“My mom always makes this amazing sweet potato pie,” Becca says, still working on the mashed potatoes. “She’s given me the recipe, but I swear it never turns out the way hers does.”
“That’s how my grandma is with her recipes,” Amber chimes in. “I think they leave out important ingredients or steps so that we keep coming home for holidays. My grandma’s homemade stuffing?” She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “That shit is magical. But she’ll never give away her secret.”
Becca smiles, giving me a wink when she catches me staring at her. But I just can’t help it. Seeing her in the kitchen like that — apron around her waist, natural curls bouncing with every laugh and turn of her head, smile wide and bright and full of love… it hits me hard in the chest, like a fist more than a feeling.
Because I can see it.
I can imagine us together, not just now but in the future, too. I can see her in our house, in our kitchen, with our family and friends gathered around us.
“What?” Becca asks, hanging a hand on her hip the longer I stare.
“You’re beautiful.”
I steal a kiss from her just as Amber makes a gagging noise. “Alright, that’s enough mush for me. I’m going to go watch Josh try to hit on Pamela.”
Becca and I chuckle at that. Pamela is Becca’s roommate, a sweet, shy, petite little white girl with dark freckles and long, brunette hair she always lets hang a little in front of her face, like she’s trying to hide from any and everyone.
Josh has been shooting his shot since the moment she showed up, and it’s been the entertainment of the day.
I told everyone that we’d have dinner around four, but that they were welcome to come to the house ahead of time to watch football and hang out. Most of our brothers clear off campus for the break, visiting their families, so we have the entire place to ourselves today.
Becca, Pamela, and Amber got here early, helping prep the food and cook and bake and set up the table. Josh stumbled out of bed around noon and plopped his ass down on the couch to watch football — and try his best to make Pamela uncomfortable, which was undoubtedly working.
But Erin hasn’t showed yet, and I can’t help but wonder if she will at all.
She’d been surprised to say the least when I called and invited her to Friendsgiving. But after asking if I was sure and if she could bring a friend, she’d agreed, and I’d be lying if I said my stomach hasn’t been in knots all day thinking about being around her tonight.
When Becca finishes mashing the potatoes, she washes her hands and dries them on a towel, looking around at the feast we’ve prepared. “I’d say we make a pretty good team, Chef Pennington.”
“You’re the chef,” I correct her, taking her in my arms and planting a kiss on her nose. “I’m just the big-fisted dummy you boss around to help you.”
She chuckles, threading her hands together behind my neck. “This was a good idea, Bear. The girls are having fun — even Pam, despite Josh being up her ass.”
I laugh. “Are you having fun?”
“I am.” She pauses, swallowing. “Is Erin still coming?”
I take a deep breath. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
As if on cue, there’s commotion from the living room, and Becca and I round the corner to find Erin giving Josh a hug before immediately introducing herself to Pam and Amber.
Herself, and then the tall, brooding guy she brought with her.
“This is Gavin,” she explains, and he shakes everyone’s hands with an easy grin before tucking his hands back in his pockets. He listens as Josh and Erin chat, his eyes wandering the room.
Until they land on me.
Then, they don’t budge.
He and Erin couldn’t be more opposite. Where Erin is sunshine embodied, from her shining blonde hair to the mustard yellow dress slimming her waist and cutting off below her knees, he’s like the dark side of the moon, dressed in black distressed jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt with the name of some metal band I don’t recognize sprawled across his chest.
He nods his chin at me after a moment, and it’s as if that notion knocks me out of my spell.
“You must be Bear,” he says, stepping around the couch to where Becca and I are. He extends his hand on a comfortable smile. “I’m Gavin, Erin’s boyfriend.”
I hope I’m hiding it. I hope my jaw isn’t as tight as it feels, that my eyes didn’t just shoot open as wide as I think they did when I snapped my gaze to Erin’s.
She’s still standing by the girls and Josh, holding a casserole dish in her hands, her wide brown eyes watching me.