Rowan shrugs her shoulders. “No major plans, but I’m up for hanging out if you want to.”
“Sure,” I tell her, although I’m sure I’m setting myself up for some serious frustration. “And before I forget, we need to leave for my mom’s house around noon on Thursday. I think she wants to eat around 2:00 PM, if that’s okay with you?”
I hadn’t mentioned Thanksgiving to Rowan lately, and I assume she’s still on board with going, but since our friendship had been a little rocky the past few weeks, I’m greatly relieved to see her smiling.
“Sounds great. I’m going to make the pie early that morning but that’s plenty of time.”
“We won’t stay over there too late because I have to be back to work the following morning.”
“Not me. Nix gave me that Friday off.”
“I thought he was an asshole,” I tease.
She smirks. “He is, but he does have some nice moments.”
Rowan reaches across the table and sneaks one of my fries. “So you want to rent some movies tonight? Order a pizza?”
Swallowing a bite of my sandwich, I take a quick drink of my soda before replying. “Um... I actually have a date tonight.”
This is a bit awkward but no sense in hiding it.
Rowan glances down at her plate for a moment but when she looks back at me, there is a warm smile on her face. “So, when are you going to tell me all about your mad dating life? I mean... aren’t friends supposed to share that stuff?”
Her smile looks genuine but I think she may be putting on an act because her voice sounds a little shaky. Could it be that Rowan is having second thoughts? Because if she is... she needs to fucking tell me so we can get on with it.
“Hmmm... let’s see. Her name is Jennifer and she lives here in Brooklyn. She’s a few years older than I am and works in a bank. She’s like this really hardcore fitness nut though... I mean, really intense.”
Rowan snorts. “Don’t tell me she only drinks spinach shakes?”
I about spew the soda I’m taking a sip of because she’s pegged Jennifer. “Sort of. It’s actually a bit annoying when we go out to eat and she only nibbles on raw vegetables.”
“Oh, God... I was just joking. She really does that?”
I laugh and nod. “But she’s really nice and she’s gorgeous, and...” I search for other words to nicely describe Jennifer but nothing is coming to mind. “And she’s really successful... she’s a banker.” I throw that last part out because I don’t know what else to say and I feel slightly guilty for even telling Rowan something about Jennifer that annoys me.
Rowan’s smile slides off her face, and I have no clue what I’ve just said to make that happen, but she clues me in. “Wow... banker. You really landed yourself someone great.”
She’s trying to say it to give me a compliment on my new girlfriend, but she’s saying it as a backhanded slap to herself, because she isn’t an investment banker, which in turn doesn’t make her good enough.
I reach across the table to grab her hand and she instantly tries to pull it away. I hold on tight.
When she looks at me, there is moisture in her eyes and my fucking heart cracks. “I didn’t mean anything by that, Rowan. I was just struggling with what to say about her to you and that is the only thing that came to mind.”
Blinking her eyes rapidly, I watch as the tears dissipate and she gives me a smile. “It’s good. I know I’ll never be successful like that. I had my shot at that type of life and I fucked it up.”
“No,” I tell her harshly. “Don’t ever talk like that. You didn’t miss your shot.”
She’s quietly staring at me so I continue on. “And who’s to say what success is anyway? I look at you and your ability to take care of yourself in a very mean city, and you did it all on your own. How many people do you really think could do that without succumbing to things like crime or homelessness?”
Rowan blinks and then nods her head slightly. “You’re right. I hear you.”
“I’m serious about this, Rowan,” I tell her. “You are amazing.”
She smiles at me, and this time it has more light to it. “Thanks. You always know what to say to make me feel good about myself.
The thought that my words make Rowan smile causes happiness to bubble and well inside of me. It makes me realize that I used to feel this way a lot around her, but that I haven’t felt this way in a while.
I squeeze her hand and take a deep breath. “I feel like our friendship’s taken a bit of a hit lately.”
She sighs and squeezes back. The look on her face is one of deep affection and her smile is as warm as a desert breeze. “Yeah... I feel that way, too.”
“Let’s rectify that, okay?”
“Absolutely,” she says, her smile flashing with joy.
21
We’ve completed Phase One of The Caldwell Thanksgiving Day Extravaganza. The food has been eaten and the top buttons on our pants have been undone. Flynn and Nora are in the kitchen, cleaning or miraculously eating another piece of pie, but everyone else has been shooed out to the living room.
Nix and Emily are on one end of the loveseat, with her on his lap, both of them sound asleep. Nix’s dad, Hank, is on the other end with his head tilted back. It took that group only three seconds to fall asleep. Nick is stretched out in his recliner and, every time I glance at him, he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.
Tim ate with us as his wife has Sam for this holiday, and he’s passed out on the floor with Capone snoring softly beside him.
That leaves just Fil and me. We are sitting on the couch and she’s trying to teach me about football.
I absolutely adore Fil. Since meeting her earlier this month when we went clubbing, she and I have developed a good friendship. We’ve gone out together a few times, which ironically seem to coincide with the nights that Flynn has gone out on his dates, and we text each other all the time. She has a hilariously filthy mind and loves to text me shocking photos, usually of naked men. She tells me I’m in a dating slump and wants me to get out there and steam up the sheets with someone, and she figures the photos will get me in the mood.
The other day, my phone buzzed with a text and I saw it was from Fil. It had an attachment that said, Hawt guy in kilt with huge pole!
I immediately scrambled to open the picture, because she has sent me some really hot men before. When the jpeg opened up on my screen, I started laughing. It was a man... in a kilt, and yes, he was hot. But the pole? Yeah... not what I was expecting. He was literally carrying a huge, wooden telephone pole in his beefy arms. It looked like one of those Highland games or something.
“Okay, now pay attention, Rowan, because I’m going to give you a complete run down of all the rules today as we watch this game.”
Fil leans forward on the couch and gazes seriously at the TV. The Raiders and the Cowboys are playing and although I’ve heard of the Dallas Cowboys—I mean, who hasn’t—I have no clue who the Raiders are. Sorry, but hockey is my game.
Fil gives me a rundown of the National Football League and how it’s broken into two conferences with four divisions in each. I look longingly over at Nick Caldwell, who has succumbed to a nap.
“Now, this is important,” Fil says with flourish. “Our team... the Giants... are in the NFC east, same as Dallas. Which means we hate Dallas and so we’re pulling for the Raiders today.”
“Wait... why am I a Giants fan?”
“Because you’re a New Yorker, that’s who you root for.”
“But maybe I’m a Jets fan. That’s who Flynn roots for and besides, he got Capone a Jets collar.”