Page 32 of Reunion

“Cole?”

“Hmmm?” I snapped back to attention.

“I asked if I should bring anything for Thanksgiving. I could make an apple pie.”

“Bet you could. Fuck, look what’s happened. I now associate anything involving fruit with sex. You’ve brainwashed me.”

Dane laughed. “I bought a cantaloupe the other day and thought of you. I’m saving it for the weekend.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll see,” I hedged, knowing whatever he had in mind, I’d probably be down for. I took a brief detour to a fantasyland that involved him running cantaloupe cubes over my abdomen, lapping up the sticky sweetness. I could go for that.

We tackled the logistics of Thanksgiving, and then Dane sighed. “I’m really sorry about your job.”

“I know. I am, too. I’m just trying not to think about it right now. It’s shitty timing for a lot of reasons.”

“All around. But we’ll figure it out. And I want to help you if I can in some way.”

I smiled into the receiver even though he couldn’t see it. “You’re helping by spending Thanksgiving with me. I thought you might already have other plans.”

“Nope.” He chuckled. “Actually, I was invited to a potluck, but you’ve now made it very easy for me to say no.”

“Are you sure? Don’t mess up your plans for me.”

“I want to spend Thanksgiving with you.” He cleared his throat. “I’m spending it with you. The end.”

15

Dane

Cole’s house was a lively chaos of activity with a soundtrack of football in the background. I’d been to his house for Thanksgiving one other time, our sophomore year when my parents decided on a last-minute trip to Europe that I refused to go on because it meant I’d miss part of the next week of school. In the end, I’d been glad I’d stayed, greatly preferring the homey Thanksgiving atmosphere of Cole’s house to impersonal hotel rooms or day trips to wineries or art museums.

Cousins raced back and forth between the kitchen, living room, and the back patio, while Cole’s mom, uncle, and Grandma Merkle presided over the cooking.

“Happy Thanksgiving. I’m so glad you came!” Elizabeth wrapped me in a hug as soon as I appeared in the kitchen, and I set down the bottle of wine I’d brought to return it emphatically.

“Is Cole hiding from being put to task?” I asked with a laugh when she released me.

Grandma Merkle scowled. “Yes, he’s—”

“He’s right here, and no, he’s not. He’s being tackled viciously by children with no concept of sensitive body parts or personal space.”

I turned with a grin in time to see Cole twist away from an attempted rib cage tickle attack and then scoop up the child and hoist her, squealing, over his shoulder.

“Gotta live one. Do we need another turkey for the oven, Ma? This one giggles instead of gobbles.”

“We can always use an extra turkey. Is that one plump enough, though?”

The girl shrieked and dissolved into laughter as Cole swung her down and gave her a narrow-eyed inspection. “I think she needs another year or so. Marni,” Cole explained sidelong to me as she scampered off. “My cousin Sara’s kid. Don’t even try to keep track, though. There are way too many.” When he wandered close enough, I reeled him in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hi.” He murmured the greeting into my ear as I let my hand graze his lower back, the cashmere sweater he’d stolen from my closet on his last visit infinitely soft beneath my fingertips.

At that moment, I decided he should keep it, and plucked at the back. “Navy is your color.”

I felt both Merkle and Elizabeth’s gazes like a weight and turned to find them smiling.