“I will, but maybe you should slow down a little bit? You don’t usually drink this much.”
Obviously, I know Vonnie drinks. We’ve done it together multiple times. But I’ve never seen her come close to being drunk. Even at the games with unlimited free booze, kids running around, and the Mustangs making a fourth quarter comeback, she’s never had more than two drinks. Seeing her not only emotionally not herself, but under the influence on top of it, has me on edge AF. And call me selfish, but she’s the only person who knows about what’s going on with Glenn Chandler. Part of the reason she’s the one I confided in is because she never gets like this.
“I know I don’t.” She picks up her drink like she’s accepting the challenge I most definitely didn’t give. “But I’m also not usually alone on Thanksgiving and in the midst of marital ruin. Plus”—she points to TK and Poppy—“those two offered to host a sleepover tonight, so the boys will be with them while I crash in Brynn’s bed.”
“Ace is so excited, he has deemed this the ‘best Thanksgiving ever.’ And we love having the Lamar boys over.” Poppy has a bright smile on her face, but I can hear the worry in her voice. I’m not the only one who thinks this is way out of character for Vonnie.
Brynn clears her throat and waves her fork between Quinton and I. “So, I don’t mean to make a scene,” she says, no doubt about to cause a scene. “But does the hand-holding you two were doing as you walked down the stairs mean you’ve decided to admit you’re into each other? And by that, I mean do I get to gloat because I was right and totally called this relationship from the beginning?”
I know that Brynn is just trying to get the focus off Vonnie, but as a person who thrives behind the scenes, having everyone staring at me in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner is something ripped from my nightmares. Luckily for me, though, the guy I’m falling head over heels for does his best work in front of a crowd and takes over for us.
“It does.” He settles back into his seat and rests one arm across the back of my chair. He looks so comfortable sitting at a table with his coworkers and friends, talking about us. Confirming that there is an us. “But I don’t know about you getting to gloat, though.”
I don’t know whether to be embarrassed that all eyes have turned to me—even Poppy’s, which have only been on Vonnie or the plate that TK made her before we even said grace—or just give in to the giddy goodness that’s filling me up more than the food in front of me ever could.
“That’s fair,” Brynn says. “You don’t really know me too well, but I gloat. Like . . . a lot. And I did an entire whiteboard presentation trying to get her to acknowledge that you were into her, so I’m gonna go ahead and gloat.”
Maxwell just stares at Brynn with a soft smile on his face as she talks, like every word that comes out of her mouth is the most interesting thing in the entire world. His love for her is written all over his face. It’s disgustingly cute.
Quinton’s hand freezes, his fork full of mac and cheese suspended midbite. “A whiteboard presentation?”
“Oh! You’re Elliot?” TK asks. “I was wondering why your name was all over my board. Have you figured out the job thing yet? Or is Mahler still going to let you go?”
Because I have always been a huge Mustangs fan, TK was one of my favorite players. Not only was he a fantastic player, but he was so much fun to watch. He was one of those guys who actually looked like they loved what they did when they were on the field. Also, he’s so hot it hurts my eyes to look at him and his Thor-adjacent face. In order not to make a total fool out of myself, I avoided meeting him when the chances arose.
Something I’m deeply regretting at the moment.
“Ummm . . . you know, not really, but—you know.” I trip over my words. It’s like I can feel Quinton’s gaze burning a hole through my skin.
“No.” Quinton sets his fork on his plate. “I don’t know. Mahler is going to let you go?”
“It’s not a big deal. Just when he assigned me to working with you, he said if you didn’t stop protesting by playoffs, he’d have to let me go.” I force a smile on my face and try to ignore everyone around us who are now also trying to look anywhere but at us and our awkward exchange. TK is cringing so hard that I’m almost positive Poppy is pinching him underneath the table. “He hasn’t really mentioned it since, so I’m not even sure if he was serious or not.”
The thick veins in Quinton’s neck strain and I know he’s trying not to make a scene. His distaste for Mahler is something I try to avoid whenever possible. Well, I try to avoid all conflict, to be honest. Hence my terrible decision-making skills.
He lets out a deep breath and moves his arm from the back of my chair to the top of my leg. “Alright,” he says. “We can talk about it later if you want.”
I nod in agreement.
Next to me, Vonnie finishes off her drink. “See, that’s how a relationship works.” She sounds a little unhinged and I have a terrible feeling that she is going to explode before the night is over. She’s been holding it in for too long, it’s bound to come
