Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. Growing up, my mom made it a grand affair every year, with the house full of extended family, the smell of roasted turkey wafting through the air, and an overwhelming abundance of pumpkin pies. When I married Megan, I knew I wanted to carry on that tradition. For the past seven years, Megan and I have hosted Thanksgiving at our home. It’s a lot of work, but it’s always worth it—the chaos filled with warmth and love.
This year, we decided to keep it simple, just the three of us: Megan, me, and our six-year-old son, Leo. Life had been stressful lately, with work deadlines piling up and all the responsibilities of raising a child. I hadn’t been home as much as I’d like, trying to secure a promotion that would help our finances. A quiet Thanksgiving felt like the perfect opportunity to reconnect.
As we prepared for the holiday, Megan busied herself with the cooking while I kept Leo entertained. Everything seemed normal until a seemingly innocent question from Leo sent a jolt through my chest.
“Can we save a seat for the man who always brings Mommy flowers?” he asked brightly, looking up from his toys.
I froze, almost dropping the chair I was holding. Megan, standing with a stack of plates, stiffened. The look on her face wasn’t one of confusion but alarm.
“What man, buddy?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
“The one who gives Mommy flowers when you’re at work,” Leo replied matter-of-factly. “I saw him last time! He had pink roses, and Mommy said they were her favorite.”
I glanced at Megan, expecting her to laugh it off, but she looked like she’d been caught. Her stammered denial only added to my suspicion.
“Leo, you must be imagining things,” she said, avoiding my gaze. “No one brings Mommy flowers.”
But Leo insisted, his details too precise to be a mere figment of his imagination. Megan’s reaction wasn’t helping. That night, after Leo went to bed, I confronted her.
“Megan, is there something I should know?” I asked.
She hesitated, then brushed it off, claiming Leo must have misunderstood something he’d seen on TV. But her defensiveness only deepened my doubts. For the next few days, I couldn’t shake the unease. Was Megan hiding something from me? Had I been so consumed with work that I’d missed something important in our relationship?
Thanksgiving morning arrived, and Megan threw herself into cooking while I set the table. Just as we were about to sit down, the doorbell rang. Before I could react, Leo jumped up.
“It’s him! The man with the flowers!” he exclaimed, running to the door.
My heart pounded as I intercepted Leo and opened the door myself. Standing there was a man in his late forties, holding a bouquet. His shirt bore the logo of a local flower shop.
“Uh, hi,” he said awkwardly. “I’m sorry to interrupt. This was a special last-minute order.”
I turned to Megan, whose face had gone pale. “Care to explain?” I asked.
Megan sighed, ushering the delivery man inside. After he left, she sat me down and finally confessed.
“I’ve been making flower arrangements,” she admitted. “For extra money. That’s it. I swear, Tom, there’s no other man.”
She explained how she’d started a small side hustle months ago, creating bouquets for a local shop to help with our finances. She hadn’t told me because she didn’t want to burden me, knowing I was already stressed about work.
“I wanted to contribute without adding to your worries,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”
Relief washed over me. All the suspicion and doubt evaporated as I realized her intentions were pure. But I couldn’t let her think she had to do this alone.
“Megan, you don’t have to keep secrets like this,” I said, taking her hands in mine. “We’re a team. If you want to keep doing this because it makes you happy, I’m all for it. But don’t shut me out next time.”
She smiled through her tears and hugged me tightly. “Thank you, Tom.”
Just then, Leo wandered in, clutching his stuffed dinosaur. “Mommy, are you crying?”
“No, sweetheart,” she said, pulling him into her arms. “Mommy’s okay.”
“Are you going to make me flowers too?” Leo asked. “I want to give them to Grandma!”
We laughed, the tension of the past few days finally lifting. As we sat down to Thanksgiving dinner, surrounded by love and honesty, I realized this was what the holiday was truly about—family, connection, and being there for each other, no matter what.
