But when they finally got themselves together and solidified their relationship, something came over them. It was as if they had been rolling around out of control and then clicked into place beside each other. They are secure and settled, more themselves when they’re together than they ever were when they were apart.
They still squabble constantly. They bicker and poke at each other. But that’s just part of them. It would seem fake if that stopped being a part of their relationship.
“We weren’t planning on telling you,” Bellamy starts.
“Telling me what?” I frown. “Did you suddenly decide you’re too good for my pumpkin pie?”
“No.”
“Or you’ve waited until now to tell me you don’t want my turkey?”
“Oh my God, no,” Bellamy says with a laugh. “It’s just that it’s Thanksgiving and we don’t want to be those people. We don’t want to seem as if we’re trying to steal your thunder or make a big deal out of anything.”
“What is going on?” I raise an eyebrow.
They glance at each other again, then back to me.
“We’re having a baby,” Eric says.
For a second, I can’t tell if I’m reacting or just standing here. My mind is reacting, but I feel as if I haven’t moved. Then I realize I have Bellamy in my arms and we’re both laughing and crying, hugging each other tightly and jumping up and down.
“This is incredible!” I say. “Congratulations.”
She steps back and looks at me, reaching out to brush a tear from her cheek.
“We don’t have to say anything,” she says. “I don’t want you to think we’re trying to take over your holiday or get all the attention.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say. “This absolutely trumps getting the biggest turkey in the grocery store or making my own pies.”
“Pies, as in multiple?” Eric pipes up. “What kind?”
Bellamy shakes her head and give him a playful smack in the stomach.
“Apparently not to him,” she says.
“Pregnancy cravings,” he grins wryly. “I’m very sympathetic.”
“So sympathetic in fact he’s having way more symptoms than I am,” she rolls her eyes.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “How far along are you? Why didn’t you call me? I have so many questions.”
“So do I,” Xavier’s voice says behind me.
I turn around and see his head poked into the doorway.
“Hi, Xavier,” I say.
“Banana room, or midnight in the garden of good and evil?”
Of the other two bedrooms in the upstairs, one is painted a pale yellow, and the other became home to my grandmother’s angel collection when I found them in the storage unit.
“It’s up to you and Dean.”
He thinks for a second. “I like the banana. But I’ll ask Dean.” He steps back into the hallway, then puts his head in again. “Congratulations on the baby.”
Bellamy’s mouth falls open as he walks away.
“Was he standing there when I was talking?” I ask.
Eric shakes his head. “No.”
“How does he know? I’m not showing yet,” Bellamy says. “Do I look fat?”
“No. But this is Xavier we’re talking about,” I shrug. “For all we know, he can hear the baby thinking.”
“We don’t have to make a big announcement or anything,” Bellamy says. “I don’t want to stand up at the Thanksgiving table and do a toast with a champagne flute of cranberry juice. As I said, we weren’t even planning to say anything while we were here. But now that I see you, we couldn’t not say anything.”
“Of course not,” I tell her. ”I would have been so upset if I found out you didn’t tell me while you were here.”
“You can move them into a drawer,” I hear Xavier say.
“Oh, no,” I say.
The door cracks open again, and Xavier’s face appears in the doorway. “Dean says Sam’s workout equipment is sleeping in his room.”
“I’m suddenly remembering what having big family holidays is all about,” I remark under my breath to Bellamy. “I’m coming!” Xavier nods, and I look back at Bellamy and Eric. “I’m really happy for both of you. If we don’t all survive this holiday season, consider naming the baby after the fallen one.”
I walk out into the hallway and find Dean standing at the door to the bedroom full of angel statues. He’s staring into it like he can’t step through the doorway.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Should have remembered that we relocated Sam’s gym equipment. We can move the angels. They were our grandmother’s. I don’t think I told you that when you were here last.”
Dean looks over at me. “They were?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “They were all over the house for a little while. Then she moved them to mainly her room and her sewing room. I think she didn’t want them to make my father sad.” I let out a slow breath as I lean into the room and look at all the little statues. “I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them, so I put them in here. They are a little creepy, though. I think she might have purposely found the scariest ones she could.”
“They deserve a home, too,” Xavier says.
“Yes, they do,” I say. “But the bottom drawer or the shelf in the closet can be their home while you’re here if you want.”
“You can put a sleeping bag in my room,” Xavier offers.
“I didn’t bring a sleeping bag,” Dean says.
“I did.”
I nod and point at Xavier. “Always prepared. Anyway, you can decide later. Just drop your stuff and come on down. We’ll make some lunch if you guys are hungry.”
Later, as we’re sitting around the kitchen table eating a spread of sandwiches and cold salads to gear us up for the heavy meal in two days, Sam looks at Xavier.
“What’s your stance on lights on the tree?”
“Strung or illuminated?”
“Both.”
“Stringing is acceptable before Thanksgiving for time-saving purposes. No illumination until the grand one,
