Sienna
The Nash family's version of Thanksgiving is having an event of over two hundred people with assigned seating, of course. Lincoln and I were placed at the same table as Riley, Margo, and Carmen. Archer's name was listed at their table too, but he never showed up tonight. Despite Lincoln's constant reassurance, I can tell he's worried about him. He's deep in thought all throughout our catered dinner.
I've never tasted food as good as this. The turkey had a honey butter glaze that was to die for, and with the champagne constantly flowing, I certainly had too much. My head is spinning by the time our dessert sampler comes out. Pies upon pies, cookies, cupcakes... It all looks delicious, but if I continue to keep eating, the zipper of my dress will break. It's barely hanging on as it is.
The huge outdoor tent housing all of the tables is beautiful. With a see-through top overlooking all the stars and the heater keeping everyone warm, it's cozy and intimate and...I'm so glad Lincoln talked me into coming here tonight. Resting my head on his shoulder, he kisses my hair and wraps an arm around my lower back. "What's this for?" he asks.
"For bringing me," I admit. "Honestly, this goes down as one of the best Thanksgivings I've ever had."
He wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Seriously? This? If you think a room full of entitled jackasses is a good Thanksgiving, I can't imagine how awful your previous ones have been.'
"You have no idea," I mutter. And then, I go into detail about how lonely my holidays used to be growing up and how my friends would brag about building snowmen and making snow angels while I'd sit at home twiddling my thumbs. It was a miserable childhood I didn't even realize I had until they didn't believe me about being assaulted. It was like a wake-up call. My eyes had finally been opened to all of their faults.
Jett interrupts our conversation by sliding in to sit beside Carmen. "Hello again," he purrs. His blonde hair is gelled back into a tight bun, and his facial hair is trimmed to perfection around his face. It'd be a lie to say the man wasn't attractive, but his aura of arrogance takes away any ounce of handsomeness. He's awful.
"Can you go away?" Carmen asks through gritted teeth.
The DJ begins to play I'll Be Home for Christmas by Michael Buble, and couples make their way to the dancefloor. Carmen looks heartbroken as she twirls a napkin between her fingertips, and it isn't until now that I realize she's blinking away tears. I have never seen her cry, which makes blood boil hot beneath my skin. Nobody messes with my friends.
"Can't you see she's fucking heartbroken?" I snap and pull her closer to my side. "The last thing she wants to do is hop to another unsatisfying cock. Leave her alone, you psychotic fucking prick."
I'm waiting for his comeback, for whatever cocky remark he's got waiting on the tip of his tongue, but instead, he blinks down at Carmen, noticing the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Slowly, he rises to his feet and extends a hand out to her. "Come on," he says, jerking his head for the floor. "Let's dance."
Carmen narrows her eyes at his hand. "I promise no games. Just a dance," he reassures.
Lincoln is stiff beside me as he watches their interaction, and right now, I really wish Margo were here to come up with something to stop this. But she and Riley conveniently snuck away to the bathroom and haven't been back for over twenty minutes.
"Fine," she huffs, dabbing tears away with her napkin. "One dance." Placing her hand in his, he whisks her away for the floor just as Linc stands up and offers a hand out to me as well.
"We don't have to," I tell him. "I know you're not fond of dancing, so—"
"I want to. Plus, I refuse to let my brother prove himself to be a better gentleman. Come on."
Gratefully accepting his hand, he leads me to the middle of the floor and pulls me close, his hands moving to my lower back. We sway happily back and forth, my head falling down on his chest. Snow falls above the tent, and huge white flakes create a winter wonderland around us. Fairy lights twinkle from where they're strung on the roof of the tent, and I pull my head off his chest to gaze up at him with a smile.
He catches me staring, his eyes softening. "Care to share what's on your mind, beautiful?"
"I'm thinking that being with you, being here with your family, I feel like I'm home. And I know this is a huge event with people I've never met, but I learned at a young age that it's the people that make the home. Not the home itself. I guess I always felt like I never belonged in Los Angeles, but I think that had more to do with my living situation, and for the first time, I think I'm...grateful for what happened to me. Because without it, I never would be here dancing with you. I'm living out every dream I ever set for myself. I have everything I've ever wanted now, and I feel...complete."
Lincoln kisses the corner of my mouth, and as the song comes to an end, he holds me at arm's length. "What do you say we get out of here?"
My eyes widen. "I am not having sex with you in your mom's house!"
"Who said anything about sex, baby? Come on. Don't you trust me?"
I do, more than anything, but I don't want to leave Carmen alone. Even though the song has ended, Jett still holds Carmen in his arms, swaying side to side to an upbeat tune. She still looks sad, but Jett leans down to whisper something into her ear, and then she smiles.
"I'm worried about this," I groan and wave a finger between the two of them. It's a recipe for disaster.
"Trust me, I am too. I'll handle it at our next business meeting. Now come on, let's go." He leads the way out of the tent and back into the house where cocktail hour doesn't seem like it even existed anymore. The cleaning staff has already cleared everything out, all of them giving their nods and hellos as Lincoln weaves us in and out of the crew to head up the staircase.
Magnificent artwork is hung on the walls beside us, and some I recognize from a couple of art galas I attended a few years ago. All of the pieces cost well over fifty thousand dollars.
Lincoln stops at a dark oak door at the very end of the hallway and tugs it open. Inside, I find a room fit for a teenager. Dark blue walls, a four-poster bed, and band posters slung on the walls. Shelves lined with trophies are on one end of the room, and on the other are built-in bookcases filled with books.
"Your teenage bedroom?" I guess, taking another step inside.
He nods and heads over to the closet, shoving it open to search through clothes that are still inside like they haven't been touched in years while I pursue the photos framed on his desk. One of his mom and dad with their arms wrapped around him, a diploma proudly displayed in Lincoln's hands. My heart aches for the father he lost and for the hole in his chest that, no matter what I do, I will never be able to fill.
"You looked like a troublemaker," I say with a smile.
He chuckles. "Were you expecting anything less?"
"I guess not. It's just funny seeing pictures like this. If we met in high school, we never would have dated."
"You think?" He pops his head out of the closet carrying a bunch of clothing in his arm, plopping the heap down on the bed. "Why do you say that?"
"I was a nerd back then. I always had my nose in a book."
"And look how that turned out," he mused. "Trust me. I would have taken one look at those legs of yours, and that would have been all she wrote."
I roll my eyes. "Please. You probably went for the cheerleaders or the popular girls."
"I think you'd be surprised, then. Most of my time was spent in the library, and do you want to know why?" He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me flush against his chest. In seconds, my heart is beating out of my chest. "I learned that the studious ones were always the dirtiest."
"Oh my god." Smacking his chest jokingly, I huff out a laugh of disbelief. "Moment ruined. What are we doing up here, anyway?"
Tossing me a pair of athletic leggings and a sweatshirt of his, he gives me a wide grin. "Get dressed," he says. "We're about to build a snowman, baby."