Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He pulls back.
“Sorry,” he says with a smirk. “Had to get you to calm down somehow.”
“Why do I have a feeling you’re not really sorry?”
He shrugs. “Maybe we’ve just been around each other long enough that you know better. Now everything’s going to be totally fine as long as you make sure I don’t burn the condo down, okay?”
I finally smile.
“Yeah. You’re right. Let’s just go ahead and stuff the turkey so we can throw it in after we drop off the sweets at the food drive.”
“I’m good at stuffing things,” Cody assures me.
“And we’re even better when we stuff things together.”
He chuckles.
We get to work on the turkey, and when the cookies are done, I pull them out of the oven and set them on the counter to cool. The food drive is only ten minutes from the condo, so it won’t take much time to get back here and put everything on.
When the cookies are ready, I put them in a container. We grab the stuff we baked last night, load it into my car, and head to the drive. When we arrive at the high school where it’s held, I see a long line of families coming out of the main entrance, wrapping around the bus lane, all the way to the street.
“Holy fuck,” Cody says. “This must be like two hundred people.”
“It’s usually busy,” I say, “but they must be shorthanded this year or something. Shit.”
Guilt wells within me as I turn the corner to the main parking garage.
“I know I said we’d just drive by,” I say, “but…do you mind if—”
“I’d love to help out.”
“Really? It’s just that I hate seeing all those people waiting, and I know those volunteers are doing everything in their power to get through the line, and it makes me sad thinking I could be doing something to help.”
“I totally agree. I was thinking the same thing. I can send a group message out and see if one of the guys will get the turkey in the oven for us. That’s the only thing that needed to be done soonish, right?”
“Yeah. I got a lot of stuff ready last night, so some of it just has to be reheated, but we’ll be good with all the stuff we have to make after that.”
“Cool. I’ll send the group message.”
“I know the project coordinator, so we’ll take this stuff in, and I’ll ask her if she wants to put us to work.”
“It’s a plan.”
It means a lot to me that he’s willing to do this. Not that I think he would be some dick who wouldn’t want to. I’m just used to Lance, who was never willing to help anyone out other than himself. If I’d suggested this, he would’ve laughed at me.
The more I think about Lance outside of our relationship, the less I like him, and the more I wonder what I ever saw in him.
Derek volunteers to put the turkey in, and after I pass off the baked goods to a volunteer, I talk to the project manager, who puts us at stations together in the school gymnasium.
I’m at a table covered with bowls of baked beans, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, and numerous casserole dishes that leave me having to check the labels on the bowls to remind myself which is which. Beside me, Cody distributes meat from the plates on the table in front of him.
We serve guests, and when there’s a gap in the line that gives us a break, Cody slides up beside me and whispers, “Giving people my meat. I guess it’s appropriate.”
“Have you tried my cream of corn?” I ask, pointing to the pot in front of me.
He laughs. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind having some later, too.”
I push against his arm while I laugh. He returns to his station and continues serving people, making conversation. I’m friendly, but he chats with them in such an easy-going way. Relaxed. Cracking jokes that make them burst into laughter.
A man in a black hoodie and jeans approaches Cody’s table. A young girl clings to his leg. She can’t be more than seven. Her dark hair in a ponytail, she presses her face to the man’s leg.
Cody bends across the table and says, “Happy Thanksgiving to you, beautiful. How are you doing?”
“Sorry. My daughter’s kind of shy,” the man says as she turns away from Cody.
“It’s okay to be shy,” Cody tells her.
She turns to him, clearly drawn to his magnanimous personality, which is so fucking hard not to get sucked into.
She stares at him for a moment, hardly blinking.
“My name’s Cody. What’s yours?”
“Amy,” she mutters.
“It’s nice meeting you, Amy. So, what do you think you’ll have today? Turkey? Pork? Pulled chicken? Just tell me what to get you, and I’ll make it happen.”
She glances between all the platters.