Page 117 of Deck the Hauls

I glanced at Emily, whose eyes were wide.

I’d warned her my parents’ cooking wasn’t as good as hers, but I hadn’t anticipated this. The artificial citrus smell was stronger than ever. Had they tried some sort of new lime Christmas glaze? Whatever it was, it did not look festive—or edible, for that matter. Oh god. I didn’t want Christmas to end with food poisoning.

Dad stared at the turkey.

“Sweetheart, why is the turkey green?” Mom asked.

Dad leaned close to it and sniffed.

“Shit,” he said.

He looked around the kitchen, his gaze stopping at two bottles next to the fridge.

One contained oil. The other...dishwashing liquid. Both were in green squeeze bottles which, while not identical, were surprisingly similar.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. I think I basted the turkey in dish soap.” Dad held onto the edge of the counter as if he needed support.

“Maybe we could just cut the skin off?” Mom suggested.

Jake shook his head. “It might have soaked in. I don’t think we should eat that.” His eyes darted to Kelsey’s belly.

Mom raised her hands. “Well, Christmas is ruined.” She turned to me, eyes glistening. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s fine, Mom. We’ll have plenty of other food.”

“And my parents gave me a whole heap of leftovers from our Christmas Eve dinner last night,” Emily said, “as well as some of the Christmas dinner they’d made in advance. It’s all in the van. Why don’t I go get them?”

“Oh yes!” I grinned. “Emily’s parents are amazing cooks. They own a restaurant in Brooklyn. I’ll come help.”

“Are you sure?” Mom asked.

“Definitely. Knowing my mom, she probably packed enough to feed a family of eight for a week. It will actually be a relief to know it’s not going to go to waste,” Emily said, pulling keys out of her pocket.

We walked down the hall together in silence and stepped out into the cold air.

“How are you doing so far?” Emily asked, reaching out for my hand as the front door slammed behind us.

“Surprisingly well.” I smiled at her. “It’s definitely a bit odd, seeing Jake and Kelsey together. But it’s a lot less upsetting than I’d expected. When Kelsey pulled me aside, she apologized and offered to leave if it would make me feel more comfortable, which I appreciated.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.”

“And there’ve been lots of reminders of Bowie, but mainly good ones. Dad once dropped the turkey while pulling it out of the oven to check if it was cooked and Bowie pounced on it. Dad managed to wrestle it off him before he took a bite and then washed the turkey and put it back in the oven. That washed off all the seasoning and turned the skin soggy.” I grimaced. “Needless to say, it wasn’t particularly appetizing when it was done, and I fed most of my serving to Bowie under the table.”

The memory of Bowie’s soft, smooth tongue licking my fingers sent an ache to my heart. But it was a softer ache. My boy had had a good life and been loved to the very end.

“Oh my god! That sounds terrible.” Emily laughed. “I wish I could have met Bowie.”

“I could show you a few photos after dinner. And Dad loves telling stories about him too.”

“I’d love to see some photos,” Emily said, squeezing my hand.

We reached the van. I stopped and tugged at Emily’s hand, drawing her closer to me. “Having you here with me means so much. Thank you for coming. I know you’re missing out on time with your family and dish-soap-free turkey, so I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Emily said, gazing at me. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

I leaned in and kissed her, closing my eyes as her soft, warm lips pressed against mine. Her mouth parted, and I deepened the kiss, wrapping my arms around her waist and walking her a few steps back so she was up against the van, in between a Christmas wreath and a gold star.

“Can we skip dinner and just make out instead?” I murmured.