Tis the Season for Revenge: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

“Okay, so it was chaotic yesterday, but that’s nothing compared to what you’ll see today,” I say as we drive the few blocks over to Hannah and Hunter’s on Thanksgiving morning.

“You don’t have to warn me, rubia. I understand how family works,” he says with a laugh.

“This is family on crack,” I say, gnawing on my lip. “I don’t have much family, but Hunter does. And with Hannah comes Sadie, who is a blast and basically a big sister, but more chaotic than I am.” He raises an eyebrow in an “is that possible?” way, and I smack him with my clutch. “Shut up!” He laughs, and it’s deep, and I love this.

This comfort.

This fun.

“Who else, rubia?”

“Okay, so Mags will be there because she loves Hunter and basically raised Hannah and me. And because Mags will be there, Luna’s family will be there.”

“Luna?”

“Runs the bar downtown, Mags’s niece. So Luna comes with her parents, who are insane, and two brothers, Zander and Ace. Ace is in a band, Hometown Heroes.”

“I’ve heard of them. I like them.”

“Yup. Okay, so Luna is engaged to Tony, who she’s been in love with since she was like, five because he’s Zander’s best friend.”

“This town is very . . . intertwined.” Damien’s eyes drift to me as I untangle the guest list for him, and a smile plays on his lips.

“Oh, it’s absolutely incestuous. A few years back, we found out that Hunter and Autumn have a half-sister, Jordan. She came into town and got tangled with Tanner, who owns the construction site in town and is also Hunter’s bestie. So they’ll be here, too.”

“And Tanner will bring . . . ?” He’s catching on.

“I’m not sure. Probably his parents. He has an older brother who moved away and started a tattoo shop down the shore, but he never comes home to the Hills. I don’t know why he never comes back, but he left the family business behind when he did. It was a whole thing.”

“You don’t know why?”

“I don’t know everything, Damien,” I say with a laugh as he parks outside Hannah’s. There are already five cars parked out front.

“You sure about that?” he asks with a smile.

“I’m a little sister. I hear the drama, I absorb the drama, and I store the drama until I need to use it to my advantage,” I say, and he laughs.

“Ahh, I got it. Well, I’m excited for your chaos.” I roll my eyes.

“It’s time,” I say, tipping my head to the front door where two little girls are standing in matching pajamas, the oldest holding Colin on her hip in his own set of complimentary jammies.

Instead of getting out of the car, Damien puts a hand up, smoothing it over my exposed collarbone in the off the shoulder sweater I’m wearing and slowly moving it up to my neck.

He stays there, resting, and I smile at him.

“You like doing that, don’t you?”

“Hmm?” he asks, staring at me like he’s not listening.

“My neck. You hold it a lot, even when we’re not . . . you know,” I say and goddamn if I don’t blush. He smiles that wiseass, cocky man smile that makes me wish I knew him when he was younger and possibly cockier before answering.

“Yeah, I like that,” he says. “Your heartbeat is there. Like the feel of it on my palm. I’ve never met anyone so alive, Abigail,” he says.

The meal is as chaotic as one could possibly assume. Mr. Davidson got into a near brawl with Tanner’s dad, resulting in all men being kicked out of the house by Maggie to “go bond over fire building or something.”

It worked out, because then when the big kids got a little too restless waiting for dinner, Hannah sent them outside with s’mores essentials and sticks, because they had actually gotten a bonfire going.

Then we all sat down for the big meal, three long tables filling the giant dining room and a kids’ table dominating the living room where Autumn put on Frozen. (To which Cal demanded that next time they get to “watch a ‘boy’ movie or football or something good.” Rosie told him to shut up, which, to everyone’s surprise, he did, settling to eat stuffing and glare at the TV.)

Once we all sat, Maggie did her tradition of not letting anyone eat before we went around the table with something we’re thankful for.

“Jesus Christ, Mags, not this shit again,” Mr. Davidson had complained his yearly outrage at Mags’s tradition.

“Shut it. It’s sweet.”

“I’m hungry!”

“You can wait five stinking minutes,” Luna’s mother said, and my eyes met Sadie’s across the table, her own comically wide with humor.

It felt . . . normal.

Like family.

Dysfunctional family, but family nonetheless.

“I’ll go first,” Damien had said, and my entire body went into shock. Sadie’s eyes went a different kind of wide, intrigued wide, but my head was already turning to my date. “Seems appropriate, to give thanks first, being that I was graciously invited.”

“You better come back next year, too. Nice to have new eye candy around here,” Maggie said, and we all groaned.

“God, Mags!” Hannah huffed.

“I’m just glad she’s not focused on me,” Hunter said under his breath, and I scoffed a laugh, because he wasn’t wrong—Maggie loves to hit on my brother-in-law, trying to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

“Let the man speak so we can get this shit over with!” Mr. Davidson said, and his wife smacked him. I think he complained about the hit, and Mrs. Davidson definitely made fun of him for being “a big old baby,” but I was too lost in Damien.

“I just wanted to say thank you all for opening your arms to let in a stranger. You’re a great crowd. Abigail’s been telling me stories about home for weeks, and it’s nice to put faces to names. This year, I’m thankful to be sitting here with you all, about to eat some amazing food. But most of all, I’m honored to have a beautiful woman on my arm.” His arm moved to pull me into him despite us being seated in shitty folding chairs, and he kissed my hair.

It was precious.

And sweet.

And so unexpected.

And when my eyes met my sister’s, the half smile she had on her lips said it all.

You are in so fucking deep.

Hours later, I’m sitting outside near the impressive fire in Hannah’s backyard—turns out not-quite Boy Scouts Tony and Zander were the ones to finally make the fire happen—way too full and chatting with Kate.

She’s telling me how Dean and Zee helped take the Springbrook Hills Bulldogs to state this year and how she and Dean are working through the process of having Dean formally adopt her son, Cal.

It’s as we’re watching Dean try to fit a football into Colin’s toddler fingers, Cal clapping as he “throws it,” when Damien comes over, putting a hand out to me and helping me stand.

“Hate to do this, but this one’s gotta get home,” he says, looking at Kate then at me. “Come on, naranja. Let’s get you back to Long Island.” The words are low, muffled almost as he presses his lips, touching the top of my head. “You have an early morning.”

With his words, Kate’s eyes narrow, confusion mixed with . . . happiness, maybe, and I clarify.

“Black Friday,” I say with a shrug. “I have to be at the store at like 4 am and it’s an hour’s drive back to the city.” I tip my head back up to Damien. “Plus, you have to get back to your place, yeah?” I ask.

“I’m staying at yours tonight,” he says, his voice low and only for me as his lips press to my temple.

“We should get going too,” Kate says, standing and making her way over to her boys. “You’ll be home for Christmas?” she asks me.

“That’s the plan.”

“And you?” nosy fucking Kate asks Damien with a cocky smile. Bartenders and baristas and their need to direct human relationships. I glare at her, but she just smiles.

“That’s the plan,” Damien says, and I’m so surprised I can’t do much more than kiss and hug Kate before we make our rounds of goodbyes. But the entire time, my mind is on Damien’s assertion that he’ll be here on Christmas.

But that would be after the party.

After things fall apart.

This is getting so confusing.

Because for something we both agreed would be casual, it’s feeling less and less so by the minute.

And even though I’m not even a little mad about it, I can’t help but feel the impending dread building all around me with each day.