I am thankful for a lot of things this year.
I am grateful for how quickly my body healed after my injury. Especially given the life-changing phone call I received from the owner of the Chicago Tornados last night.
I am thankful for my friends who still have my back and my family for welcoming me home with open arms.
And, I’m filled with gratitude for the time I spent with Cohen. For the gifts he gave me. For the love he showed me.
Want to know what I’m not thankful for?
This Thanksgiving dinner. Because I’m sitting across from Brooks and Anna, and it’s awkward as fuck. This time, Cohen isn’t by my side. Without him and the secret bliss we shared, my anger toward Anna, Brooks, and the entire situation vamps up.
We got this. I got you.
Cohen’s voice echoes in my mind, and the backs of my eyes sting.
Unlike at the ski chalet, I’m on my own. Right now, I’m mad at Anna and Brooks for that, too.
“Oh, the turkey smells delicious,” Aunt Karen, Anna’s mom, gushes.
“Gotta love a good turkey,” Uncle Jim tacks on. I can tell he’s uncomfortable by the way he looks away every time our eyes meet. Not that he’ll say it, but Uncle Jim was never Brooks’s biggest fan. Not when I dated him, and certainly not now.
“I hope it’s moist,” Aunt Karen continues.
Dad rolls his eyes at the head of the table. Avery hides his snicker in his fist. Mom gives them a scolding look and sets the turkey down in the center of the table.
“Dinner looks delicious, Mom,” I say, meaning it. I haven’t been home for Thanksgiving in years. This spread, this day, with my family, wraps me in a secure hug I didn’t know I needed. In fact, a part of me craves it.
“Thanks, Rai.” Mom beams as she slides into her seat.
“Where’s Cohen?” Aunt Karen asks, beaming at me. “We heard he doted on you at the chalet.”
Across from me, Brooks straightens, and Anna’s eyes widen.
“He did,” I agree. “Unlike this guy.” I gesture toward Brooks. “Brooks was never a doter. More of a taker.”
Dad chokes on his wine.
“Zing,” Avery mutters.
“We should’ve seen that coming,” Uncle Jim muses. I’m not sure if he means Cohen and me dating, or my comment. He lets his statement hang in the air for an uncomfortable second before he continues. “That boy was always around.” He glances at Avery, who is trying to stifle his laughter. “And I doubt it was because of your friendship.” His eyes dart in my direction, then away.
I appreciate his support, even if I don’t know how to react.
So, I take a gulp of wine.
“Cohen’s not feeling great,” Avery fibs, covering for me.
I give him an appreciative smile and he winks. For a second, it’s like we have our own inside jokes. Secrets. For years, that connection was customary for Anna and me. We could hold a conversation through a series of eye movements and facial expressions.
It feels good to share that with Avery. It’s cool of him to stick up for me.
“Too bad,” Aunt Karen clucks. “I was looking forward to seeing him. To seeing you two together.” She smiles at me.
“Shall we begin?” Mom interjects, recentering the conversation.
“Aren’t we going to go around the table and say what we’re most thankful for?” Anna asks, trying to catch my eye.
I sigh. This was another one of our traditions. We used to love making our family members share the highlights of their year.
I polish off my wine. Dad leans over and refills it without commenting.
My blood warms and I meet my cousin’s eyes. “Are you grateful for my forgiveness after you stabbed me in the back?”
“Damn, Raia,” Avery mutters.
Anna sputters. Her mouth opens and closes several times, but no words come out. Brooks glares at me, but he doesn’t stick up for her either.
Disappointed, I take another sip of my wine.
“I thought you said the air was cleared,” Anna finally replies.
I shrug. “I was feeling generous at the ski chalet. Our friends were there. I was with Cohen. I didn’t want to ruin the weekend for everyone.”
“But you want to ruin Thanksgiving?” Brooks asks.
I smile spitefully at him. “I thought I was enhancing it. I can’t wait to hear what you’re thankful for.”
“Let’s say grace,” Aunt Karen decides, her tone chiding.
“Sure,” Avery agrees. “We could all use a little divine intervention right now.”
Dad snorts. Mom blushes.
I take another gulp of wine before setting the glass down.
“What you should be most thankful for—” Dad says, pointing at Brooks. “—is that either of these talented young women”—he gestures between Anna and me—“ever gave you the time of day.”
“Joe!” Mom hisses.
“I’ll drink to that,” Uncle Jim mutters.
“Oh, dear.” Aunt Karen fans herself, flustered.
Anna turns beet red. Embarrassment washes over Brooks’s face, but he doesn’t reply. Does he ever stand up for anything? Or anyone? Even himself?
“Pussy,” my brother mutters.
Anna grips Brooks’s wrist.
I pick my wine glass back up and take another swig. For good measure.
I glance around the table. Is this happening right now?
I titter out a laugh, shaking my head in disbelief.
Are we seriously having a Thanksgiving Day showdown? With Dad and Uncle Jim at the helm?
I watch as Anna tries to smooth over the awkwardness. I don’t jump in to help her. I don’t do anything but sip my wine and watch the scene unfold. Like a bystander. As if this isn’t my family, Brooks isn’t my ex, and Anna didn’t betray my confidence.
I watch and I drink, and I try not to laugh.
“Well,” Anna cuts in. “I’m most thankful for Brooks, and the connection we have.” She turns to look at her boyfriend. “I never expected—”
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Cohen says, appearing at the entrance to the dining room.
Cohen. Cohen’s here?
I sputter on my wine.
Dad gives me another refill.
“Seriously, Joe? She’s going to be drunk!” Mom hisses, darting to her feet.
“You earned it, kid,” Dad murmurs.
I grip the stem of the glass hard enough to crack it.
“Cohen! We’re so glad you could join us.” Mom embraces him. “Here, I saved you a seat.” She ushers him into a chair while Avery grabs another place setting. “I made the candied yams you love.”
“And the turkey looks moist,” Aunt Karen adds.
“You’re feeling better?” Uncle Jim asks, leaning over to shake his hand.
Cohen stares at me, his expression unreadable. I can’t blink. Can’t speak.
What is he doing here?
What does he want me to say?
“I can’t stay,” Cohen says, holding up his hand to Mom as she sets a plate in front of him. “I just came to say something. To Raia.” He looks at me again. His green eyes glint and his jaw is determined, his mouth set in a line.
He’s focused. Committed. Diving in headfirst.
But this time, I want in on the freefall.
“Raia—” he starts.
“This year,” I cut him off, “I’m grateful for my fake relationship with Cohen.”
The table quiets. Everyone stares at me.
But I’m not nervous. I’m not on edge. I’m leaping.
Aunt Karen gasps, clutching her proverbial pearls. Uncle Jim looks dumbfounded. Anna and Brooks, surprised. Dad, truly bewildered and a touch angry.
Mom, relieved. Avery, proud.
And Cohen. Cohen stares at me in disbelief.
I take a sip of my wine for luck and continue. “Because it turned into the most meaningful, terrifying, exhilarating, and beautiful relationship I’ve ever had. Even when I didn’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you,” I tell Cohen, shrugging one shoulder. “You were patient when I was reckless. You were understanding when I was uncertain. You had my back. You showed up for me big, Cohen. So big. I learned more about the type of relationship I want, about who I am, in a few fake weeks with you than I thought possible. I know I hurt you and I am so sorry. But Cohen Campbell, I’ve loved you since I was a kid. And now, I’m in love with you. Crazy in love with you. And I’m terrified. Because it’s the most exhilarating and beautiful thing ever. I want you, Cohen. I want it all with you.” Tears well in my eyes as I lay it all on the line. Every fear, every desire, spilled onto the Thanksgiving table with my family bearing witness.
I stand and the room spins as the wine rushes to my head. I shake it off and round the table to Cohen. He’s staring at me in awe. Wide green eyes, a slightly parted mouth, and disbelief in his expression. I giggle before I dip my face and kiss him hard on the lips, proving the veracity of my words.
“Wait a minute,” Aunt Karen whispers. “They weren’t really dating?”
“Shh!” Uncle Jim hushes her.
“You faked it?” Brooks asks.
Avery slow claps.
I pull back from Cohen and wait for his response.
“You mean it?” he asks, his eyes locked with mine.
“Every word,” I promise.
Cohen smiles and it’s breathtaking. Relief swims in my veins and I kiss him again.
“Well, good,” Cohen chuckles.
Avery snorts. Mom sniffles.
“Because I came here to say that I am so goddamn grateful for you, little Raia Callaway.”
“Language,” Aunt Karen reminds him.
“Shh!” Anna hisses.
“And I’m done waiting. We’re supposed to be together. For real. For keeps. And I came here to tell you that I’m not walking away.” He grins. “You beat me to it.”
“Because I always win,” I remind him.
He laughs. “Yeah, champ. You do.”
“Get him a glass,” Dad tells Avery.
Avery holds out a wine glass that Dad fills.
“A toast,” Dad says, lifting his wine glass. Mom passes me mine and everyone at the table raises their glasses. “To family. To friends. To sticking together during hard times. This hasn’t been an easy year for this family.” He looks pointedly at Brooks. “But we’re all here today to show our thanks for our many blessings. And to move forward, into a new season, with gratitude and grace for hard lessons and new beginnings. Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.”
“Happy Thanksgiving!” we echo, clinking our glasses.
I finish my glass.
Dad shakes his head and points at me. “You’re cut off.”
I chuckle.
He glances at Cohen. “She’s your problem tonight.”
He grins and winks at me.
Avery groans dramatically.
“That was a beautiful toast, Joe,” Mom admits.
“Well said,” Uncle Jim concurs.
Anna smiles at me. I smile back.
“Consider the air officially cleared,” I say, meaning it.
We got this. I got you.