Page 79 of Robbin’ the Rich

And neither side seemed likely to move.

The realization settled heavily between us. It was the same disagreement we'd been circling for weeks. Eventually Dad glanced at Mom. Apparently deciding a tactical retreat was in order.

"Speaking of things that are less likely to cause a family argument..."

I narrowed my eyes immediately. "What now?"

Mom brightened. "Thanksgiving. I’ve decided I'm not cooking."

I blinked. Then blinked again. "What?"

Dad looked delighted. "She finally admitted defeat."

"I did no such thing, but with Aunt Marie going to Illinois to spend it with her kids, and Grandma spending it in Florida, it was just going to be us. So I thought instead of cooking, we could go out for dinner."

I took a moment letting that sink in. We’d done the same thing for Thanksgiving since I was a kid.

"This year we're going out?"

I stared. My mother loved hosting Thanksgiving. The woman treated holiday meals like a competitive sport.

"I thought it might be nice. It’s so much work, and if it’s just us, I thought maybe I could relax a bit.”

"Good for you," I said. " That sounds good to me."

Some of the tension left her shoulders.

"Next Thursday. Same time?" I asked.

Dad nodded. "We made reservations already."

The idea of my mother voluntarily allowing someone else to cook Thanksgiving dinner was so shocking that I almost forgot about Ascension entirely.

Then my phone buzzed beside my plate. The screen lit up. Micah. A smile appeared before I could stop it.

Micah: Busy later?

I typed back quickly.

Robin: Nope. What's up?

I could feel the gaze of my parents. I glanced up to find identical expressions on both their faces.

"Who is that?" Mom asked.

She was trying to remain casual, but I knew her look.

"No one."

Dad snorted. Mom looked delighted.

"Robin."

"It's a person," I said as I took my phone off the table.

"Oh, it's definitely a person," Dad said with a wag of his eyebrows.

I could feel my face warming.