Page 49 of True Sight (Nat. 20, #4)

CONRAD

“ I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Margaret groans over her shoulder.

She’s perched on my couch petting Annie and waiting for me to be ready to go.

Whether we like it or not, it’s Thanksgiving and our odd and dysfunctional family is waiting for us to present ourselves as a happy couple.

The guys have hounded me for the last week about why I didn’t tell them about us and each time they did I had to come up with a different lie.

I hated lying to them and hated even more that I was keeping Henry from them.

There were so many times I came close to coming clean, but my brain wouldn’t let me say or type the words.

I was grateful we canceled our D and D session last night since we were seeing one another today because it was one less face to face I’d have to lie my way through.

“I know and I’m sorry again for roping you into this charade.” I really am sorry I have pulled her into my mess. Without her, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my secret for very much longer.

“Oh, Mills, you know I would do anything for you. You’re not really my type but I still love you,” she quips, giving me a snarky smirk.

“Besides, mama got a new pair of shoes out of this, so I’m happy to play along.

” She extends one leg out to show off the brand new pair of heels I bought for her last week.

Sure they are a third of my monthly rent payment but I owe it to her for playing along.

“Do you know how many times you have to wear those in order for you to make it worth the money that was spent on them?”

“Honey, I plan on being buried in these shoes. I don’t need to worry about wearing them enough to make them worth it, I can assure you of that.”

I shake my head at her and reach for my phone.

1 New Message: Dungeons and Dickheads

Hank:

You fuckers better be here on time and on your best behavior. Bailey has been cooking for the last 24-hours and is very stressed about making everything perfect.

Kolbi:

She shouldn’t be stressed, it’s going to be great. Does she need any help? I can have a car bring Ms. Ruthie and Magnolia over, they would love nothing more than to assist.

Malcolm:

And if her cooking sucks it won’t matter because we can just go to Butcher and Block for dinner. We kept the doors open today for people who needed a place to eat.

Hank:

Please don’t tell her that. She’s really worried you guys won’t like the food.

Kolbi:

We will love the food, brother. It’s going to be great.

Malcolm:

And if we don’t, we have a contingency plan.

Hank:

Malcolm I swear to god if you upset my wife I will end you.

Malcolm:

I’m pretty sure if I upset your wife, Ophelia would end me before you even got the chance.

I promise to be on my best behavior though.

Kolbi:

Just another day in the group chat where someone is threatening Malcolm’s life. How lovely.

Conrad, I’m excited to see you and Margaret together.

Yeah, sure, us too. She’s actually with me now, we’re about to head over.

Malcolm:

Ohhh, a little pre-dinner dessert Good man.

I grimace at my phone at just the thought of what Malcolm is insinuating before texting him back.

Fuck you, Malcolm

Kolbi:

Leave it alone, dude.

Magnolia and I are also coming by as soon as she and Ms. Ruthie are ready, as long as that’s okay Hank.

Hank:

Yeah, that’s fine, we’re ready for you. Maybe with guests over Bailey will stop fussing about me not sitting down so my pants don’t get wrinkled.

Why my wrinkly pants matter at all I don’t know, you’ve all seen me in worse states.

Malcolm:

Ophelia is going to call Bailey now and see if she needs us to bring anything. We’re on our way.

Kolbi:

Leaving in 10.

Same here.

“You ready to put on a show?” I look up from my phone and ask Margaret.

“Born ready, baby.” And while she might be smiling and confident, my stomach flips and churns the entire way over no matter how many deep breaths I take.

When we pull into the parking lot of Hank’s building and get out, Margaret steps up next to me and gives me an encouraging smile and bump in the shoulder before taking my hand into hers.

I guess it’s showtime.

The first half of the evening had gone over fine enough.

Everyone was polite and cordial and Malcolm had only been able to make one remark before Ophelia dug her elbow into his ribs and threatened to take away all sexual acts for a week which seemed to put him in his place.

Bailey, forever the expert party planner, had cooked up enough food for twenty people and it was all laid out on the table with precision.

All the sides you could want to be on your Thanksgiving plate were there as well as a perfectly roasted turkey set in the center of the table.

“Bailey, this table is fantastic,” Margaret compliments from her chair which is right next to mine. Everyone’s plates have been labeled and we sit right next to each other. I shouldn’t be surprised, we are supposed to be dating after all.

“Thank you. Magnolia helped me with the dinnerware and linens.” She tucks her chin into her chest and bows her head towards Magnolia who’s sitting next to Kolbi and Ms. Ruthie across the table.

“I love a good party.” Magnolia smirks and tips her glass to our host who toasts her back before they both take a sip of the champagne Malcolm and Ophelia brought.

“Well, let’s eat. Hank, would you do us the honors of carving the turkey?” Bailey asks, handing him the knife.

“Of course, hermosa.” Hank stands from the chair and looks at everyone around the table.

“Thank you all for coming this evening. Bailey and I are so thankful to call you all our friends—our family—and hope for many more Thanksgivings like this in the future.” When he raises his glass to toast, we all hold our glasses up in agreement.

Everyone around the table takes a drink as Hank starts to carve the turkey.

“Hopefully next year, your real date will be here.” Margaret turns her head away from the table to whisper into my ear.

I smile to myself, like I do so naturally every time I think about him.

We spoke earlier in the day and I know he’s out with his friends at Ellie’s bachelorette.

My heart squeezes in my chest as it hits me again just how much I miss him.

“Hey, no flirtatious whispering at the table you two,” Magnolia jests, staring us down from her chair.

“Baby, leave them alone,” Kolbi hushes, touching her on the arm.

“No, please, keep going. I’m dying to know the whole story of you two.” Malcolm uses the door Magnolia opened and stomps his way through it, seizing the opportunity to hound Margaret and I as the dishes make their way around the table.

“What do you want to know?” I’m surprised to hear Margaret say with great confidence. My head swings to look at her, eyes wide with confusion.

“How long have you been seeing each other?” Bailey asks, completely relaxed now that dinner is served.

“Please, child’s play,” Malcolm scoffs under his breath and shoots his eyes from Bailey to me. When his lips curl up into a slick smirk, I know what’s coming. “So how good is Connie boy in bed?”

“Malcolm,” Kolbi groans.

“So much for best behavior,” Hank sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair.

“Dude, fu—” I’m about to tell him off but Margaret grabs my hand and sets it on top of the table for everyone to see. Eyes glance between our hands and the two of us as she speaks.

“We’ve been together for about three months.

We’ve been keeping it between us because we wanted to enjoy it being our little secret.

An extended honeymoon phase, if you will.

” She lies with so much ease and confidence that it makes me nervous about what lies she’s told me in the past that I believed without second thought.

Her thumb starts to rub the back of my hand and she gives me a convincing smile of a girlfriend who’s smitten.

“And to answer your question Malcolm”—she turns and looks him dead in the eyes—“Conrad is an excellent lover. Always puts me first, never leaves me wanting for more.” I clench my jaw together to stop it from completely detaching from my skull and falling into my mashed potatoes. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Uh–y–yeah. Yep. That’s right.” I nod my head and try to hide my stunned disbelief at what she just said.

I glance around the table to catch everyone’s reactions and they seem to believe it.

Hank and Kolbi are suppressing their own smiles and are sharing smug glances.

Bailey and Magnolia fail to keep their mouths closed and are threatening to catch flies.

Ophelia and Malcolm look at us like two proud parents watching their baby take their first steps.

“I love this for you.” Ophelia sighs and shakes her head at us.

“Thanks, me too. Just like I love my Conrad,” Margaret nearly sings and turns to face me quickly. Before I can process what is happening, her lips are on mine and she’s kissing me in front of my oldest friends. The table erupts in hoots and hollers. When she pulls away, she winks at me.

“I love you too.” It comes out more as a question than a statement. She smiles at me politely and gives me a small nod as if to say ‘ nicely done, we’ve totally fooled them .’

“Alright children, that’s enough necking for now. Let’s eat,” Ms. Ruthie instructs from her seat while holding up a hand. The older woman is clearly unenthused by the play Margaret and I are putting on.

We all eat and talk about the year and how quickly it is coming to an end.

We go around and share one thing we’re grateful for, each one of us sharing something different.

When it comes to me, I feel the words sitting in the back of my throat, begging to be said aloud.

I’m grateful that I got to meet Henry Baker and that he’s my boyfriend .

But I won’t say that. I can’t. My mind and my mouth won’t let me so instead, I say I’m grateful for Annie and Margaret instead.

After the main meal is done and dessert is brought to the table, we all take a slice of various pies. Ms. Ruthie has made her famous double chocolate brownies that we all love and we each take one of those too.

“Why isn’t there a Thanksgiving cake?” Hank asks, studying the bite of pie that is hanging precariously from his fork.

“Thanksgiving cake, brother?” Kolbi questions, looking at our friend with furrowed brows.

“Yeah, a cake that you have specifically on Thanksgiving. We have Yule Logs for Christmas and birthday cakes for birthdays, why don’t we have a Thanksgiving cake?” Hank continues.

“Hanky boy, if you want a Thanksgiving cake, I’ll just cover my ass in gravy and we can call it good.” Malcolm smirks with a wink.

“Oh, gross, stop it you guys,” Bailey shoos them with her napkin as Magnolia uses hers to cover her laughs.

“Why don’t you ever offer to do that for me?” Ophelia chides.

“Princess, all you need to do is ask and it’s a done deal,” he growls and leans in to kiss her throat.

“That’s enough. We’re done talking about asses, okay?

This is a civilized dinner of adults, now please, have some respect.

” Bailey is trying her best to chastise the table but her broken laughs don’t help her case.

We all start laughing at the thought of us being anything that resembled civilized or adults.

I’m thankful she put a stop to the conversation because the talk of ass play is causing certain semi-pornographic images to pop into my head.

My heart quickens at the thought of him and the things we’ve done and now I miss him even more.

And want him more than I should, seeing as how I won’t be seeing him for another few days.

“To being civilized adults,” Kolbi teases, raising his glass to the table and pulling me from the thoughts of my illicit affair. Again, we all raise our glasses to toast and take a sip.

“To being happy and in love,” Bailey adds and we toast again.

“To being young and adventurous,” Malcolm says with an evil glint in his eye. Everyone rolls their eyes at him but takes another drink anyway.

“I’m much too old for this,” Ms. Ruthie chuckles and shakes her head from her seat, causing another round of laughter to overtake the table. Magnolia smiles and leans her head on the shoulder of her previous caretaker who kisses the top of it.

“To being a family,” I add, raising my glass to the center of the table. “And to accepting one another exactly as we are, no matter what.”

Everyone pauses and looks at me with surprised contentment.

“Cheers,” Kolbi replies first and everyone echos him.

As I sip on my champagne, my eyes glance at Margaret who’s already looking back at me.

We share a silent knowing of how much my words mean to me.

I want to tell them. I want them to know about who I am.

But more importantly, I want them to know about Henry.

But no matter how much I try, I can’t. I can’t bring myself to bare my true self to them.

I’m not ready to. Shooting back the rest of my drink, I set the flute down on the table and chew on my bottom lip, considering.

For a brief second I open my mouth to say it but what comes out isn’t what I know I need to say.

“I’m going to grab more champagne, does anyone want some?”

Maybe by the time Christmas rolls around I won’t be such a coward and I’ll be able to tell them, and show them, who I really am.