her trip back to Albuquerque.

"No," she insists, shaking her head. "Like, in a good way. They said you were really cute together and were wondering whether you were an item, because Clay had been asking about you. I told them you guys had just met but had hit it off so well that Larson was coming to visit you in New York that upcoming weekend."

"Oh."

Suddenly a fuller picture falls into place. I can see it now: the lawyers at this other firm telling Clay that I'm with Larson now and that it's so serious he's visiting me in— hell, they probably even said he's moving to— New York.

This business is cutthroat like that, with anyone doing whatever necessary to get clients. They were undoubtedly using Clay's crush on me and the fact that I was in a relationship with someone else as an opportunity to steal Clay away from my firm and to their firm. But Clay took it as a challenge.

"So that's why Clay came to New York that weekend," I say. And maybe it's also why he orchestrated this whole local office idea.

"Yeah, that's what I've been thinking," Riley agrees. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you until now. I just didn't know how to say it or what you would think of me. Even though I didn't mean to say the wrong thing. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I tell her. "I can certainly understand what that's like. There's a lot of miscommunication going on these days."

"Yeah, you never got to tell Larson what happened that weekend, huh?" She asks, nodding sympathetically.

"I didn't," I tell her. "And it's too late now. Time to accept that and move on and focus on this new opportunity."

I can't help but crinkle up my nose when I say "opportunity." Because it's more like a forced opportunity than a chosen or desired one, and I think that Riley knows that.

"I wouldn't say that," Riley says.

"Why?" I ask her. "You said he wasn't coming today. Right?"

My body tenses in excitement, wondering if there's some chance that something has changed.

"He said that, but then I tried to talk some sense into him the other day, and left the door open for him to change his mind," Riley says.

"Oh."

My shoulders slump back down even though her statement sparks a little hope in me.

"And now I'm trying to talk some sense into you," she continues.

"Into me?" I tell her. "I don't need sense talked into me. I have all the sense in the world already."

"Usually I'd say that was true," Riley agrees. "But in this situation, I have no idea what you're doing.”

“What do you mean?”

I’m a little hurt.

“You’re only here because Clay needing you for that merger project right?” she asks.

I shrug sheepishly.

“Well, yeah. I mean, he’s the client.”

“But if he had needed you in New York— or if Paul or Jane or another partner had needed you— then you would have spent Thanksgiving there.”

I nod.

“Where do you even want to spend Thanksgiving?”

“Here,” I tell her. “With you guys.”

“But you wouldn’t have gotten the time off if Clay hadn’t arranged this deal. You can never come for Thanksgiving.”

“I have to work, Riley.”

“I know that. But it just gets to the point where you have no say so in the matter and you kind of become a victim of your own helplessness. You’re flying back and forth at Clay's whim and thinking about what everyone else wants instead of what you truly want. And not even doing everything you can to explain to Larson what happened and why."

"I've called him so many times and he clearly doesn't want to talk to me," I interject, upset that she's acting like I haven't tried hard enough.

But as she raises her eyebrows at me I realize she's right: I haven't.

"Anyway," I tell her, changing my argument and defense. I’m beginning to feel like she’s trying to be my big sister or mom instead of my best friend. I get her point and now I just have to think about what to do about it. "It's not like I'm the only one who hasn't told him what's going on. He won't even tell me what's up with his entire life situation."

"Have you asked him?" she asks.

"No," I admit. "He told me some pretty vague stuff and left it at that and said he didn’t want to say more right then so I didn’t push it. But it was supposed to be just for shits and giggles, remember? You told me not to ask unless I truly want to know."

"It sounds like you truly want to know."

Riley says it so emphatically yet gently that there's no more room for argument left. She's right. I have to do everything I can to see if there's still any chance for Larson and me.

I vow to write him an email as soon as I get the chance, explaining everything and asking him to meet with me.

"Dinner's ready!" Jensen announces, from the kitchen.

"Looks like we'll have to pick this conversation back up later," Riley says, as we begin walking out of the bathroom.

I don't see the use, when Larson's still not here. But I remember to be grateful, on Thanksgiving.

"I think you've gotten your point across," I tell her. "And I appreciate it. Really."

"Time to eat!" Caleb says, rushing up to me and taking my hand. "Gobble gobble!"

I look down at my little guy, who's so excited to start the holiday season that it's contagious.

"Yes it is!" I tell him. "We're going to gobble till we wobble."

"Gobble gobble, wobble wobble," he says, wobbling like he's going to fall over as we make our way to the dining room table.

"Happy Thanksgiving everyone," Jensen says, as we gather around the table. "We Bradford Brothers wanted to cook a nice meal to thank our ladies for everything you do for us."

"Awww," I coo, along with Riley, Whitney and Monica.

"And you too, Brynn, Blaze and Cassidy," Riley chimes in. "You're always welcome here of course. You're all like part of our family and welcome any time."

Blaze is there with a friend of Whitney’s whom I’ve never met.

"Thank you. This looks delicious," I say to Jensen. "Everything looks perfect."

I look at the stuffed turkey, expensive wine and Caleb's beaming smile and I am truly grateful.

There's only one thing that could make it more perfect, I think, but that's not going to happen.

And then I hear the sound of an engine pulling up and cutting off.

"Mo-to-cycle!" Caleb announces. "Larson! Larson!"

I want to tell him not to get his hopes up. I want to tell myself that same thing. But before I get the chance, Larson's at the front door.

He's holding flowers, and he looks better than I even remember.

Suddenly this really is the best Thanksgiving ever. And all I want to do is eat this meal with Larson and then serve myself to him as dessert.