Updated Mar 13, 2026 • ~11 min read
“Your mother is going to know something’s wrong.”
I’m standing in front of the mirror, adjusting my dress for the third time. Holden is leaning against the doorframe, watching me with barely concealed amusement.
“She’s not going to know anything,” I say.
“Tessa, your mom is like a human lie detector.”
He’s not wrong. My mother has an uncanny ability to sniff out secrets. When I was sixteen and snuck out to a party, she knew before I even made it to the front door. When Noah got his first tattoo at nineteen, she called him within an hour asking about it.
If anyone is going to figure out that I’m secretly married to Holden Reid, it’s my mother.
“We’ll be fine,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “We’ve been practicing.”
We have been practicing. All week. How to act around each other at Thanksgiving dinner. The balance between too friendly (suspicious) and too hostile (also suspicious). We’ve rehearsed responses to questions, coordinated our stories, even practiced our body language.
It’s exhausting.
“Ready?” Holden asks.
“No.”
“Me neither. Let’s go.”
Thanksgiving at my family’s house is chaos.
My mother’s house—a cozy three-bedroom in the suburbs—is packed with people. My parents. Noah and Margot. My aunt Linda and uncle Steve. Various cousins. And this year, because Noah insisted, Holden.
“It’ll be weird if I don’t invite my best friend to Thanksgiving,” Noah had said. “Plus, Mom loves him.”
She does love him. Always has. Ever since Noah brought Holden home in high school, my mother has treated him like a third child.
Which makes this whole situation even more complicated.
“Tessa!” My mother—Marina—pulls me into a hug the second we walk through the door. “You look beautiful! And so thin! Are you eating enough?”
“Mom, I eat plenty.”
“You work too hard. All those weddings.” She releases me and turns to Holden. “And you! Come here!”
She hugs him too. Holden towers over her, but he bends down and lets her squeeze him.
“Good to see you, Marina.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Mom.”
I see Holden’s eyes flick to me. A silent conversation: This is torture.
“Come in, come in!” My mother ushers us inside. “Hudson is already here. And Linda brought her famous sweet potato casserole.”
We navigate through the crowd. My older brother Hudson—cop, overprotective, generally suspicious of everyone—is in the living room with his wife and kids.
“Tessa!” He pulls me into a hug that lifts me off my feet. “Been too long, little sister.”
“Put me down, you Neanderthal.”
He laughs and sets me down. Then he sees Holden.
His expression shifts. Not unfriendly. But assessing.
“Holden Reid.”
“Hudson.”
They shake hands. Hudson’s grip is probably slightly too firm. Holden doesn’t flinch.
“Heard you’re doing well,” Hudson says. “Big sports agent now.”
“Doing alright.”
“Noah says you’re seeing someone.”
My stomach drops.
“Uh, yeah,” Holden says. “Sarah. She’s… great.”
“Why didn’t you bring her?”
“She’s with her family. In Portland.”
The lies are getting more elaborate.
Hudson nods. “Next time, maybe.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
I excuse myself and flee to the kitchen. My mother is there with Margot, both of them elbow-deep in turkey prep.
“Need help?” I ask.
“Can you mash the potatoes?” my mother asks. “They’re already boiled.”
I take the masher and start working. It’s meditative. Violent. Exactly what I need.
“So,” Margot says casually. Too casually. “You and Holden seemed cozy when you walked in.”
I nearly drop the masher. “What?”
“Nothing bad! Just… you walked in together. I thought you drove separately.”
“Oh. We—he offered me a ride. Since we were coming from the same area.”
More lies.
“That was nice of him,” my mother says.
“Yeah. Very nice.”
Margot is looking at me with that expression. The one that says she doesn’t quite believe me but isn’t going to push.
Yet.
“How’s the wedding planning?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Stressful. The bride changed her mind about flowers yesterday. YESTERDAY. Two weeks before the wedding.”
“Yikes.”
“I spent four hours on the phone with florists.”
We fall into easy conversation about weddings and work and holiday plans. But I can feel Margot watching me. Assessing.
She knows something is off.
Dinner is a production.
Seventeen people crammed around a table meant for twelve. Food everywhere. Conversations overlapping. Kids shrieking. The beautiful chaos of family.
I end up seated between Hudson and Holden. Across from Noah.
This was not the seating arrangement I would have chosen.
“Let’s say grace,” my mother announces.
We all hold hands. I take Hudson’s hand on my left. And Holden’s on my right.
His hand is warm. Familiar. His thumb traces a small circle on my palm.
A secret touch. Just for me.
My mother says a prayer about gratitude and family and being together. I try to focus on her words. But all I can think about is Holden’s thumb on my palm and the ring hidden under my glove and the fact that I’m holding hands with my husband while pretending he’s just my brother’s best friend.
“Amen,” everyone choruses.
We drop hands and start passing food.
The meal is delicious. My mother went all out—turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, three kinds of vegetables, rolls, cranberry sauce. It’s too much food for seventeen people but that’s never stopped her before.
“So Holden,” my father says from the head of the table. “Noah tells me you signed an Olympic gymnast.”
“Yeah. Autumn Hayes. Just signed her last week.”
“That’s impressive. I saw her at the Games. Incredible athlete.”
“She is. And a genuinely great person.”
“He’s being modest,” Noah adds. “Autumn is going to be huge. Holden’s already got her endorsement deals lined up.”
“That’s wonderful,” my mother says. “And this Sarah girl? How’s that going?”
Everyone goes quiet.
Holden clears his throat. “It’s going well.”
“How did you meet?”
“Through work. She’s a consultant.”
“What kind of consultant?”
“Business strategy.”
My mother nods approvingly. “Smart girl. When do we get to meet her?”
“Soon. Maybe Christmas.”
“Oh, that would be lovely! We can make it a couples thing. You and Sarah, Noah and Margot, Tessa and—” She stops. Looks at me. “Are you seeing anyone, honey?”
Every eye at the table turns to me.
“Um. Not really.”
“Not really?” Hudson frowns. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m focusing on work.”
“You’re always focusing on work.”
“Because work is important!”
“So is having a life,” my mother says gently. “You’re twenty-five, Tessa. You should be dating. Having fun.”
“I have fun.”
“Planning other people’s weddings doesn’t count.”
Holden’s leg presses against mine under the table. Solid. Reassuring.
“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
“What about that nice boy from your yoga class? Daniel?”
“Derek. And no. He’s dating someone.”
“Oh. Well, what about—”
“Marina,” my father interrupts. “Let the girl breathe.”
My mother huffs but drops it.
The conversation moves on. Noah and Hudson start arguing about football. Margot and my aunt Linda discuss holiday shopping. The kids demand more rolls.
And under the table, Holden’s hand finds mine.
He laces our fingers together. Squeezes.
I squeeze back.
It’s risky. If anyone saw, if someone looked under the table, if a kid dropped their fork and looked down—
But for this moment, I don’t care.
I hold my husband’s hand and let myself pretend this is normal. That we can do this. Be together. In front of everyone.
“You know what we should do?” my mother announces during dessert. “A family photo! Everyone together!”
There’s groaning but we all comply. We crowd into the living room. My mother directs us like we’re a military operation.
“Hudson, you’re in the back. You’re too tall. Linda, sit on the couch. Kids, on the floor. Everyone else, fill in.”
She’s using her phone on a tripod. Timer set for ten seconds.
“Tessa, squeeze in more. You’re cut off.”
I try to shift but there’s no room.
“Here.” Holden’s arm slides around my waist, pulling me against him. “Better?”
His body is solid behind mine. His hand splayed across my stomach.
We fit together perfectly.
“Perfect!” my mother says. “Everyone say ‘Thanksgiving!'”
“THANKSGIVING!”
The camera clicks. Multiple times.
We break apart. But I can still feel the ghost of Holden’s hand on my waist.
“Let me see!” My mother is immediately reviewing the photos. “Oh, these are lovely! I’m sending them to everyone.”
My phone buzzes a moment later. The family photo appears in the group chat.
We all look happy. Relaxed. Like a normal family on a normal Thanksgiving.
But when I zoom in on me and Holden, I see something else.
The way he’s holding me. The way I’m leaning back into him. The way we’re both smiling like we know a secret no one else does.
We look like a couple.
“That’s a great photo,” Margot says, looking over my shoulder. “You and Holden look so natural together.”
My heart stops. “What?”
“You just look comfortable. Like you’ve known each other forever.”
“Well, we have known each other forever. Since I was fourteen.”
“True.” But she’s still looking at the photo. Thoughtful. “You’d make a cute couple, you know.”
“Who would?” Noah appears behind us.
“Tessa and Holden,” Margot says innocently.
“WHAT?” Noah’s voice goes loud. “No. Absolutely not.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Margot, no. Tessa and Holden? Never happening.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s my best friend! And she’s my sister! That’s weird!”
“It’s not that weird—”
“It’s extremely weird. Tessa, tell her it’s weird.”
I look at Holden. He’s across the room, talking to my father, but his eyes are on me.
“It’s weird,” I say quietly.
“See?” Noah looks at Margot. “Weird. Now drop it.”
But the damage is done.
Because now everyone is looking at the photo. Noticing how Holden and I are positioned. How natural it looks.
My mother’s eyes narrow slightly. Assessing.
She knows something.
I can see it in her face.
We leave two hours later, stuffed with food and pie and tension.
Holden drives us home in silence.
“That was close,” he says finally.
“Margot knows something.”
“She suspects something. That’s different.”
“And my mother definitely knows something.”
“Your mother is terrifying.”
“Agreed.”
We pull into the parking garage. Sit in the car for a moment.
“We need to tell Noah,” I say. “Soon. Before someone else figures it out and tells him first.”
“Agreed.”
“This weekend?”
“This weekend.”
We sit there, hands clasped, dreading what’s coming.
“For what it’s worth,” Holden says quietly, “I liked holding you during that photo.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It felt right. Like that’s where I’m supposed to be.”
My chest tightens. “Holden—”
“I know. It’s too soon. We’ve only been doing this for real for a few weeks. But Tessa—” He turns to face me. “I need you to know. This isn’t just convenient for me. This isn’t just solving the IRS problem or making the best of a bad situation. This is real. You’re real. What I feel for you is real.”
“What do you feel for me?”
He’s quiet for a long moment.
“I’m falling in love with you,” he says finally. “Actually, that’s a lie. I’ve been in love with you for years. I just finally get to do something about it.”
Oh.
Oh God.
“You love me?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“But we’ve hated each other for eleven years.”
“I never hated you. I was just really bad at showing you how I actually felt.”
My eyes are stinging. “Holden—”
“You don’t have to say it back. I’m not expecting—”
I kiss him.
Right there in the car, in the parking garage, with the overhead light making everything harsh and unflattering.
I kiss him like my life depends on it.
When I pull back, we’re both breathing hard.
“I love you too,” I whisper. “I think I’ve been falling for you since the pasta dinner. Maybe even before that. Since Vegas, when you held my hand and told me we’d figure it out together. I love you, Holden Reid. And it’s terrifying.”
He grins. “Why is it terrifying?”
“Because in two days we’re going to tell my brother we’re married. And he’s going to lose his mind. And there’s a very good chance he’s going to make us choose between him and each other.”
“Then I choose you.”
“Holden—”
“I’m serious. I choose you. Every time. No matter what.”
“Even if Noah never forgives us?”
“Even then.”
I lean my forehead against his. “We’re really doing this.”
“We really are.”
“No backing out now.”
“No backing out ever.”
We sit there for a while. Processing. Planning. Loving each other despite—or maybe because of—how complicated everything is.
Finally, we head upstairs.
And for the first time since this whole thing started, I fall asleep in Holden’s arms.
Not in my room. Not pretending to be roommates.
In his bed. Together.
Where we belong.
END OF CHAPTER 11
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