Begin Again (Again #1)(43)

“I’ve always wanted a really traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Homemade turkey and pies, lots of side dishes and a huge table that you decorate and set together. And then this kitschy ritual where you mention all the things you’re thankful for.”

Kaden frowned. “What does your family eat, then?”

“We have caterers who deliver the meal. Snacks to tide us over until the gala starts,” I explained. “Plenty of wine, of course. Wine helps my dad get lots of contracting partners to relax. It makes it easier to get deals done. And at the gala itself there’s a three-course menu, usually soup, then lamb or some other meat and … ” Kaden’s look of bewilderment was growing. I paused. “What?”

“Are you saying you’ve never been to a traditional Thanksgiving dinner?”

I shook my head.

Kaden winced. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Before I could say a word, he’d picked up his cell phone. He held the receiver to his ear, and a few seconds later his face brightened.

“Hey, Mom. No, everything’s okay. Yes, it went well,” he said with a grin, raising his cap only to set it down on his head again. “Listen, the reason I’m calling … I know we already have a full house with Chad’s kids at Thanksgiving.” He frowned and waved his hand, although his mother couldn’t see him. “No! I’m not backing out! I wanted to ask if it would be okay if I brought a friend with me.”

Now I was on my feet, wanting to tear the phone from Kaden’s hand. He turned away from me.

“I knew you’d say that. Thanks, Mom. See you Tuesday.”

He hung up. “She said the more the merrier.” He flashed his lopsided grin.

“Are you nuts?” I cried, angry. “How is that going to come across?”

His smile faded. “What do you mean, how will it come across?”

“You’re taking me to your mom’s not only on a holiday, but exactly on that day when she’s meeting the children of her new boyfriend?” My voice had grown shrill.

Kaden’s eyebrows shot up. “Who cares?”

“It’s … it’s … ” I was at a loss for words. I looked at Kaden pleadingly.

“Bubbles,” murmured Kaden, taking me by the shoulders and forcing me to face him. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

I held my breath and returned his gaze.

“Something like that,” I said.

“You see?” he said. His voice sounded gruff. “You’ll get your kitschy Thanksgiving with all the trimmings, and my mom and I won’t be outnumbered at the table. So everyone gets what they want.”

Finally I nodded.

“Okay.”





Chapter 16


“No way.” Kaden shook his head. His cap slipped a bit. “That is not going in my car.”

“Come on.” I gave him a hopeful glance, to which he raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

“We had an agreement, Kaden.”

He buckled his seatbelt and squinted at me. I leaned in a bit and tried an irresistible smile. I would obviously have to employ all my charms.

“I’ve always appreciated your good taste in music,” he grumbled and held out his hand.

I whooped and handed him my stack of Taylor Swift CDs. Kaden rolled his eyes and took them from me so I could climb into the Jeep.

Soon I would meet Kaden’s mother. I wanted music that would lift my mood. No depressing alternative-rock; just tunes I could sing along with, to distract from my nervous anxiety. Taylor Swift was perfect.

The first notes of “Fearless” came on and I hummed along. As for Kaden, he made an exaggerated scowl, as if the music was pure torture.

“I don’t know why I’m putting up with that shit,” he grumbled, glancing in his side mirror before turning on to Main Street.

“I know why,” I retorted, drumming my fingers on the inside of the car door as we left our apartment building behind us.

He’d agreed to bear with my music, and in return I was sitting in his car.

When Kaden and I had returned from our hike five days ago, I was almost freaked out with excitement. It’s true that Kaden had always insisted it was no big deal and his mother would be delighted to meet me—he wasn’t able to calm me down that way. Instead, my brain switched from the “depressed” mode to the “about to panic” mode, and I started looking through my entire closet for outfits that would be presentable for a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Eventually my room looked like a battlefield, and instead of helping me, Kaden—finding me buried in clothes and with rattled nerves—just laughed. Which made me burst into tears and say that under no circumstances would I go with him to visit his mother.

Kaden grumbled at my dismay, but then offered me a deal: First, I could choose the soundtrack for the ride.

Second, he would help me pack.

The latter task was as fun as it sounded. Because Kaden was much better organized than me. Within an hour we’d packed not only my bag, but his as well.

And now here we were on the highway on the way to Portland. From the corner of my eye, I noticed how Kaden was moving his fingers to the beat, too. I could hardly suppress a giggle. For an instant he looked at me, frowning, before turning his eyes back to the road.