Hal had been grateful for the invite, though he would never confess to the tinge of loneliness that had plagued him as Thanksgiving day came closer. Family, togetherness, none of that had been a huge part of his life since his father had died all those years ago. The family had disconnected and then, when he deliberately disobeyed his mother's orders, he had been scratched off the family tree. His brothers were still there and sometimes they even kept in contact, sending the occasional photo of their happy little families, never daring to ask what was going on in his life. They disapproved of his lifestyle, but a small part of him wondered if they would be more understanding if only the knew.
Today, however, none of that mattered. He was about to enjoy a meal with a group of people who were no strangers to his plight. Loath as the was to admit it, these people were his family. Even Guy. And Kyle. Hal walked up to the front door of the brownstone, bundled tightly in a black peacoat and rang the doorbell. Leather gloves were wrapped tight around a bag that contained both a nice bottle of wine and a fresh bottle of scotch to carry them all through the day.