Page 62 of The Gift
“Julian,” my mother said, when I’d resumed my place at the stove. “I need your help. You can socialize atdinner.”
I bit back a sharp retort. I had zero interest in going to the city for dinner, as Marina suggested, but I could definitely see the attraction of a holiday where I could be the one cuddled up with Daniel on the sofa. I’d never say that to my mother, though. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to disappoint her that way. Con, Theo, and I were all she hadleft.
Still, I poured myself a glass of the wine Teresa had been drinking and gave thanks that this holiday was almost over for another three hundred sixty-fivedays.
* * *
“Pass the potatoes?”Con said, speaking through the mound of potatoes already in hismouth.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. It felt like eight hours had passed since we’d arrived instead of four. My back hurt from standing at the stove mashing the ten pounds of fucking potatoes he was shoveling into his gullet. My mother, who’d insisted on having Daniel come and promised to be on her best behavior, had barely spoken two civil words to him all afternoon. I couldn’t recall whether my aunt and cousin had always gotten on my nerves this much or were just particularly bitchy this year. My wine glass had somehow gotten emptyagain,which was weird since I never drank wine.AndI was seated across the table from Daniel, where I couldn’t even touch him, let alone lean into his side and smell his soap-and-Daniel smell, which I really, really wanted todo.
The empty wineglass, at least, I could do something about. I picked up the bottle from the center of the table and filled my glass halfway. Pacing myself, because Thanksgiving dinner was a marathon, not asprint.
Aunt Teresa passed Con the bowl of potatoes, but couldn’t keep from commenting. “You know, Constantine, if you keep eating like that, you’ll be the size of ahouse. ”
Con shrugged, completely unconcerned. “More of me to love,” he said,grinning.
“Speaking of which, have you been dating anyone?” She looked at himarchly.
I changed my mind and filled my wineglass to the top, then grabbed it like the lifeline it was, ignoring the look Aunt Teresa gave me. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t drink wine more often. The shit was actually prettygood.
“Mmm. Not really,” Con said. He glanced at my mother quickly and then busied himself scooping potatoes. “Nothingserious.”
“Now that your brother’s settling down, though,” Teresa continued, smiling at me from her seat at the end of the table. “Doesn’t it make you want to find someone foryourself?”
“Nope. I’ll leave that to Jules and Daniel.” Con winked at me. “Pass thedressing?”
I lifted the heavy bowl and handed itover.
“Julian and Daniel aren’t serious, though,” my mother interjected, taking a tiny bite of the turkey she’d slaved over all day. “They’ve hardly been together amonth.”
“More like two,” Sam said from beside me. She nudged me with her elbow. “Isn’tit?”
Uh. Shit. When had I said we’d started dating.HadI said? I couldn’t remember at all. I stared across the table at Daniel in apanic.
“Well, we were friends for a while first,” Daniel said smoothly, covering my lapse. “So it feels like longer than it’s been officially. Right,baby?”
Baby.I swallowed hard and set my glass down. “Right,” I agreed. “We’ve known each other since lastspring.”
“May,” Daniel volunteered. “Right before MemorialDay.”
I blinked, stunned that he’d remembered that, and I smiled broadly. “Exactly.”
“But the dating thing is new,” Mama continued. “And Julian is stillyoung.”
I turned to her and frowned. “I am?” at the same time Theo, on my left, said, “Heis?”
“He’s not even thirty,” the stranger inhabiting my mother’s body said airily. “Plenty of time for playing thefield.”
“Auntie, didn’t you just tell him last Thanksgiving that you wanted him to find a nice boy and settledown?”
My mother gave Marina an icy smile.“Settling down is one thing. Settling down toofastisanother.”
Con’s lips twitched like he was finding this very amusing. I was glad one of us was. “That’s funny,” he said. “You’ve always told us, ‘When you know, you know.’Wasn’t that the story with you and Dad? You met in Italy senior year of college knew each other for only three months before heproposed?”
“And Mama and Papa werenotpleased,” Teresa informed us. “That he was moving her away from the city and all herfriends.”
“John and I were different,” my mother said, cutting another minuscule bite of turkey. She didn’t elaboratefurther.
