Shameless Thanksgiving Monica Novels & Stories

The thrill of our shared victory feels like the sweetest reward. “You’re such a devil, Gina,” Monica says, her voice full of admiration. “Yes,” I reply gleefully. “And the best part is yet to come.” She raises an eyebrow. “I know a strip club we can go to, but let’s save that for another time. I’ve got things to handle right now.” Her sudden hesitation catches me off guard. Monica never turns down a chance to celebrate. Something feels off. “Something serious?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

he instructed as he changed into a pair of house slippers. On any other day, I would've instantly made my way toward the kitchen and cooked for him. This time, however, I only responded emotionlessly, "I'm already done with my lunch. You can go ahead and order something in." Zeke shot me a dissatisfied glance. Then, he suppressed his anger and said, "I know you're still mad about Thanksgiving, but I'm actually starving. Now's not the time for you to be kicking up a fuss." I turned around and smiled at him. "I'm not mad."

"Yes, ma'am. Before his trip." Cold slipped through her chest, but only briefly. Then she nodded. “Alright. Leave them." She continued round the dining table, inspecting the centerpieces and silverware arranged according to how many people who usually came for the Thanksgiving dinner. “How's the broth coming?" She asked, stepping into the kitchen. The head chef smiled, still stirring the pot. "Wonderful, ma'am. You'll all like it.” Excitement flickered on Solène's face. Three years of marriage, and Thanksgiving with Lewis's family had become tradition—sacred even. And tonight, her announcement was going to change a lot.

Monica is the one breaking the silence as she stares at my mother, offering her a small smile. “You’re missed there,” my mother says politely, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at Monica. No one is missing her, from what I have heard; everyone pities her, but no one is really missing her, as everyone thought she was a bitch. She is one of the most hated women in New York City. “You’re too kind,” Monica says, and my mother smiles at her. “This salad is stunning, Ophelia,” my mother says, and Ophelia smiles, and as she is about to reply to my mother, Monica interrupts.

They couldn't believe the daughter they were so proud of would do something so… filthy and immoral. George was shaking in rage. He stepped ahead, trying to confront Zack, but he shoved George into the shoe cabinet. "Ms. Sampson's villa doesn't let homeless people in. I can't believe you're her father-in-law. Look at you. Even a homeless guy wears better than you." Zack scoffed. Mockery was oozing from his tone. George was groaning in pain, and color was draining from his face. I held him and called the maid to help us out. This was an emergency.

Anthony asked, grabbing my hand. I replied, "Follow me to the supermarket to buy some ingredients. We're making roast turkey today." The annual Thanksgiving holiday had arrived again. However, I was not alone this year, since I had an adorable son. What happened to Mindy had nothing to do with me anymore, and I no longer cared.

"When I learned of our child, fear and pride dictated my actions. I'm behind the shadows that plagued you, the threats, the near-fatal encounters. I'm consumed by guilt and regret." The collective gasp of the congregation was palpable. As Asa processed this revelation, trying to reconcile with the Biden she once knew, Andrei, his face red with rage, took a step forward. Just as Asa opened her mouth, hoping to bring some semblance of peace, Andrei's voice, laden with fury and pain, filled the sacred space, addressing Biden's shocking confession.

I said as I looked over at Lucas mockingly l. “See he always makes sure I’m fed even when I would rather starve than eat.” I sang as I looked back at the food. I forced a huge smile on my face as I grabbed a small piece of sushi. Without paying anyone any mind I put the sushi into my mouth and smiled as I chewed it. I could only hold in the moan of satisfaction as all the flavors hit me at once. A loud bang had me furrowed my brows. “I’m so sick of having to hold my tongue for someone as ungrateful as you.” Monica exclaimed loudly. I slowly glanced over at her and took in the fury in her eyes.

Dad asks when we're all sitted in the living room. I stand to my feet. "We are going to Host thanksgiving the traditional Hilton way." "The traditional way." Micah laughs. "You think you can cook all that food yourself?" "I'm calling Monique, I'm calling Naomi." "Who's Naomi?" Micah asks. "Mr Dawson's wife. She's my substitute at college. We bonded once, I don't even know why she came to mind." I laugh, but really thanksgiving is more than the food. It's the feeling of being together. Mom as the regular host usually invites the church, college, community.