Nicole held the phone to her ear with one hand, a half-zipped overnight bag in the other, as she kicked the front door closed behind her.

“I made it,” she said, adjusting her grip on the handle. “No snow, no traffic, and only one minor crisis involving my sister’s passive-aggressive texts.”

On the other end of the line, Edgar’s voice softened. “Glad you got there safe.”

She smiled, setting the bag down by the staircase. “I like how you actually care whether I arrive alive. That’s rare.”

“Low bar,” he said.

“Still,” she said. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever dated who doesn’t immediately go back to some sports game after I say goodbye.”

“I don’t even own a TV.”

“Right, I forgot. You’re basically a 1950s husband in disguise.”

He laughed, warm and quiet. She could picture him sitting in his car in the driveway, hand still on the gearshift, forehead resting against the steering wheel.

“You’re also the only person I know who doesn’t FaceTime,” she said.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s weird, is what it is. It’s 2025. You have a microwave and everything.”

“I still have a flip phone,” he reminded her. “Can’t video call with something that doesn’t even autocorrect.”

Nicole shook her head, amused. “Yeah, that’s weird too.”

Inside, she heard her mom calling out from the kitchen, probably pretending not to eavesdrop. She sighed.

“I should go. They’re circling.”

“Good luck,” he said. “Text me if you need a rescue.”

She smiled. “Happy Thanksgiving, Edgar.”

“You too.”

She hung up and slipped the phone into her back pocket.

—

Her mom had already emerged by the time Nicole reached the kitchen. “Was that Edgar?”

Nicole nodded. “Just checking in.”

“Well, I still think it’s odd he didn’t want to join us,” her mom said, drying her hands with a dish towel that had long ago given up on being white. “We invited him. It’s not like we’re total strangers.”

“He’s with his parents,” Nicole said, reaching for a carrot stick from the crudité platter. “That’s not weird. I’m here with you.”

Her mom frowned. “Yes, but we hardly see you since you moved to the city, dear.”

Nicole opened her mouth to respond, but her dad cut in from the dining room.

“Bit of a mama’s boy, isn’t he?”

Nicole blinked, caught off guard. “No. He’s just warm. And family-oriented. He treats his parents like they’re the most important people in the world. Honestly, it’s kind of sweet.”

Her mom cleared her throat. “So—how’s that little job of yours going?”

Nicole’s expression flattened. “It’s not a little job, Mom. It’s my job.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” her mom said, lifting her hands. “Just asking how it’s going. You know—day-to-day. Any plans for what’s next?”

“It’s fine. And no, I’m not going back to school.”

“Law school’s still on the table,” her mom added casually, like suggesting an appetizer. “It’s not too late.”

Nicole laughed without humor. “Amazing. It’s like a family tradition now. Turkey, stuffing, and unsolicited life advice.”

Her dad, trying to be helpful in the least helpful way possible, chimed in. “Did you hear Ethan’s back in town? The Wilson’s boy. You remember him, right?”

Nicole turned, eyes narrowing. “Oh my God. Seriously?”

“He’s a good guy,” her mom offered. “Working at Deloitte now.”

“And single,” her dad added.

“Wonderful,” Nicole muttered.

Her mom exhaled sharply through her nose. “We’re just trying to help.”

“I don’t need help; I have a boyfriend.”

They all stood there for a beat. Finally, Nicole grabbed a soda from the fridge and walked back toward the guest room.

She could still hear her mom’s voice in the other room. Ethan Wilson this, law school that.

Nicole took a sip and leaned back.

Maybe Edgar was a little reserved. A little old-school. But compared to this?

He felt like the one place where she could breathe.