Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Her smile grew sunny, and she did a little hop when she said, “Right.”
Eric was there, handing her the Stasher. “That should be about two cups.”
She held it to her chest and cooed, “You’re a lifesaver.”
She then did the eye pinging thing again so Eric held out a hand and said, “I’m Eric. A friend of Jess’s.”
Hmm.
Was it rude not to introduce a guest you didn’t actually ask to be your guest?
“A friend,” she mumbled, taking his hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Alexis.” Then she exclaimed, “Right! Have to dash! Have a great Thanksgiving you two!”
After that, she pranced out as only Alexis could prance, considering she was a member of the ballet.
“Hup,” I heard.
I turned at this odd sound Eric made and caught the apple he sent flying my way just in time.
“You’re on peeling and slicing the apples. We’ll get the crumble out of the way. You didn’t brine the bird, so that means I gotta get creative.”
I stood, holding the apple and glaring at him.
“I’m not making Thanksgiving dinner with you.”
“You don’t help, you don’t eat. So it’s gonna be uncomfortable I eat in front of you while we watch Planes, Trains and Automobiles.”
Damn.
Awesome choice.
I loved that movie. Steve Martin was a comic genius, and John Candy left us far too soon.
It was also the perfect Thanksgiving movie, even if this day was the most painful day (says me) of anyone who had a disaster of a family.
I returned to the counter, put the apple on it and announced, “You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”
His black eyes came up from something he was doing with some kind of leafy substance on the counter and caught mine.
“I’m used to this,” I informed him. “No one ever drove a car through the front door on a holiday,” I referenced The Bear. “But we’ll just say, being at home by myself, burning a turkey breast and making the boxed stuffing soggy, regardless that I followed the instructions to the letter, is something I’m used to, and it’s vastly preferable.”
“My mom was killed in a car wreck when I was thirteen. It was Christmas Eve. She was bringing home a puppy for my brother and me for Christmas. The puppy died too. Dad was supposed to get the puppy, but he got caught at work. He did that a lot, with Mom covering for him, even though it annoyed her. Especially around the holidays, putting it all on her to do everything, which was probably why she was speeding, because she had so much shit to do. This meant he blamed himself. That lead to him hitting the bottle hard, and since then, he hasn’t found his way out of it.”
My brows shot up at his relating this brutal honesty even as my heart started hurting at hearing his distressing history.
Eric kept sharing.
“My brother turned into a piece of shit who blames the world for him losing his mom when he was eleven and his dad being a functioning alcoholic by day, a fall-down drunk at night. That’s manifested as my brother having three kids by two different women, and he’s deadbeat on all of them. He claims disability, even though that doesn’t stop him from going hunting or driving one of his buds’ jet skis on the lake every weekend, both while wasted. My father doesn’t touch base often, but every time he does, I brace for him to tell me Tim shot himself or someone else while hunting deer, or he drowned in the lake.”
He paused.
I said nothing mostly because I couldn’t find the right words to say.
Eric kept going.
“I haven’t been home in ten years, and before that, it was five, but the second time reminded me why I hadn’t been home in five, so that’s why it’s now ten…and counting.”
I found a word, it just wasn’t the right one, but I couldn’t stop it from escaping my lips.
“Whoa,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he stated.
“Why aren’t you with Mace and Stella or something?” I asked after a his-generation part of the crew who also lived in Phoenix.
“Because I’m here with you.”
“Did they ask?”
“Yes. But I’m here with you.”
Oh man.
Something weird was happening inside me. I didn’t know what it was. I’d never felt it.
But it felt warm.
And…
Gooey.
Gross!
And…
Shit!
“And I’m not here because I feel sorry for you,” he went on. “I’m here because we both have fucked-up families, and we get it. Today doesn’t have to be about counting our blessings and being grateful our lives are full of love. It can be about food, a funny as fuck movie, then more food and nothing else.” He tipped his gorgeous head to the side. “Now, Jessie, are you down? Or do I have to lug all this shit back to my place?”
My mouth made the decision before my mind did.