“Oh, this one is beautiful,” Mrs. Wangford says, pointing at the snowball fight photo. “Libby almost looks like she’s out of high school.”

“It’s Lizzie, Mom,” Landon argues from behind me in the kitchen. He’s helping mash the potatoes, and by the way it’s going, those potatoes will be paste by the time he’s done.

“That’s what I said.”

Mom doesn’t miss a beat, smiling just as sour sweetly at Mrs. Wangford. “If only we all looked younger than we are, am I right, Judy?”

Mrs. Wangford’s horribly fake smile twitches. “Oh, it’s Julie.”

Mom looks at her dead-on. “That’s what I said.”

Landon starts choking on nothing but air, and he turns to the oven to cover his laugh. I give him one good swat on the back, then run my hand to the back of his head and squeeze twice. He quirks a grin my direction, puts the potato masher down, and squeezes my hip once.

It’s the most romantic moment we’ve had all month.

The timer on the oven buzzes, cutting through the death glares our moms are giving each other, and Landon waves me from our tiny kitchen so he can pull my badass turkey out. It’s not black and smells like heaven, so I’m calling it a win.

“Let me see it,” I say, bouncing back into the kitchen when Landon taps the oven door closed. The juice in the bottom of the bag is boiling, and the top of the turkey looks well-seasoned and very Christmasy. Score. Maybe Landon’s mom won’t have anything backhanded to say about my cooking skills.

Landon cuts open the bag, and the aroma fills our apartment so much that Dad is already making his way to our foldout card table, tucking his napkin into his shirt. Mom bats Landon out of the kitchen and tells him to sit while she teaches me how to carve. I honestly think she just wants some distance from Mrs. Wangford.

“She’s a real piece of work,” she says out of the side of her mouth when she sidles up next to me by the oven. “I’m ready to start drinking.”

“I think your tongue is loose enough,” I joke, grabbing a long knife from the side drawer.

“Oh, not that one. Get the one with the serrated edges.”

I swap knives and grab the pitchfork for food or whatever that thing is called, but stop when I see Mom’s furrowed brow as she examines my beautiful turkey.

“Mom?”

“Hmmm…” she says thoughtfully, peeling some of the turkey bag down. “It…looks different.”

“Do I need to cook it longer?”

“Can I see that knife?”

I hand it over, heart suddenly pounding too hard because, crap, have I messed up something else? But she cuts into the side of the turkey, and it looks good to me.

“Oh, honey,” she says with a laugh, “you cooked it upside down.”

My eyebrows pull in. “There’s a right side up?”

She nods, running the blade across the moist turkey. “This is all dark meat, see? The turkey goes in breast up.”

And that moment is the first I ever drop the big curse bomb in front of my mother.

“Elizabeth Ann,” she scolds, whacking me with an oven mitt.

“I’m sorry.” I’m not sorry. “But mother-in-law from hell is going to say something about this!”

Mom nods, stabbing the turkey in the center and flopping it around. And in her lovely haste to save me from insults, she splashes us both with blazing-hot turkey juice.

And that moment is the second I ever drop the big curse bomb in front of my mother. It’s a lot louder this time.

Landon and Dad rush to the kitchen while Mom and I scream and turn on the cold water in the sink. We strip out of our aprons and fight over who gets more water, jabbing our arms under the stream.

“Get the toothpaste, Paul,” Mom babbles at my dad. He turns back around the corner, and Landon reaches for my shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“We have to get it off you.”

“My dad’s coming back in!”

Landon pulls his shirt off, grabs mine, and swaps them out so fast Mom doesn’t even have a chance to see what kind of bra I’m wearing.

She does get a nice view of Landon’s bare chest, though. We’re all officially family now.

Dad sidles past Landon, double-taking the half-nudity, and hands Mom the toothpaste. She twists the cap off, grabs my arm, and goops me up.

“What…”

“It helps the burn,” she says, but she doesn’t have to. I can already feel it starting to work. Landon runs out and comes back seconds later with another tube and a shirt for himself. He gets to work on the rest of my burned skin while Dad covers Mom.

“Is everything okay in there?” comes the overly joyful voice of Satan.

I look up at Landon, neck burning not only from the juice.

“We’re fine!” he says, then rubs Aquafresh across my collarbone. I hiss in a breath.

“My nose is fine, Paul.” Mom giggles, swatting Dad on the shoulder as he attempts to spread toothpaste across her face. I gaze over Landon’s shoulder at them, and as they tease each other, I see no peas and carrots. I don’t see dessert, either. I kind of see…well, everything.

“Feel better?” Landon asks, capping the tube.

“How do I look?”

“Like something out of The Walking Stiff.” He sets the toothpaste on the counter. “But you smell good.”

“What happened?” Dad asks, eyeing the mess on the stove.

“Mom decided to shower us with turkey juice.”

She gasps. “Don’t you blame this all on me!”

Dad tickles her hip, and I grin like a big buffoon because they’ve been together for over twenty-five years and they are still doing things like that.

“Okay, I’ll carve.”

He takes the knife, and Landon says he’ll set the table while Mom and I sit with the Wangfords. I sort of want to take my chances with the turkey.

The reactions to our toothpaste skin are pretty much what I expected. At least I’m getting to know my future in-laws. Mr. Wangford stands from the table and asks if we’re okay. We are, but he doesn’t sit till we do. Mrs. Wangford doesn’t make a comment about our appearance, but she wrinkles her nose.

Dad and Landon get everything to the table, and after my momma says a quick prayer, she starts dishing out food.

Mrs. Wangford doesn’t eat a bite of turkey. Figures. Of course, it’s too bad for her, because it’s the best-tasting thing on this planet. Cooking it upside down actually made it juicier and more tender. I make no attempt to impress Mrs. Stick-Up-Her-Ass, slurping my food and smiling with it between my teeth. Landon shakes his head and laughs at me, but his amusement could be from the toothpaste all over my body.

I’m changing the In-law Hurdle to “Don’t let them bother you.” I’m hoping it’s not as difficult as the other Hurdle was.

Chapter 29

JANUARY

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” Jace mutters at the TV in his studio apartment, sliding to the edge of the couch and clutching his beer. It’s 21-14 in favor of the Titans, but the Jets are closing in on the end zone. I’d pay more attention, but it’s not like the Falcons are playing.

Landon pushes a salsa-covered chip at me, and I open wide for him to shove that sucker in. We both laugh as the salsa collects in the corners of my mouth.

“Yes!” Jace hollers, both he and Alec getting to their feet and victory dancing. Landon stays seated on the recliner, but probably only because I’m occupying his lap.

The Jets make the touchdown and then the extra point, tying the game and sending us right into a commercial break. I get up from Landon’s lap with a butt wiggle in the face, then offer to get anyone another beer while I grab a water. I’m trying to drop a couple pounds, so I’m avoiding chocolate and alcohol till the wedding. But I’m not completely strict about dieting, considering I hop back into Landon’s lap and let him stuff my face with more chips.