Once I close it, I sit on my bed and stare at the computer she left behind.
Yes. I’m a glutton for punishment.
But I can’t stop myself.
I open it and type in our match on a different website hoping to get a different result.
And I do.
But this one is worse.
As a lover, the Sagittarius man likes to explore his lover’s mind, body, and soul.
I shut the computer and focus on getting ready.
I quickly shower off then throw on a soft crepe halter dress with an ombre wash that variegates from a pale pink at the neck to a deep orange at the hem. I pair it with white studded double strapped platform wedges.
My mind suddenly flashes to Aiden slowly taking this dress off me.
I close my eyes and indulge my mind for a few seconds before focusing on looking amazing.
I braided my hair while it was wet and let it dry in the sun, so I unbraid it, gently run my fingers through the soft waves and then add some balm to make it shine.
I stand back and study myself in the mirror. My face is tan and glowing, so I decide to skip foundation and blush and just add some sparkly pink eye shadow, a thin swoop of black liner, a bunch of mascara, and a peachy lipgloss.
I check the time and, seeing that I have a few minutes to spare, decide to check my phone.
There are texts from all of the Johnson boys, Maggie & Logan, Annie, and Katie, all wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving. But it’s Dallas’ text that cracks me up.
Dallas: Would it be in bad taste if I offered to share my wishbone with the governor’s hot 16-year-old daughter?
Me: You can always make me laugh. I love that about you. Happy Thanksgiving. Let me know if she decides to, uh, make a wish.
It’s noon in Vancouver, so I decide to call my family. I remember last Thanksgiving. The girls running around in little pilgrim headbands. Gracie wanting Tommy to buy her a pet turkey.
The phone is answered with, “Bonjour.”
“Well, bonjour to you. Is this Avery?”
“Kiki?!”
“Hi, sweetie. I just called to tell you happy Thanksgiving. Are you going to eat lots of turkey and stuffing today?”
She lets out a big sigh. “We were supposed to.”
“What happened?”
“Bad Kiki jumped up on the kitchen island and ate the turkey while we were setting the table.”
“Oh, no! I bet Daddy was mad.”
“He said merde. That’s a bad word.”
“Yes, it is. Why are you speaking French today?”
“I’m practicing. We’re moving to France!”
I let out a huge sigh of relief, knowing that Mom would never tell the girls unless it was a sure thing.
“That’s amazing! You’ll love it there.”
“Mommy says we’ll get to go to the store, and to the beach, and to the park there! We don’t get to here.”
“That will be so much fun. Can I talk to your sisters?”
“Sure! I’ll go get them.”
I hear her running through the house, her little bare feet padding across the hardwood floors. I swear, this time next year, I’ll be with them. No matter what.
I hear a chorus of, “Kiki!!” and “Happy Turkey Day, Kiki!”
Then, “Gracie, don’t grab the phone out of my hands! It’s rude!”
Then Gracie’s sweet little voice, “I miss my Good Kiki.”
“I miss you too, Gracie. I heard the puppy was naughty and ate your turkey.”
Gracie laughs. “Daddy was chasing after Bad Kiki and she had bones in her mouth. I laugh and laugh at Daddy and Kiki.”
“It bet it was funny. How’s Mommy?”
“She’s sick.”
“Sick?”
“Yes, she in bed wiff the flu.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“She sleeping. Daddy say, Girls, be quiet. But Daddy yelled at Kiki.”
“Where’s Kiki now?”
“Under Gracie’s bed. She know it safe cuz Gracie love her Bad Kiki. Daddy say Kiki might not go to France and Gracie cry and tell Daddy, Bad Kiki no go, Gracie no go.”
I can’t help but laugh. I so wish I was there, because even though the house is always filled with chaos, it’s like the perfect chaos. I hope Inga was right. I pray I live a long life and have a houseful of my own kids someday.
“Keatyn?” a deep voice asks.
“Hey, Tommy. Happy Thanksgiving. The girls said they’re moving to France.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you too, baby. Tell me you’re with some friends and not all alone.”
“I’m with some friends, Tommy.”
He lets out a sigh. “Good. One less thing to worry about.”
“Is Mom okay?”
“Oh, yeah, just the flu. Everyone on set has been sick.”
“Okay, good. I heard the dog ate the turkey.”
“Damn dog. She’s lucky she’s so cute and Gracie loves her so much.”
“I gotta go eat dinner, but tell Mom I love and miss her. And tell her next year things will be different.”
“I hope you’re right,” he says, and then we say goodbye.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I have pre-traumatic death syndrome or something. Every time I think of my future, I picture me dead.
Which makes me feel guilty, because I know Cooper’s Thanksgiving has to be rougher than mine.
Me: I was thinking of you today. I know it's gotta be tough.
Cooper: I was thinking of you today too.
Me: Don’t worry about me.
Cooper: Garrett says you’re not going back to school.
Me: I was going to discuss my plan with you after the holiday.
Cooper: Tell me now.
Me: Um, it’s still in the planning stages, that’s why I want to talk to you.
Cooper: Yet it sounds like you’ve made up your mind.
Me: I have about school. I just haven’t decided for sure where I’m going to live.
Cooper: Don’t take off on your own.
Me: I wasn’t planning to. I was going to ask you to come with me.
Cooper: See, you’re smarter than Garrett thinks.
Me: He thinks I’m going to do something stupid.
Cooper: Are you?
Me: I considered walking into Vincent’s office and telling him I want to audition for his movie.
Cooper: Tell me you scrapped that plan.
Me: Not quite yet. I wanted to get your thoughts. He’s like a bully, Cooper. Maybe I just need to stand up to him.
Cooper: There is a big difference between a bully and a sociopath. Do some research.
Me: Does that mean if I don’t go back to school, you’ll still help me?
Cooper: Of course.
Me: That makes me cry, Cooper. Thank you. I just want to be proactive instead of sitting around waiting for him to find me.
Cooper: Go eat some turkey. I heard your dinner smells amazing.
Me: Have you been keeping tabs on me?
Cooper: Absolutely.
Love song about her lips.
3:15pm
Damian and I are the first ones in the great room.
“This is crazy,” Damian says, pacing in front of me, holding a glass of wine. “I'm insanely crazy about her. I'm currently writing the world’s longest love song about her lips. She doesn’t have a boyfriend or anything does she?”
“I don't think she'd be kissing you if she did.”
“Trust me. That doesn’t stop a lot of girls.”
I touch his forearm and get him to look at me. “Damian, she felt it too.”
His eyes widen in shock.
“Seriously? Do you think that really happens?” He sets his wineglass down without taking a sip and starts pacing again. “Of course, it happens. How many times have we heard the story of Ab—” He stops in the middle of his sentence, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, when Aiden walks in the room. “Um, the story of Ab
erly and, uh, Fritz.”
“Who's Aberly and Fritz?” Aiden asks.
“They're my dad's friends,” Damian says, picking his goblet up and taking a swig before continuing. “I need something stronger than this. You like scotch, Aiden?”
“My dad is trying to teach me to appreciate it,” Aiden replies. “So tell us their story.”
As Damian plunks ice into two highball glasses and pours a 25-year old scotch over them, he says, “They come here sometimes, and they like to tell the story of how they met. Of how it was an instant, love at first sight thing. They've been together ever since.”
I smile thinking about Tommy and my mom. “Yeah, they're pretty amazing. I hope you can meet them someday.”
Because I do.
I think Tommy would love Aiden, and my mom would be as mesmerized by him and his wooing as I am. I think about Logan and his big gesture. About Aiden and the dirt. B and his sandycastles. My mom is into big gestures, and Tommy never does anything small. He whisked her away to St. Petersburg on their/our first date. And a few months later, he surprised both of us by remembering the day my dad died, by taking us to his grave and then later to the Santa Monica Pier. He’s never been threatened by our past, I think, because he’s confident he’ll be in our future.
Damian hands Aiden his drink as Peyton walks into the room.
She looks gorgeous.
Damian is staring at her, mesmerized. When she smiles the blazing love god smile, I see the same dreamy look in Damian’s eyes that I suspect is in my own when I look at Aiden.
Speaking of Aiden. He looks gorgeous too. His hair is slicked back, making it look darker. The scruff on his face is looking sexy as hell over his tanned face. He’s wearing a Rag & Bone pale blue gauze long-sleeved shirt, a pair of James Perse linen pants, and Prada criss-cross sandals.
Damian holds out his elbow to Peyton, whispers something in her ear that makes her blush, and then escorts her into the dining room.
Dinner smells fabulous, but looking at Aiden makes me hungry for only one thing.
Him.
Aiden grabs my hand, gives me a kiss, and leads me into the dining room.
We invite Inga and Sven to join us for dinner, but as is typical, they refuse. However, it’s mostly because they’re leaving early tonight to go to their daughter’s home for a family birthday celebration.
As Sven pours us each a cool glass of Pinot Grigio to compliment the turkey, he says, “Mr. Damian, I assume you will keep with tradition and do your father’s usual toast?”
Damian looks at me and smiles. “Keats, I think you should do it.”
“Um, okay.” I stand up, smooth down the front of my dress, and raise my glass into the air. “It’s times like these that we stop to reflect on our lives and the things we have to be thankful for. The great Thornton Wilder wrote, ‘We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.’ In other words, look at the friends gathered around you, at the food sitting before you, and the beauty that is around you. Happy Thanksgiving!”
We clink glasses and everyone says, Happy Thanksgiving.
“That’s a beautiful quote,” Peyton says. “What’s it from?”
“It’s from the play, The Woman of Andros,” I tell her. “It’s about what’s precious in life and how harsh the world can be. Wilder revisited that theme again in Our Town, when Emily dies and asks if anyone ever realizes what they have in life, while they are living it.”
Aiden and Peyton both look teary-eyed. I know they’re thinking about their mom and how even though she is with them, she’s not with them. In a way, cancer was sort of their Vincent, bringing chaos into their normal lives. “I’m very thankful to be here,” Peyton says. “Thanks so much for having us.”
“So, do you both like football?” I ask.
“Well, my parents are both originally from Georgia, but my mom went to college at Alabama and Dad went to Ole Miss. They’re big SEC rivals, so football is a dangerous subject at our house,” Aiden says with a grin. “It’s always funny when the two teams play each other.”
“How did they meet?” Damian asks.
“Dad interviewed Mom for a job. Their running joke is that he told her no for the job, but asked if she would interview to be his girlfriend.”
“What’d she say?”
“That she’d rather have the job,” Peyton says with an easy laugh.
“The Cowboys always play on Thanksgiving day. Do you like them?” I ask. “My grandpa lives in Texas and is a huge Cowboys fan.”
“I just like stuffing myself with turkey and then relaxing on the couch and watching any game,” Aiden says. “Although, here, I think I’d rather hang out on the beach.”
“You two enjoy,” Damian says, before stuffing his mouth with mashed potatoes. “I’m going to take Peyton into town after dinner.”
“Are you going shopping?” I ask, my ears perking up.
“Just some exploring and then we have our date,” Damian says very vaguely.
I get the distinct impression that I’m not invited.
“Exploring, where?” Aiden asks.
“Just into town.”
“Somewhere safe?”
“Um, yeah, of course.”
Aiden nods and says, “Okay.”
Very quickly, we’re stuffed, and Aiden and Damian are both moaning that they couldn’t possibly eat another bite.
Until Inga offers them a piece of pecan pie and they both are like, Oh, maybe just a little slice.
Peyton and I help clear the table, but Inga shoos us out of her kitchen.
Damian grabs Peyton’s hand. “Don’t wait up,” he tells me with a big grin on his face.
Aiden smiles at me, rubs his tight stomach, and pulls me into a hug. “Alone at last.”
“Do you want to go down to the little beach cabana? It’s shaded and has a comfortable bed that’s great for naps.”
“That sounds perfect,” he replies.
We walk hand in hand to the beach and snuggle up on the raised platform bed filled with brightly colored pillows. I lean on Aiden’s chest and stare out at the water in a happy food coma.
Your lips on mine.
8:45pm
“Hey, Boots,” Aiden says, waking me up.
“Oh, wow. Did you fall asleep too?”
“Absolutely.”
I snuggle into his arms, my ear on his chest, hearing the beat of the heart I'm going to break along with my own in just two days.
“We were up early.”
“And we played hard,” he says with a grin.
“What time is it?”
He glances at his watch. “Almost nine.”
“Oh my gosh, we slept forever.”
“And believe it or not, I’m hungry again.”
“Let’s get a snack and take it back to my room.”
He touches the strings of my halter. “I was serious when I said I wanted to undress you.”
I hold my breath as he touches my shoulder. There’s a huge part of me that wants to skip the snack but, yet, I want to take it slow. Enjoy the whole night. The whole experience. Savor it like it’s my last meal.
We head to the kitchen to make turkey sandwiches and grab one of the fruit and cheese trays that Inga always leaves for late night snacking.
“Do you want some wine?” he asks.
“Sure, pick something out.”
We walk to the turret, into my room, and then set everything up on the desk.
I throw open the windows, so we can hear the sounds of the ocean, and light the candles.
“I really liked your toast today,” Aiden says.
“Thanks, I didn’t make it up or anything but I think it’s a good thing to hear on Thanksgiving. It helps put your life in perspective. I think it’s easy to get so caught up in the everyday stuff that we forget to look at what’s really important.”
“What’s really important to you?”
“Same as everyone, I guess. Health, famil
y, love.”
“I agree. Although I might add a few things to that list.”
“Like what?”
“The sound of the ocean, watching the sun set, a good glass of wine, and your lips on mine.”
“The simple things in life are the best.”
“As long at it includes a castle on the beach, Little Mermaid?”
“I don’t really need a castle, Aiden, but I do need the ocean every so often. The waves calm me and make me feel peaceful—centered, almost.”
“You seem like that in your loft too.”
“I do,” I say with regret, knowing I won't ever be going back there. That I'll be hiring people to pack up everything and put it in storage. Except for two things. The book of Keats poetry, which has Aiden’s four-leaf clover pressed in it, and the shoes I wore to my birthday party. Those will be sent to wherever I am. “Really, I'm comfortable lots of places. I love the vibrancy of cities like New York and Paris just as much as the ease of a house on the beach or in the country. I don't really know where I want to live.”
Or even if I'll live.
“What's that?” Aiden asks, holding up his hand and walking over to the window.
“What's what?” I ask, following him.
“Shhh.”
I listen quietly and then hear it. Giggling.
“Where's it coming from?” I whisper.
The Keatyn Chronicles: Adore Me Page 8
