Dominic
Four months later
Presley, Francine, and I are in the kitchen, taking turns cooking and diverting the twins away from the myriad hot and pointy objects in play, when the doorbell rings.
“Go ahead. I’ve got things under control here,” Francine says.
I glance up from tending my potful of bubbling potatoes. “You sure?”
“Of course—you’re the hosts. Now shoo, dearies.” She flicks her hand at us with a smile.
We answer the door to a young man I recognize from photos as Presley’s brother, and an affable-looking guy with brown eyes and a mop of unruly black curls.
“Thank you for coming. I’m Dominic.”
Michael shakes my hand, and when he smiles, I can see the resemblance between him and Presley right away. They share the same curious blue eyes and high cheekbones. “Thanks for the invite. This is Elijah.”
“Make yourselves at home,” I say, stepping aside to let them in.
Presley hugs Michael and pecks him on the cheek. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t miss Thanksgiving with my big sister,” he replies with a grin.
“And Elijah,” she says, smiling. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things.”
“Then they’re all true,” Elijah says.
Michael shoots a grin at the other boy that’s so adoring, I almost expect cartoon hearts to float up around their heads.
Ah, young love . . . wait, did I really just think that? Dammit, being a dad has made me prematurely old.
Her eyes sparkling, Presley leans toward Michael. “Are you two exclusive yet?”
“Sis . . .” Michael groans, like the teenager he so recently was.
“We’re glad you’re here,” I say. Everyone smiles and the awkwardness dissolves, which is what I was hoping for. I shake Elijah’s hand too. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thank you for having me, Mr. Aspen,” he replies.
Points for politeness. “Please, call me Dominic. Dinner should be ready in twenty minutes—”
“Half an hour,” Francine yells from the kitchen. “It’s a big old bird.”
“What she said. But you can have some appetizers while you wait.”
Francine makes a noise of surprise, and I’m hoping she didn’t just chop off her finger or something.
“Presley, can you show them to the dining room while I go get that?”
“You have a whole dining room in your apartment?” Michael asks, wide-eyed.
“I know, right? This place is huge,” Presley says as she leads them off.
After checking on Francine (it was merely an excited squeal because her gravy is perfect), I bring in a plate of appetizers to set on the table. Lacey and Emilia follow me, but at the sight of strangers, they hide behind my legs, too shy to come forward, yet too curious to scurry back to Francine.
“Meet my daughters, Emilia and Lacey.” I point to each twin as I say her name.
Michael and Elijah squat down to greet the girls with friendly smiles.
“Hi, guys,” Michael says. “Nice to meet you. I’m Presley’s brother, Michael, and this is my boyfriend, Elijah.”
“You’re a boy,” Lacey says, poking her head out.
Grinning, Elijah nods. “I sure am.”
“Why?” Emilia asks.
“That’s a fantastically complicated question.” Elijah chuckles. “Guess I should’ve brought my Gender Studies textbook.”
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