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“On it. Kiss me?”

“Best request ever.” We shared a dizzying kiss. We were so good at this, I thought, as our lips clung for an extra beat.Happy sigh.

“I hope your day is awesome.” She took a step back and smiled, wearing pajamas in my kitchen. “We’re going to have Thanksgiving together.”

“It’s my favorite holiday. And I’m going to spend it with my favorite person.”

We shared the moment, smiling and reveling in this newfound domesticity. And then it occurred to me: These were all my friends. What about people she might want there? “Is there anyone you want to invite? The more the merrier.”

“Not this year. I want to focus on you and life here.” She lifted a shoulder. “I’ll call my family. I’ll FaceTime Jocelyn. We’ll invite them next year, right?”

Next year. I closed my eyes and absorbed the meaning. Warmth hit and spread from my chest to my limbs. “Yeah, of course.”

“Oh, and before you go…”

“Yeah?”

“Did you consider asking Jake? And maybe even Charlie?”

“Oh. I don’t think Charlie’s quite ready to break bread together, given our last conversation. Maybe he’s another one for next year’s list. But Jake is…trickier.” I didn’t know what to say. Because I had entertained the thought for all of three seconds before the intimidation factor had taken over and I’d shoved the concept to the side. “Might be too soon for that, too.”

“Dessert then?” She held up a hand. “I don’t want to push, but it might be nice for you to have…family there.” She’d said the word delicately as if not sure it was allowed. I appreciated her sensitivity.

“Dessert,” I repeated. Not nearly as big a time commitment, and dessert came with a come and go whenever casualness I could latch onto. “Maybe dessert. I’ll think on it.”

By the time my lunch break was over, I’d sent an invitation to Jake’s fairly dormant-looking Facebook page inviting him and Peggy for coffee and dessert. He probably didn’t even use the old account and wouldn’t see the message, but at least I’d made the effort and could feel good about that. But by late afternoon, when I hung up my newly acquired BeLeaf apron for the day and headed into the parking lot—nowlit up with a bright green BeLeaf sign—I had a message in my inbox.

Yep. Would love it. Peggy says she’ll bring her famous apple pie. See you then.

Well, hell. I stared down at my phone in surprise. It seemed we were doing this.

Chapter Twenty

Homemade Pie

Thanksgiving was a day of simple pleasures. The air was crisp with an autumn chill, and colorful leaves had finally drifted to the ground just in time for the holiday. A blessing. The meal had come together just as I’d hoped, and we’d stuffed ourselves over wine and the best conversation.

Presently, the Lions and the Bears battled it out on the TV in the living room while Kyle, Devyn, and I finished putting away the last of the Thanksgiving dinner dishes, the ones that wouldn’t fit in the now overflowing dishwasher. The day had been a memorable one. We’d all hugged and laughed and shared wine and all kinds of sweet and savory dishes across the long table in my formal dining room. This was only the second time I’d used it, having inherited it from Lindy. Everything seemed to have slowed down for us all to gather and celebrate the abundance we had in our lives, which very much included each other.

“It’s ridiculous to go for it,” Christian said, tossing his hand in the air. “This offensive coordinator needs to lose his job.” He sat back and shook his head. One thing we’d learned about him today was that he cared a great deal about football.

I smiled from my spot at the sink as I scrubbed a serving dish. “You tell ’em, Christian. Who goes for it on fourth and nine?”

“It’s honestly really hot,” Jonathan whispered to me. “He’s such a dude. I love it.”

“I think he lovesyou,” I said back quietly. “I’ve been watching. He smiles whenever you walk by and laughs the loudest at your jokes. Plus, he ate everything on his plate like a good little boy.”

“Look at us. With people,” Jonathan said, standing a little taller. “In relationships. I wish we could send their photos to our high school selves.”

“Young Savanna’s head would explode.”

“Young Jonathan thought he’d die lonely and limping literally through life.”

I turned to him. “God, he was so wrong. And don’t you ever again think such negative things about my best friend, or I’ll punch you in the face.”

He gasped. “I’m on crutches, you bully.” It was his favorite retort.

“Do I need to break you two up?” Kyle asked from her spot at the drying station. She tossed her hand towel onto her shoulder. The cream-colored sweater, jeans, and boots look was so catalogue perfect, it hurt to look at her. Cuddly and chic.