Page 94 of June: Jess' Story
“Really happy to see you,” I say quietly.
“Same,” he says back, giving me a quick squeeze, then releasing me.
“E!” he calls out to Elodie.
“Hi, Dad,” she replies but doesn’t even bother to get up off her stool.
“Great to see you, too,” Damian deadpans. Carly passes him a drink and a sympathetic smile, and he drifts off to the living room where the rest of the men are. Well, almost all the men. I’d be remiss not to mention Max who’s been sulking about the kitchen silently while the rest of us talk.
“Got 'em’!” Caroline says, holding a pair of shears in her hand. Oh good, glad we won’t be cutting my hair with crafting scissors, not that I would’ve minded if that’s all we had.
“Perfect!” I down the rest of my spritz and waltz to the back deck where I sit for the next 45 minutes as a type-A, 15-year-old cuts my hair with the precision of an expert neurosurgeon.
“Who is that, Eden?” The grandmother of all grandmas walks out to the deck carrying Eden. She basically hasn’t left her side since our epic meltdown at The Grounds earlier. And I do meanourmeltdowns. We both lost it there for a bit.
“Maaa!” she exclaims, though doesn’t make any move to rid herself of Sandy’s arms.
“Your momma looks so pretty with her fresh cut, huh?” Brit asks Eden. Brit has barely left my side since it all went down, too. She kicked Liam out of their bedroom so we could get dressed. She’s made me at least three cocktails. She even had Niko and Constantine pick up In-N-Out for us on their way over, which she insisted we eat in bed.
It’s been simultaneously the worstandthe best day.
“Almostttttt…done!” Caroline exclaims, circling me, examining the lines of my cut from different angles.
“Oh my gawd, you have never looked hotter,” Brit says while standing and coming over to run her fingers against the blunt edges. “Eee!” She even lets out a little squeal of excitement. I look at the faces of the women on the deck. My best friend, her daughters, Sandy, my daughter, and each has a look of utter love plastered on their face. (See, who needs men, my friends?)
My sweet potato casserole would have been a joke stacked against the meal laid out before us. Carly already has sweet potatoes done two other ways. I mean, really. It’s like she’s got sixteen hands or something.
The table in the dining room has been extended and believe it or not, it actually sits everyone here. (“Everyone” being Liam, Brit, Caroline, Elodie, Damian, Sandy and her husband Jim, Carly and her brother James, Constantine and his sons Max, Niko, and Silas. Then there’s Blanks, Eden, and me.) (Probably couldhave squeezed a few more people in, too, if I’m totally honest.)
“Hair looks good,” Damian says, then bumps his shoulder against mine.
“Thanks, bud.”
Under his breath, he asks, “Where’s your fiancé?”
Under my breath, I say back, “Long story. Not enough alcohol and too many people.” He nods in understanding and goes back to talking to Jim who is sitting on his other side.
“Well, it’s not every day we get to have Thanksgiving with a billionaire!” I hear Sandy exclaim defiantly to Liam. Caleb blushes.
“Mom, inappropriate,” Liam gently scolds her.
“Why?!” she asks honestly.
“Well, I mean you do sort of have a billionaire at the table…all the time.” Caleb looks around at Liam, Sandy, and the rest of the table that has now clued into the conversation. He clears his throat. “Alex was, um, just here yesterday.” This time it’s me choking on my spritz. Damian pats me on the back to clear the passage.
“Sorry,” I apologize and dab my mouth with a napkin. I just used a secret credit card my ex-husband gave me to buy airline tickets. I mean, the disparity between me and everyone else at this table feels even more vast.
No one else seems surprised by this except maybe Sandy and me. Everyone else just knew? Is being a billionaire like Fight Club? We just don’t talk about it?Cool.
“You didn’t know?” Damian asks out of the corner of his mouth.
“I hardly know him at all,” is all I say, staring at my mashed potatoes still swimming with gravy.
It wouldn’t have mattered. It doesn’t matter. But I guess it all sort of makes sense. But it’s also pretty clear that money isn’t important to him in the same way it is to others. (When you have a lot of it, it rarely is.)
I shrug, then just give Damian a closed-lip smile. He pats my leg under the table and while I zone out and focus on feeding Eden, the rest of the table’s talk resumes. The Scala boys are arguing over their latest golf scores. Constantine is telling Brit a story about her mom. Liam is just watching Brit, and attempting to force feed her every time there’s a break in conversation. And Sandy is cutting up bits of food for Eden in tandem as I pick them up.
And then there’s Caleb, who is just looking at me. I give him a genuine (looking) smile, one that I hope says, “See? I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.”