Page 87 of Keepsakes and Kismet

“Boooorrrinng,” Carter calls from across the table. “Why don’t you mix it up for once?”

“If we’re mixing it up, here’s what I’m not grateful for this year. Number one. Carter.”

“Who’s next?” Mrs. Galvin asks, trying to maintain some semblance of decorum.

“I’ll go,” Callum offers, and I watch nearly every Galvin jaw drop. I’m pretty sure Caitlyn gasps, and Clementine mutters something to Clover. Even Lila and Logan look surprised. I guess Callum doesn’t usually volunteer, which doesn’t shock me.

Mr. Galvin claps. “Wonderful, Cal Pal! Go ahead.”

He clears his throat. “I’m grateful for Peyton.”

Holy shit, my boyfriend is so awkward. And I’m obsessed with him. A slow smile spreads across my face, and almost immediately, I notice a lot of little things happen at once.

Caitlyn says, “Oh my God.”

Clementine whispers, “Pay up,” to Christopher, and he starts digging in his pocket.

Clover slowly raises her phone, snapping a picture of us.

Jackson, Clover’s boyfriend, yawns and spins his baseball cap around.

“Well, what about Peyton, dear?” Mrs. Galvin asks.

Callum, who I think is starting to realize the repercussions of being so forward with his gratitude selection, flushes scarlet. Poor guy obviously wasn’t expecting any follow-up questions.

“Just… everything about her,” he mumbles.

Mrs. Galvin looks on approvingly. “That’s very sweet, Cal.”

“Suck-up.” Carter coughs the insult into his hand.

“You really like me, huh?” I whisper.

He presses a soft kiss behind my ear. “Yes.”

I shiver, and it’s like I can feel each and every goosebump that pops up on my arms. I grasp his hand and squeeze it.

The rest of the Galvins finish their gratitude in record time, eagerly awaiting the food. Mr. and Mrs. Galvin are thankful for “everyone at the table this year,” Carter’s thankful for his gym, Clover’s thankful for her followers, Clementine’s thankful for early college acceptance letters, Christopher’s thankful for the fancy gig he’s playing next week, and Jackson’s grateful for his “sick ass sneakers.”

I, of course, am grateful for Callum. Can’t leave my boyfriend hanging like that.

After stuffing myself with temperature-zoned turkey, Mrs. Galvin sets her fork down. “Well, I think it’s time for pie!”

“On it, Ma,” Callum replies, setting his napkin on the table.

Before he stands up, I whisper suggestively, “You go do your duty and bring in those external pies, Callum Galvin. You bring them in real good.”

He glares at me. “Stop, I can’t get turned on right now. I’m wearing hard pants.”

I wink at him and watch as he leaves the room to get the pies. When I swivel my head around, his entire family is smiling at me—even Clover—like I’m holding a giant check worth one million dollars.

The happy silence is interrupted only by my phone alarm going off.

“Oops,” I say sheepishly. “Sorry for the interruption. Meds time.” I reach into my purse and retrieve my travel pill case, popping out today’s nighttime dose and reaching for my glass of water to wash them down, trying to ignore the ten sets of eyes watching my every move.

“Are you feeling okay?” Mrs. Galvin asks kindly.

“That’s sweet of you to ask, but I’m totally fine.” I give my case a little shake. “It’s my daily anti-seizure pills. Nothing to worry about, I just have to take them on time and all. No big deal.”