Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(64)

“I do my best,” Connor said, his gaze flicking to me and back.

It’s a group effort.

“This is Paul Winfield,” Ma said. “He treats me like gold, in case you were curious.”

“I do my best,” Paul said with a wink. “A pleasure, Autumn.”

“Where are Kim and Felicia?” I asked.

Ma crossed herself. “Don’t get me started on those two. Suddenly, we had other engagements. Suddenly, our social calendars are full and we can’t be bothered to tell our own mother.” She turned to Mrs. Drake who joined us in the foyer. “I’m so sorry, Victoria. Those girls do their own thing. Come and go. I have no say. I don’t know where they are from one minute to the next. It’s a travesty.”

“They’re grown women, free to make their own decisions,” Victoria said placidly. “I’m glad you’re here though.” She and my mother kissed cheeks. “And you must be Paul.”

Paul offered his hand. “Thank—”

“Don’t be shy, now,” Ma said. “Paul Winfield, this is Victoria Drake. She and Alan are like a second set of parents to my Wes. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them when he was a wild boy on the streets, getting into fights every other minute.”

I looked upward, as if patience could rain down on me from the ceiling.

“Wes has been the best friend Connor could hope for,” Mrs. Drake said. “We’re so happy to have you both as part of this family.”

“Here I go,” Ma said, wiping her eyes with a hanky Paul had at the ready. “All of five minutes and I’m already crying with gratitude. Paul, didn’t I tell you she was a gem?”

“I believe dinner is almost ready,” Mrs. Drake said, just as one of the cooks appeared in the hall and motioned to her. “I stand corrected. Dinner is ready.”

We gathered around the Drakes’ immense table in the formal dining room where the two place settings for Felicia and Kimberly were surreptitiously ghosted away. Mr. and Mrs. Drake sat at the heads of the table. Autumn and Connor on one side, with my mother and Paul. Jefferson, Cassandra and me, sat on the other. Mrs. Drake had us all hold hands while Mr. Drake offered up the Thanksgiving blessing.

“That was lovely, dear,” Mrs. Drake said when he finished. “Now please, everyone, enjoy.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ma said.

My stomach clenched.

“I think we all should go around the table and say something we’re thankful for. Okay, I’ll go first. No, no, I changed my mind. I want to go last. Mine’s a big one. Wes, baby, why don’t you go first?”

I inhaled and let out a slow breath, careful to keep my eyes away from Connor who was going to do his best to make me crack. My gaze landed on Autumn.

I’m thankful for that smile of hers,

Even when it’s not meant for me.

I coughed. “I’m grateful that we’re all here together, and thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Drake for having us.”

Eloquence, thy name is Wes Turner.

Ma sniffed. “You can’t do better than that? All those beautiful words you wr—”

“Hey, Connor, how about you go next?” I said. Loudly.

“Yes, yeah, sure,” Connor said, shifting in his chair. He turned to Autumn and took her hand.

“I’m grateful for being with family, and that this amazing woman is by my side. Thank you for being here with me.”

He leaned and kissed her softly.

“I’m thankful to be here with you too. And all of you.” Autumn’s gaze swept up the rest of us before finding him again. “I’m thankful you didn’t give up when I kept saying I was too busy or too heartbroken. I’m grateful for your sense of humor when I need to laugh, and for your poetry that makes me cry.”

“Poetry?” Ma said. “Since when do you write poetry, Connor baby?”

My hands tightened into fists under the table.

“It’s just something I do on the side,” Connor said.

Mr. and Mrs. Drake shared a look I couldn’t read.

“That’s what a liberal arts college will do to a man,” Jefferson said with a wink. “Do you still play baseball or is it too rough a sport for you now?”

“Connor happens to write beautiful poetry,” Autumn said, her voice hard, her back straight. “I think a lot of issues in this country would be solved if men felt free enough to express themselves, instead of being forced to suppress their emotions under the guise of masculine prowess or strength.”

“Here, here,” Paul said, raising his wine glass.

Autumn touched Connor’s cheeks with the backs of her fingers. “Don’t ever stop writing me poems.”

“I won’t,” he said, and coughed, his gaze darting everywhere but at me.

Ma blew out her cheeks. “Will wonders never cease?” she said with a shrug. She leaned over the table toward Jefferson. “What are you thankful for, honey, besides your gorgeous fiancée?”

Jefferson’s frown vanished. “I’m proud and grateful this wonderful woman has agreed to be my wife. And I’m also truly grateful to Mom and Dad for releasing my trust at the end of this year, so that she and I can start our life together. I look forward to being a part of your business, Dad. Not only to carry on the family name, but ensure it endures for generations to come.”