My Groom Fled the Wedding, So His Father and His Guides Kept Me novel · Chapter 18 of 24
Chapter 18: Thanksgiving
On Thanksgiving I got up at four and put a twenty-pound turkey in the oven.
Rolf had found it at the bottom of the chest freezer in the boathouse, under three seasons of halibut.
"Nineteen pounds, eleven ounces," he said, holding it up in both arms. "I weighed it. I've been saving it since August."
"For what?"
"For you. For a reason. I didn't know what the reason was."
Jesse made four pies.
He made them in a row on the counter with his sleeves up and a streak of pumpkin on his cheek.
He sang under his breath the whole time.
Beck peeled potatoes in a chair by the stove.
He did it exactly, one potato at a time, and every peeled one went into the pot with a small clink.
I stood in the middle of it all, in an apron, basting.
The kitchen smelled of sage and butter and woodsmoke, and the window over the sink was white with frost.
I thought: I live here.
The thought arrived whole, and I did not argue with it.
At five I rang the bell.
It was dark already.
They came in stamping snow from their boots, in clean shirts, with their hair wet from the sauna.
They stopped in the doorway of the big room.
The rest of this chapter is part of the paid portion of the series. Chapters 1–6 of My Groom Fled the Wedding, So His Father and His Guides Kept Me are free to read — start from the beginning, then unlock the rest with coins in the app.
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