Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“I will, Mom.” He looked at me, and now that he had his coat off, I saw how the cornflower blue dress shirt he wore matched his eyes. “What would you like?”
“Water is good,” I said, desperately thirsty all of a sudden. “Thank you.”
We moved into the dining room, where a feast was laid out on the long rectangular table, which was covered with a snowy white tablecloth. I’d never seen such a gorgeous display. There were platters and bowls and tiered stands, all overflowing with things that made my mouth water. A wooden board laden with cured meats and cheeses and olives. A basket of crusty white bread. Bowls heaped with pasta. A tureen full of soup. A roasted chicken and a beef tenderloin. Vegetables like brussels sprouts, roasted fingerling potatoes, and sautéed spinach.
“My goodness,” I said, my eyes wide. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Just make sure you leave room for dessert,” Joe said. “The sweet stuff is in the kitchen. You’ll definitely want to try the cannoli.”
“I always have room for dessert. You’re going to need a bulldozer to get me home.” I began piling a plate with as many things as I could fit.
Joe returned with a bottle of water and laughed. “You can have seconds, you know. You get more than one trip.”
“Hush.” I took the water from him. “Make a plate and show me where to sit.”
After piling his plate even higher than mine, he led me into a high-ceilinged family room, where his siblings and their families were spread out on couches or at a round table and chairs. In the large stone fireplace, flames jumped and crackled. Holiday music played softly, and a tall Christmas tree dominated one end of the room, hung with all kinds of ornaments and strung with lights that gave the room a festive glow. Three older kids sat on the floor near the tree organizing gifts into piles by names, while a toddler did his best to “help.”
One couple sat at the table—it had to be Joe’s older brother, Gianni, and his wife, Ellie—and I realized I’d seen them before, probably at Dash and Ari’s wedding. Two more sat on the couches. I recognized Joe’s twin, Paul, from the wedding, and the blonde next to him must be his wife, Alison. The toddler, I knew, belonged to them. On the other end of the L-shaped sectional was a woman with Coco’s coloring holding a baby just a few months old, and seated next to her was a blond guy with a beard. Francesca and Grant, I assumed, and their new baby girl, Isla.
“Everybody, this is Mabel,” Joe announced.
Joe’s family all smiled and nodded or said hello, and Ellie gestured toward the two empty chairs at the table. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “Would you like to sit here?”
“Sure, thank you.” I walked over and set down my plate, and Joe followed.
As I ate—the food was incredible, and I not only went back for seconds but thirds, plus dessert—I chatted with Ellie about the pregnancy, her kids, the snowstorm, and being a working mom. Later we moved over to the couches and watched all the kids tear the bows and wrapping paper off their presents, shouting gleefully about what they’d gotten, holding the longed-for gifts over their heads, or jumping up and down with excitement.
Then Gianni and Ellie’s two older kids played elves and brought the adults any gifts with their names on the tags. “This big one says, ‘To Mabel, from Nick and Coco,’” read Joe’s niece Claudia. Smiling, she carried the giant gift bag over to me with both arms and set it at my feet.
Inside the bag was a beautiful, soft white fleece robe, a pair of matching slippers, and a gift card for a manicure and pedicure at a Cherry Tree Harbor salon. “Oh my goodness, this is so sweet of you.” I touched my heart and looked at Joe’s parents, who were seated together at the hearth. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
“Of course,” said Coco. “Every expectant mama needs a little pampering.”
When all the gifts had been opened, Joe and Gianni got down on the floor to help free Barbies and action figures from their plastic packaging and assemble toys. Ellie came to sit by me, a glass of red wine in her hand. “Can I get you anything?” she asked.
“No, thank you.”
“So it’s not really my business,” Ellie said quietly, “and you don’t have to answer this, but is there anything happening with you and Joe?”
I watched him putting together some kind of Barbie Dream House for his little niece Gabrielle and smiled wistfully. “You know what? I don’t even know how to answer that question.”
She laughed softly and sipped her red wine. “No?”
“No. I mean, originally, there wasn’t—not after the initial night that got us into this situation.” I patted my stomach. “We sort of agreed that was best. I didn’t want to complicate things.”