Page 107 of The Fine Art of Faking It
“I think it’s the tofurkey that’s sitting like a bowling ball in my stomach,” he told her.
“You didn’t have to eat it,” she pointed out.
“I didn’t want to be rude.”
“How many gas pills is too many?” Eden wondered. “Because I’m so bloated I could be a parade float.”
They helped each other up the wide front steps of Franklin and Phoebe’s pretty little craftsman cottage. Tucked away on a swatch of green grass at the back of the farm, it was a little slice of country heaven.
The lights were already on inside, welcoming them.
“Sweet baby cheeses! How many pies is that?” Eden hissed to Davis.
“Eight. Eight entire pies… and then that looks like a cobbler.”
Eden clamped a hand over her mouth. “Can we even do this?”
Davis glared at the desserts like he would a cloud of aphids. “You listen to me, Eden Moody. We can and we will do this. And then we will go back to the inn and get naked.”
She admired his blind, stupid faith in their sex drive.
Franklin busied himself lighting a fire in the great room’s fireplace. Aurora, who had eaten as much as two adults, was sniffing around the pies. “Can I have apple and pumpkin and cheesecake?” she asked Gia.
“Christ, Shortcake. Are your legs hollow?” Beckett asked ruffling her red curls.
“Gram, do you have whipped cream?” Aurora asked Phoebe and grinned up at Beckett.
The crowd groaned at the question.
“In the fridge, sweetheart.” Phoebe had given up on the wine. “I’m going to make the biggest pot of coffee in the universe,” she announced. “Anyone want?”
“Can you just inject it directly into my veins?” Summer asked.
Davis steered Eden to the couch by the fireplace. “Maybe if we just sit down for a few minutes, we won’t feel like vomiting anymore.”
With effort, Eden propped her denim clad legs up on the coffee table. “My biggest regret in life right now is that I wore jeans. I think they’re cutting off my circulation.”
Summer flopped down in the overstuffed chair next to the couch with a groan. “Rookie mistake not wearing pjs. The rest of us just get to go home and fall into bed.”
Summer was wearing a cute matching set of lavender thermal pajamas.
“Mama! I sit with you?” Meadow demanded.
“Okay, baby, but you’re going to have to climb up here yourself, or Mommy’s going to puke on your cute little head.”
“Okay, Mama!” Meadow scrambled up onto the cushion next to her mother and promptly flopped into Summer’s lap.
“Why, God? Why?” Summer wheezed.
“Do you do this every holiday?” Eden asked.
“Sure do!” Jax poked his head between Eden and Davis over the back of the couch. He was digging into a piece of pumpkin pie slathered with a tower of whipped cream.
“How can you eat, man?” Davis asked him.
“It’s his super power,” Joey said, slinking up behind them and laying across the back of the couch. “He can eat anything all day long.”
“Jackson always was an emotional eater,” Phoebe called from the kitchen. “Now, who’s ready for pie?”
