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“Let me get this straight,” Gemma says, sitting cross-legged on Alex’s bed. Alex is packing neatly for D.C. and New York and utterly randomly for staying with Paul over Thanksgiving because one is work and one isn’t. “You’re spending Thanksgiving with the guy you’re convinced is going to dump you the second you leave town —”
“It’s orphans’ Thanksgiving; if we’re actually dating he hasn’t said so; and maybe, just maybe, I’m wrong about everything and we can all die happy.”
“There’s no need to be snippy,” Gemma tells him. “Next, you’re going on location for two months, but when you get back you’ll hopefully sign some papers and then we’ll own a house?”
Alex side-eyes her, even though he knows she’s trying to provoke him. “Apart from the fact that I will own the house and you will be p
