Chapter 28

Catherine's mother led Erika down the hallway, a warm smile on her face. "I hope you don't mind, sweetheart, but with the guest room being renovated, you'll both be staying in Catherine's old bedroom. I figured it'd be more comfortable than squeezing into my sewing room."

I felt a surge of quiet satisfaction. Sleeping in my childhood bedroom meant Erika would be even closer to me, and I'd get more time with my little one. More time to take care of her, to soothe her, to remind her she didn't need to worry about anything but being my baby.

Erika, on the other hand, didn't seem quite as thrilled. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag as my mother pushed open the door to reveal a space I hadn't seen in years.

Stepping inside, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia so strong it momentarily stole my breath. The pale lavender walls were the same, though a little faded with time. Shelves filled with old books and childhood relics lined one side of the room, and in the corner sat my antique writing desk, still covered in faint ink stains. My old bed, the same one I had spent countless nights curled up in, was neatly made with a floral quilt. It was smaller than I remembered, but it would be perfect for the two of us to share.

I turned to Erika, who was still standing stiffly in the doorway. "Come on, lovebug, let's get you settled in."

She hesitated before stepping inside, placing her bag down by the foot of the bed. I moved to unpack our things, making sure her pajamas were easy to grab later. I could feel her watching me, her expression unreadable.

"This feels weird," she finally muttered.

I smiled, straightening up. "It's just for a few nights, sweetheart. And besides, this means we get extra cuddle time."

Her cheeks flushed a faint pink, and she quickly looked away, mumbling something incoherent. Before I could tease her, my mother peeked in, leaning against the doorframe.

"Good night, monkey," she said with a chuckle.

I barely had time to register the old childhood nickname before Erika stiffened beside me, her face turning a deeper shade of red. She quickly looked at me, her eyes wide with embarrassment.

I grinned, biting back a laugh. "Guess it runs in the family."

Erika groaned, burying her face in my side. "Oh my god."

My mother gave me a knowing look before disappearing down the hall, leaving us alone. I shut the door softly behind her and turned back to my blushing little girl. "You okay, lovebug?"

"I don't want to share a bed," she huffed, arms crossing over her chest. "I move a lot in my sleep."

I sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside me. "You've slept with me before, baby. And you always settle just fine in my arms."

She hesitated, then begrudgingly climbed into bed. I pulled the covers over us, stroking her hair gently. "It's okay to be fussy, sweet girl. You're just adjusting."

She muttered something I didn't quite catch, but she didn't pull away when I hugged her close.

After a few moments, she whispered, "I'm worried about Tsuki."

I kissed the top of her head. "Dr. Dweck is taking care of her, remember? She's in good hands."

Erika sighed, finally relaxing against me. "Okay."

I rubbed her back in slow, soothing motions until her breathing evened out. My little girl needed her rest, and I needed her close.

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The kitchen was alive with the sound of pots clattering, the rich scent of roasting turkey filling the house. My mother hummed to herself as she moved from one dish to the next, expertly managing the chaos with a practiced ease.

Erika stood hesitantly near the counter, watching as my mother kneaded dough for the dinner rolls. I could tell she was unsure of her place, lingering on the outskirts of the activity, not wanting to overstep.

"Come here, sweetheart," my mother called, glancing over her shoulder. "You can help me with the stuffing."

Erika blinked in surprise before stepping forward, rolling up her sleeves. "Oh, uh... okay, Mrs. Barlowe."

The room went silent for a moment before my mother burst into laughter, shaking her head. "Oh, Lord, please, dear—Mrs. Barlowe makes me feel ancient. Just call me Grandma."

Erika froze, her eyes wide. "Grandma?"

My mother smiled warmly, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron before reaching out to pat Erika's cheek. "Of course, honey. You're part of this family now."

I saw Erika's fingers twitch at her sides before a hesitant but genuine smile crossed her lips. "Okay... Grandma."

The moment settled between them like a secret warmth, and I felt something loosen in Erika's posture. She was beginning to relax, to allow herself to belong.

"Now, here," my mother continued, handing Erika a wooden spoon. "You're in charge of stirring while I chop the onions. We have to get this stuffing just right."

As they worked side by side, I couldn't help but watch with quiet satisfaction. Erika had spent so much of her life on the outside, looking in. But here, in this kitchen, among the scent of spices and the sound of my mother's laughter, she was beginning to carve out a place for herself.

While Erika and my mother bonded over the stuffing, I focused on peeling potatoes at the sink, trying not to overanalyze my father's presence in the next room. He sat at the head of the dining table, reading the newspaper, his coffee mug balanced near the edge. He hadn't made any snide remarks, but his silence was just as pointed.

"Are we doing mashed or roasted this year?" I asked, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

"Mashed, of course," my mother replied. "No Thanksgiving is complete without creamy mashed potatoes."

"Do you want me to do the mashing?" Erika offered, still stirring diligently.

"That would be wonderful, sweetheart." My mother beamed.

I looked up just in time to catch my father's eyes as he set down his paper. "You never liked cooking when you were younger," he said, his voice even but with an edge of something unreadable.

I paused, gripping the peeler a little tighter. "Things change," I replied simply.

He nodded, as if weighing my response. "Apparently."

The air in the room shifted slightly, the warmth momentarily dampened. Erika looked between us, sensing the tension but wisely choosing not to get involved.

My mother cleared her throat and gave my father a sharp look before turning back to Erika. "Catherine never let me teach her how to cook, but she always had her nose in a book. You should have seen her, always studying."

Erika smirked. "That sounds about right."

My father exhaled, lifting his coffee to his lips. "And now she's playing house."

The words weren't loud, but they were sharp enough to slice through the conversation. I stiffened, my grip tightening on the potato peeler.

"Dad," I warned.

My mother shot him a look of absolute death, her voice a little too pleasant. "Oh, for goodness' sake, Harold, it's Thanksgiving."

Erika's shoulders hunched slightly, her hands still gripping the wooden spoon, as if debating whether she should excuse herself.

I set the peeler down with controlled precision and turned to fully face my father. "I'm not playing anything. I'm raising a daughter, which is more than I can say for you."

The words hung in the air, thick with weight.

My father set his coffee down, locking eyes with me. "You always were dramatic."

Before I could respond, my mother clapped her hands loudly. "Alright, that's enough." She turned to Erika with a warm smile, attempting to clear the tension. "Sweetheart, do you mind helping me with the pie crust?"

Erika glanced at me, her gaze questioning. I gave her a small nod, silently assuring her I was okay.

"Of course, Grandma," she finally said.

My mother smiled at the name but shot my father one last warning glance before leading Erika toward the counter. I turned back to my task, my jaw tight, but when I caught sight of Erika sneaking me a small, reassuring smile, the knot in my chest loosened just slightly.

Maybe today wouldn't be completely ruined after all.

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My mother had gone all out, filling the house with the scent of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, and freshly baked pies. The dining table was set with fine china, a centerpiece of autumn leaves and candles flickering softly in the dim light.

Erika sat beside me, picking at her plate with careful deliberation. She had been quiet since we woke up, the tension of the previous night lingering. I wanted her to feel at home, to know she belonged here, with me. She kept glancing at my parents, as if trying to gauge their opinion of her. I gave her knee a gentle squeeze under the table.

"Everything looks wonderful, Mom," I said, smiling as my mother placed a steaming dish of stuffing next to the turkey.

"Thank you, dear," she beamed, adjusting a napkin before turning her attention to Erika. "Erika, I hope you're hungry."

Erika offered a small smile, her posture stiff. "It looks delicious. Thank you for having me."

"Oh, nonsense, sweetheart," my mother said warmly. "You're family!"

My heart swelled at that. Erika deserved to hear that. She deserved to have someone tell her she belonged.

My father, who had been relatively silent up until now, finally spoke. "So, Erika, Catherine tells us you're studying neurology?" His tone was neutral, but it was the most engaged he'd been all evening. Unlike the morning.

Erika nodded, sitting up slightly straighter. "Yeah. I really enjoy it. It's challenging but... I like that."

"Good field," he said gruffly before taking a sip of his wine.

I caught Erika sneaking a glance at me, almost as if she were checking whether that was approval or disinterest. With my father, it was always hard to tell.

"Catherine was always so smart," my mother chimed in, smiling proudly. "I'm sure she's been a great mother to you."

Erika slightly choked on her drink before nodding. "Yeah" She cleared her throat, "she has, uh, she helps a lot."

I smirked at her, and she rolled her eyes playfully.

Just as the conversation was settling into something more comfortable, the front door swung open with a dramatic flourish, followed by a loud, energetic voice.

"Alright, alright, hold your applause—I'm here!"

I groaned instinctively.

"You're late," my father muttered.

"Not late—fashionably delayed," the voice shot back, and a second later, my younger brother, Jeremy, strode into the dining room with the kind of confident ease that made my mother sigh and my father rub his temples.

Jeremy was just like any teenage boy, but in his 20's—relaxed, easygoing, effortlessly cool. Dressed in a slightly wrinkled button-down over a plain T-shirt, his hair tousled as if he'd just rolled out of bed (which, knowing him, he probably had).

"Ah, Catherine," he said, smirking as he dropped into the empty seat across from me. "Still bossing people around, I assume?"

"Still forgetting how to read a clock, I assume?" I shot back dryly.

He let out a dramatic sigh. "I missed you too, kitty cat."

Then, his attention shifted to Erika. He looked her up and down with mild curiosity before grinning. "And who do we have here?"

"This is Erika," I said before he could start any of his usual antics.

"Erika," he repeated, holding out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. You must be really special if Cat brought you here. She doesn't just bring anyone home."

I shot him a warning glare.

Erika blushed heavily, yet to my mild surprise, actually laughed, shaking his hand. "It's nice to meet you too."

Jeremy leaned back in his chair, studying her. "So, you're stuck with my sister all the time, huh? How's that going for you?"

Erika smirked slightly, glancing at me before responding. "She's... very structured."

Jeremy let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, that's the polite way of saying 'control freak.'"

"Jeremy," my mother warned.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, though he was still grinning. "I like her, though. She's got a sense of humor. You're not too far gone, Cat."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Do you plan to eat dinner, or are you just here to be a menace?"

"Oh, I'm here to eat," he assured me, reaching for the mashed potatoes. "And to entertain."

Despite my initial irritation, I had to admit that Jeremy's arrival shifted the atmosphere. Erika seemed more relaxed, laughing at his ridiculous stories. He regaled her with tales of childhood pranks he pulled on me, and she listened intently, wide-eyed and giggling.

"One time," Jeremy said, between bites of stuffing, "Catherine had this big science fair project—something about neurons, I don't know. But I, being the loving brother I am, thought it would be hilarious to switch out her labeled slides with slides of... let's just say, some very non-scientific images."

"Jeremy!" my mother scolded.

Erika gasped, covering her mouth. "No way!"

"Yes way," he said proudly. "The best part? She didn't notice until she was already presenting."

Erika dissolved into laughter, and I groaned. "You're lucky I didn't murder you."

"You tried," he reminded me.

Dinner continued in this fashion—easy, lighthearted, and surprisingly enjoyable. Erika, while still quiet at times, smiled and participated in the conversation.

After dessert—pumpkin pie, which Erika had shyly admitted was her favorite—my mother sighed happily. "Well, I'd call that a successful Thanksgiving dinner."

"It was really nice," Erika said, smiling softly.

My mother patted her hand. "I'm so glad you're here, sweetheart."

Erika looked down at her plate, clearly touched.

Then my mother yawned, stretching. "Alright, I think it's time for this old woman to call it a night."

Jeremy smirked. "You're not old, Mom."

She ruffled his hair before standing and turning toward me. "You girls get some rest too. And Erika?"

"Yes?"

"Goodnight, Monkey."

My stomach dropped.

Erika stiffened beside me, her face turning red.

Oh.

I hadn't exactly told my mother about that nickname.

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Monkey?"

"Mom," I sighed.

She just smiled knowingly. "It suits her. Goodnight, girls."

Jeremy leaned in, clearly delighted by this new information. "Monkey, huh?"

Erika buried her face in her hands. "I hate all of you."

Jeremy and I both laughed.

But as the night wound down and Erika and I retreated to my childhood bedroom, the air between us felt different. She was quieter again, more withdrawn.

As I pulled the covers over both of us, I noticed her staring at the ceiling, her brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?" I asked gently.

She hesitated before whispering, "What if they don't like me?"

My chest ached at the vulnerability in her voice.

"They do," I assured her. "They already do."

"But what if they change their minds?"

I turned on my side to face her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "That won't happen. You're part of this family, Erika. My family. And that's never going to change."

She swallowed hard, nodding.

A long silence stretched between us before she mumbled, "I miss Tsuki."

I smiled. "Dr. Dweck is taking great care of her. She'll be fine."

Erika still looked uncertain, but she finally sighed, relaxing slightly.

I waited until her breathing evened out before whispering, "Goodnight, Monkey."

She didn't respond.

But I didn't miss the tiny smile on her lips as she drifted off to sleep.

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

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guys two updates in the same month?? a win is a win