“Thanks.” I hold up a wineglass as a silent offering, and he nods. “I know technically you should be sitting at the head of the table since it’s your house, but I figured since Harley’s parents are the only adults willing to put up with us, we’d let them have that honor. If it’s all right with you.”

Jack takes the glass of wine I hold out to him and shrugs. “Whatever you think is best. I’m definitely not up-to-date on holiday protocol.”

“Lucky for you, we don’t have protocol. We eat a lot and drink a lot and play some games and call it a day.” I clink my glass against his before taking a long sip. Mentally, I run through everything I was supposed to accomplish today, checking off boxes as I move down the list.

“What time is Gemma coming by tomorrow?” Jack leans his hip against the kitchen counter, perching himself just a few feet away from me.

“She’ll be here at eight, but sleep as late as you want.” I subtly shift, closing the distance between us just a smidge. “Also just a warning that we will be watching the parade and I will dance and sing along at opportune moments.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” He pairs his words with a teasing smile. “You all done for the day or you planning on tackling any more projects tonight?”

So yeah, I might’ve gone a little project crazy this week, but I really want everything to go smoothly tomorrow. I want this to be the perfect Thanksgiving for everyone. I want it to be the first of many this group spends together. Well, this complete group, the group that now includes Jack. I’ve been invited to Thanksgiving with the Roberts crew ever since freshman year, when Harley found out I was planning on spending the weekend alone in the dorms. It was the first time I’d ever seen her put her foot down, insisting I come home with her and spend the holiday weekend with her parents. Since then, Gemma has also joined us almost every year. Nick’s attendance is more sporadic, somewhat based on his parents’ random travel urges, but I’m guessing now that he and Harley are bumping things up a notch, he’ll be a more permanent fixture at the holiday table, even if his parents are spending this year in Italy.

I swallow the last of my wine. “I think I’m packing it in for tonight. Going to take a quick shower and head to bed. You?”

“I think I’m going to go paint for a bit.” He finishes his wine and takes both of our glasses over to the sink.