Page 112 of Tracing Holland

“Or you could sit quietly and not scare away my boyfriend.”

She scrunches her nose and studies me.“Nah, he’s not scared.I’m pretty sure if Sylvie’s Casey Barrett obsession hasn’t accomplished that, we’re good.I mean, are we not going to discuss what happened in the foyer?We’re just gonna pretend that was totally healthy?”

“She’s got a point, Holland,” I admit.“To be fair, I haven’t seen ‘The Room’ yet either.”

Hannah laughs.“Ok, whew.Don’t let him.He’s growing on me,” she whispers to Holland.Her phone buzzes and she curses.“Ugh, work again.Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

“Sorry about her,” Holland mutters once we’re alone.

“Are you kidding?She’s amazing,” I say.

“Of course you’d think that.She’s the female version of you.Except a lawyer.”

I laugh.“So you’re dating your own sister?That’s not Pavlov, babe.Whole new ballpark right there.”

She rolls her eyes, and I give her a quick kiss.The sweet moment turns more urgent when she pulls me in for another one.

“You had to mention Pavlov, didn’t you,” she breathes.My own pulse starts to pick up, excited by her as much as the stolen moment.

“You just like how much I’m impressing your family.”

“You got me.You’re killin’ the small talk, hon.”

“And that veggie platter.”

“So hot.”

“You know, Holland’s old room may be an office now, but I think there’s still a futon in there,” Hannah quips, and we freeze before exchanging a grin.“That’s a thing, right, Hol?Quickies in your childhood room?”

Hannah ducks as a pillow flies toward her head.

Dinner is delicious,the conversation flows, and I find myself laughing and joking during a family meal for one of the first times I can remember.

Holland and I are cuddled up on the couch, watching the Jays continue their playoff bid with James, when Annie interrupts the game carrying an armload of equipment.Sylvie and Emma are close behind, neither of whom look thrilled.

“Ok, everyone up!”

Holland groans.“Seriously, Mom?Right now?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.How often do I get my entire family under the same roof?Where’s Hannah?Hannah!”

I’m still confused as Holland reluctantly straightens from my arms and starts adjusting her clothing.

“What’s going on?”I whisper, and she rolls her eyes.

“Family picture,” she explains.

“It’s tradition.We’ve had one every Thanksgiving since Holland was born,” Annie explains as she begins unpacking what I can now see is a camera and tripod from its case.

“Well, technically since before she was born, eh?”James corrects, lowering the footrest of the recliner.“You were pregnant with Holland that first year, weren’t you?”

“Was I?”

“At least we don’t have to wear matching outfits anymore,” Hannah snickers, entering the room.

“You girls were so cute in your little matching dresses.We should do that again.”

“Over my dead body,” Holland mutters.