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Joanie calls her realtor friend to get her house up on the market then heads home to pack a few boxes of essentials.

Cooper helps since my dad isn’t supposed to be lifting heavy things, and we order in dinner from Desmonds. It’s as we’re sitting around the dinner table that Cooper says, “My family is coming into town for the holiday. I’d love if you all joined us for Thanksgiving on Thursday.”

My heart pounds in my chest. I love the idea of spending the holiday with Cooper, but what I don’t love as much is the idea of doing it with my dad there. That would mean Cooper’s entire family would have to keep up the lie about our relationship in front of my father, and that’s just not fair to anyone.

Joanie glances at me first and then my dad. “I think it might be a little much for Troy, but you should go, Gabby.”

Relief rushes through me.

My dad nods. “I agree. It hasn’t even been two weeks since the draft, so I should probably stay home a bit longer. But bring me some turkey.”

“I bought a turkey,” Joanie protests. “I’m cooking for you!”

My dad winks at me. “Bring me some turkey,” he whispers.

We all get a laugh out of that, and I turn toward Cooper. “Count me in. I’d love to see your family again.”

He nods. “They adored you when your dad sent you to hang with us in Chicago.” He says the words carefully—as if he purposefully chose to remind us all that my father was the one who pushed me to go to Chicago.

“I adored them as well. I can’t wait to catch up with Marissa.” I was only there a few days, and most of it was spent at the hospital, but I felt a bond form between Marissa and me in that short time, like if we had the chance to get to know one another in a different environment, she could become like a sister to me.

And maybe someday she will become like a sister to me—a sister-in-law. It’s a strange thought to have as I shove another forkful of lemon chicken in my mouth beside my father who is still oblivious to everything.

“How’s your brother doing, Cooper?” my dad asks.

“It’s been two months since his heart attack and from what he said, he’s doing great. Seems like it was a wake-up call and he’s been avoiding salt ever since. Marissa tells me he hasn’t backed off work much, though. Still vying for partner.” He shrugs as he says it.

Joanie purses her lips and inclines her head toward my father. “Sounds like this one. You can avoid salt all you want, but the stress of the job isn’t going to go away.”

My dad barely refrains from rolling his eyes as he blows out a breath. “I know, I know. And I’m taking it easy as promised.”

“Yeah, but for how long?” I ask pointedly.

“I’m not giving up my career because of this,” he says. “It’s one setback. I’m fixed now. I’ve got a lot of years ahead of me.”

“You better,” I say, reaching over and squeezing his forearm. “I just found you. I’m not losing you anytime soon.”

He grabs my hand and squeezes it, and Ruby Sue breaks the tension in the room by setting a paw on top of our joined hands.

Cooper leaves after dinner, citing house preparations as his reason since his family is arriving tomorrow. He has spare bedrooms to check and grocery lists to make.

“Need any help?” I ask, and he nods.

“If you don’t mind, I could definitely use some help with the meal planning for Thursday.”

“It’s Monday, Coop. You haven’t planned your Thanksgiving dinner yet?” my dad asks.

He shrugs. “Been busy picking up all the slack at the stadium. I could use some help with putting the guest rooms together, too. I have clean sheets but none of the beds are made.”

My dad narrows his eyes at Cooper, and I giggle.

“Good thing you ran into me, then. Let’s head over to your place,” I suggest.

We leave shortly after that, my dad none the wiser to our real intentions this evening.

Or at least my intentions.

He really does need help with the meal planning. “So…I have no idea how to make a turkey,” he begins as we drive together over to his place. “I was thinking about those meals grocery stores and restaurants offer where you just pay per person and get everything you could ever want.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, but that’s no fun.”

“You know how to make a turkey?” he asks.

I laugh. “Uh…no. But I have this funny little rectangle thing that I can fit in the palm of my hand that will tell me how.”

He thins his lips as he gives me a look, and I laugh again.

“YouTube, baby. It has all the answers.” I shrug.

“You want to YouTube a Thanksgiving dinner when neither of us have any idea how to cook a turkey?” he asks, total disbelief evident in his voice.

“I think it could be fun,” I admit.

“Okay, so we make a turkey together. What else?”

“What are the other traditional sides?” I start numbering them off on my fingers. “Stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits, cranberry sauce…”

“Sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, macaroni and cheese casserole,” he adds.

I glance over at him. “You’re really into casseroles.”

He lifts a shoulder. “My mom’s a good cook, which is why I feel like I should order in. I never learned how, and I want to impress her.”

“Don’t you think she’d be more impressed that her son and his girlfriend cooked for her?” I press.

“Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “And pumpkin pie.”

“Right. We can totally do this. It’s only like ten dishes plus the turkey.” I lost count, but I’m trying to minimize how much work this is actually going to be.

“Do you know how to cook?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nope. But you’re never too old to learn.” I glance over at him and study him for a beat. “Well, maybe you are.”

“Hey!” he protests, and he reaches over and grabs my knee in the exact right spot that sends me into cackles.

Yeah…this is going to be fun.