A/N: Hello! Well, thank you all for your lovely reviews- they ABSOLUTELY made my day. And for your troubles, you all have secured yourselves chapter 2 of this tale in a very timely fashion!
So, here's chapter 2 of A Cal Lightman Thanksgiving!
Cal was standing in his kitchen, bent over the oven pulling a pan of lasagna out of the oven. He was clad in his seasonal apron which so happened to be covered in leaves of various assorted colors.
With a flourish, he placed it on the stovetop and presented it to his daughter, Emily, who was seated in one of the bar stools, hunched over her books studying for a math exam. Seeing his dramatic gesture, she looked up from her reading and laughed at the silly expression on his face.
Her brown eyes lit up as she looked at him, "Smells delicious, Dad." She said, finally, laughing at the look he gave her.
"'Course it does," He said, taking the oven mitt off his hand and placing it on the hook by the oven, "I made it, didn't I?" Walking over to his daughter, he peered over her shoulder, "How do you think you'll do on your math exam?"
The teenage girl scrunched up her nose, "I'm not really sure—we'll see, I guess." She said, before she smiled and added, "It's a wonder I'm not more conceited, though, what with you as a father figure and all."
Cal grinned at his daughter and then threw her a mock pained expression, "That hurts, Emily," He said, walking over to the sink and washing his hands, "Hurts." He said again, and Emily giggled.
Emily was about to reply when a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts—"Gill!" She screamed, and slid off the chair, poised to get the door.
Cal's voice gave her pause, "Oi!" He called, and she spun around on her heel, looking at him expectantly, "You can answer the door, but make yourself scarce for a few minutes, yeah?" Cal's hand motioned to the books spread out over the counter, and rolled his eyes upward, indicating his suggestion.
Emily grinned widely before scooping up her books and heading toward the front door, "Sure, dad—anything you say!" She said as she shoved the books under her left arm, papers spilling out in disarray.
Cal waited in the kitchen, pulling out the bottle of wine he'd picked up and two glasses. Sighing, he tried to ignore a sense of impending dread as he opened the drawer to find the wine opener.
Cal could hear the door open and the voices drift toward him—he smiled when he heard the gentle tenor of Gillian's as she greeted Emily.
Emily swung the door open and grinned at Gillian, "Hi, Gill!" She exclaimed excitedly, and held the door open for her to come inside.
"Hey, Em." Gillian greeted, a warm smile gracing her face.
Emily wrapped her right arm—the one that was not clutching her study materials—around Gillian in a makeshift hug which Gillian returned with a light laugh.
"I've missed you lately!" Emily said, closing the door and locking it.
Gillian smiled again, "I've missed you too—we've just been so busy at work." She said, by way of explanation.
Emily nodded her understanding, "That's what Dad said." She said, and then she added, "He's in the kitchen, by the way." Gillian nodded, and Emily laughed, "I've got a huge test tomorrow, so I'm going to be up in my room studying until it's time to eat." She said, and then turned on her heel and went up the stairs, still clutching her book, her long brown hair swaying in its gentle curls as she ascended.
Gillian sighed and watched Emily's retreating form. She and Cal had been—well, she wasn't quite sure what they had been, actually—but they'd been it for nearly three weeks, and the way that Emily absolutely embraced Gillian as a member of the family even though she technically wasn't still made Gillian's heart swell with love.
She made her way to the kitchen and pushed the door open. She was greeted with a sight that also made her heart swell—Cal Lightman, clad in a kitschy apron, leaning against the kitchen counter, grinning at her.
"Hello, love." He said, his palms braced behind him on the counter.
She smiled at him, and then got a better look at his apron. It was an off-white color with leaves on it in a variety of colors—red, orange and yellow with a few brown thrown into the mix. And on the pocket of the apron was a giant orange pumpkin with the vine still on it. Looking him up and down, she began to laugh, "Cal, what is it with you and your aprons?" She questioned.
Cal enjoyed seeing the way her face lit up when she laughed and her eyes crinkled at the sides. He shrugged at her and then reached behind him, untied the apron and lifted it over his head. Setting it gingerly on the counter behind him, he looked Gillian up and down. His eyes took in her dark wash jeans and her brown shirt and he looked at her approvingly, marveling in her ability to make comfortable look downright sexy.
Despite the fact that she and Cal had crossed a proverbial line in their relationship, Gillian was still often taken aback by the way Cal looked at her—and standing in the middle of his kitchen, she felt exposed, subject to his appreciate glance, and she flushed under his attention.
He walked towards her and Gillian felt butterflies in her stomach at the look in his eye as he did so. Cal shrugged when he stopped in front of her, in answer to her question. Then, without warning, he snaked his right arm out and wrapped it around her waist, drawing her close to him. Smiling at her, his gaze darted from her eyes back down to her mouth and then back to her eyes again before he placed his lips on hers. Gillian sighed into him as he deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing together as he ran his left hand up her back and into her hair while her hands encircled his waist and she pressed her body into his.
Pulling away, Cal licked his lips and his voice was gravelly with desire when he said, "I've missed you, darling."
Her eyes shone as she looked him in the eye, "I've missed you too." She said, and then Cal encircled her in a hug again, before pulling away and heading to the oven.
He set the oven on low heat, picked up the lasagna tray and slid it into the oven. "Lasagna alright?" He asked as he shut the door.
Gillian smiled—lasagna was one of her favorites, which Cal well knew, she made a little sound of appreciation, "More than alright," She said, sidling up to the bar stool in the kitchen.
Cal then busied himself with opening the bottle of wine. As the cork popped out, he looked at Gillian who was raising her eyebrow at him.
"Uh oh." She said as she hoisted herself onto the chair, "What have you done now?"
Cal chuckled and poured the sauvignon blanc into the two waiting wine glasses. Walking over to her, he widened his eyes in a way that he hoped suggested innocence, "Can't I just want to spend a lovely evening with you sipping wine and eating one of your favorite foods?" He asked as he handed her the glass.
Gillian laughed as she took the glass from his hands. She brought the rim of the glass to her lips and took a sip, she smiled as the flavor hit her tongue, "You could." She said, "But I doubt that's what's going on here," She said, raising her eyebrows and taking another swallow of the wine.
Cal studied her, narrowing his eyes as he leaned in closer to her, "I" he said as he rested his left hand on the counter in front of her, "am offended by that."
Gillian rolled her eyes, "I'm sure you are." She said, a smile playing on her lips.
Cal laughed then and straightened himself, the proverbial cogs turning in his head. He wasn't entirely sure about how he should go about broaching the subject of Thanksgiving dinner at Zoe's with Gillian.
"So…" Gillian said, her eyes still fixed on him, "What's up?"
Cal hesitated slightly and then sighed heavily. Unable to think of a way to delicately articulate his question, he decided to drive right in, "Have any plans for Thanksgiving?" He asked.
Gillian eyed him appraisingly—and she felt a sense of dread pass over her. She knew precisely why Cal was asking. She momentarily considered lying to him but quickly decided against it—"I was just going to stay in and make dinner." She said, simply.
Cal maintained eye contact with her and he could see her discomfort, "Gillian," He said, reaching out and placing a hand on hers, "Come to Zoe's with Emily and me." He said gently.
Gillian's eyes went wide with what Cal could only describe as panic. He would have laughed had it not been apparent that she felt it so deeply. She'd been expecting him to ask, of course, but she still couldn't contain her reaction, "Cal…" She said, and it nearly registered as a groan, "I don't think that's the best idea." She said, finally.
"Why not?" He asked, his palms upward.
She looked at him and narrowed her eyes, "You know full well why not." She responded, her tone taking on a rather admonishing quality.
Cal shrugged, "Come on, Gillian." He said, his tone gentle while at the same time pleading.
She sighed and shook her head. "I don't think so." She said, glancing away at some point on the countertop in front of her, "Maybe you and Emily can stop by after Zoe's?" She posited, her eyes hopeful.
Cal turned his head, "Zoe invited you." He said, matter-of-factly.
Gillian looked at him then and she nearly laughed. She had remembered him as a better liar. A small smile played on her lips when she spoke, "Liar."
Cal smiled at her then, "Okay, well, no she didn't. But, she wants you there." He tried again.
Gillian looked at him and couldn't stop her mouth from hanging slightly open. Finally, she chuckled and then said, "Cal Lightman, you are such a liar." Shaking her head, she added, "And you used to be so much better at it, too!"
Cal shrugged his shoulders, "Okay, no she doesn't." He paused and his eyes turned serious, "But I do."
Gillian smiled as she allowed her eyes to pass over his face, "Well, at least that's the truth."
Cal nodded, "It is." He leaned into her, "I really really want you there, actually." She chuckled and he added, "And Emily wants you there, too."
Gillian's mouth opened slightly, "Hey, no fair using your daughter like that." She admonished.
Cal grinned, "Sorry, darling, but it's true. She loves you and I know for a fact that Em wants you there."
Just then, as if summoned by the power of his suggestion, Emily walked through the door, "I want Gillian where?" She asked, her gaze shifting back and forth between her father and Gillian.
Cal grinned as if to say you have perfect timing, before he answered, "At Thanksgiving dinner at your mum's."
As soon as Cal's words reached Emily's ears, she lit up and emitted a rather high pitched shriek, "Ohmygod!" She exclaimed, the words rushing together as they were prone to do when she was excited, "Yes! Yes, I do. You have to come, Gillian."
Gillian sighed heavily, "I don't know…"
At Gillian's hesitation, Emily pouted. Gillian laughed at her and then turned her attention to Cal only to find that he, too, was taking his daughter's lead and pouting. "You two!" She exclaimed, shaking her head.
"Please, Gillian?" Emily said through her pout.
"Yeah, Please, Gillian?" Cal echoed, leaning his elbow on the counter and resting his chin on his fist.
Gillian pursed her lips, and thought about it. Truthfully, she didn't want to go to Zoe's for Thanksgiving. She really, really didn't want to go. There was no love lost between Gillian and Zoe, and Cal was well aware of that. Gillian was fairly certain that things would be awkward at best and horrible at worst, and still her gaze flickered between Emily and Cal, two of the most important people in her life, and she felt her resolve dwindling.
"Roger's going to be there." Emily said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Gillian," She said, seriously, "You have to come. You can't not come! It's yours and Dad's first Thanksgiving together together." Emily finished.
Gillian sighed heavily and looked at both Emily and Cal, both of whom were looking at her with hopeful, expectant, wide eyes. "For the record, you two ganging up on me is not fair!" She said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Is that a yes?" Cal asked, still resting his elbow on the counter.
Emily was biting her lip in anticipation, "That is a tentative, I hate you both, reluctant yes." She said, finally, and Emily squealed and then reached her right hand out in front of her extending it toward her father. Understanding what she wanted, they exchanged an exuberant high-five.
Gillian rolled her eyes.
Emily laughed and walked over to the refrigerator, intent on pouring herself a glass of water, "And you don't hate us." Emily said as she pulled the Brita filter out of the fridge and grabbed a cup from the cupboard, "You totally love us." She said, matter-of-factly as she tilted the Brita at an angle.
As the clear liquid ran into Emily's cup, Gillian felt Cal's eyes on her and she colored under his gaze. Feeling a lump form in her throat, she swallowed hard around it and avoided his gaze. Emily, oblivious, began sipping her water.
Breaking the silence she didn't even realize had thickened with the weight of things unsaid, Emily spoke, "Is it time to eat yet?" She asked, her gaze flicking to the oven.
Thankful for the out, Gillian laughed and said, "I sure hope so, I'm starved."
Cal's gaze was still on her, and it didn't waver when he spoke, "Should be, yeah." Gillian still didn't meet his gaze. Languidly, Cal pushed himself away from the counter using his elbow, and finally—reluctantly and slowly—took his gaze off Gillian and turned it to the oven.
Emily said a quick "yes!" under her breath and grabbed the plates and silverware to set the table.
When she'd left, Cal bent over the oven to retrieve the lasagna that had been warming. He smiled when he felt Gillian's gaze on him and chuckled when he looked over his shoulder to confirm that Gillian was, in fact, staring at his ass.
"Like what you see, love?" He asked as he pulled the lasagna out of the oven.
Chuckling lightly, Gillian grabbed the napkins off the counter, and walked out of the kitchen to join Emily.
Cal sighed in relief after she'd left—Gillian would finally be spending Thanksgiving with him. He ignored the part where they'd be spending it with his ex-wife, too.
TBC!
Look ahead for football time and turkey and tension and so much more!