Remember This Part

28. The Turkey Isn't the Only Thing That Gets Roasted

Alex.

"Ha," Thea announces victoriously. "My quesito looks better than yours."

I glance over at her, taking in the sight of her mussed hair and the brush of flour on her cheek. Admittedly, I stare a little longer at the cream cheese on her bottom lip from when she sampled the filling. And then, finally, I look at the misshapen dough in front of her.

"It does not," I say with a snort. She frowns at me, drawing my attention once again to her mouth.

"Imelda, doesn't my quesito look beautiful?" she asks in a hopeful voice.

Abuela looks up from where she'd been hyper-focused on the pavochon and—after looking at Thea's "quesito"—says, "Keep trying, cariño." I send Thea a satisfied smirk, which earns me a glare.

"It's not so bad," I reassure her, coming to her side.

"Es terrible," Gonzalo mutters from the couch, without even looking back.

"I know what that means!" Thea shouts indignantly.

"Estoy sorprendido de que pudieras entender eso," Gonzalo replies.

"Did he just insult me?" Thea asks me quietly.

"Yes."

She scowls and says, "Gonzalo, it's a lovely day. Stop being so sour."

It just so happens that, at this exact moment, Felisa ambles past, eyes Thea's creation, and says, "That is the ugliest quesito I've ever seen."

"Excuse me, what is with all the sour attitudes in this room? It's Thanksgiving," Thea says hotly. I bite back a laugh.

"I think it's beautiful, Thea," Ellie chirps.

"Thank you, Ellie. Right now, you are my favorite old person in this room."

This time, I don't bother hiding my amusement as I wrap my arms around Thea to help her shape the dough.

"And who's your favorite young person in the room right now?" I ask.

"Hmm..." Thea murmurs thoughtfully. "Gordo."

"Gordo is a ceramic cat. He's not a person," I point out.

And then, at almost the exact same time, Thea and Abuela say, "Yes he is."

A laugh rumbles out of me, just as I feel Thea's phone—stowed in her back pocket—buzz against my leg.

"That's probably Nika," Thea says without hesitation, scooting out from where she'd been tucked between me and the counter.

"Again?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"She's nervous about her date on Saturday. You can't blame her."

"I can, because she keeps pulling you away."

"You're just mad because you know Nika would only have good things to say about my quesito," she points out.

"You should get more honest friends," Felisa mumbles.

"Or maybe Imelda should just get nicer friends," Thea says, making a face at Felisa before exiting the kitchen. Abuela chuckles and shakes her head.

"Is there any way I can convince you two to stay for the whole night?" she asks me. "I'm having too much fun."

"You could convince me pretty easily," I admit, placing the last quesito on the baking tray as I nod toward Thea. "But I go where she goes. And apparently Thanksgiving happens to fall on Meet-the-Mother Day this year."