Peter WHY...

The cab rolled to a stop on Ingram Street in Forest Hills, Queens, its tires crunching softly against the thin layer of snow that dusted the pavement. Liz Allan stepped out, the cold November air nipping at her cheeks as she handed the driver a few bills through the window. 

"Keep the change," she said, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest. The street was quiet, a row of modest houses glowing with warm light against the gray Thanksgiving evening. Bare trees lined the sidewalks, their branches strung with twinkling holiday lights that flickered like stars in the dimness. A faint scent of woodsmoke drifted from a nearby chimney, blending with the crisp bite of snow on the wind.

Liz pulled her jacket tighter, glancing at the house numbered 15—a cozy two-story home with a neatly shoveled walkway and a wreath on the door. This is it, she thought, fishing her phone from her purse. She dialed Peter, her fingers trembling slightly as the line rang. Come on, pick up.

"Hey, Liz!" Peter's voice came through, bright and familiar. "You here?"

"Yeah, I'm right in front of the house," she replied, her breath puffing out in a small cloud. "Just got out of the cab."

"Awesome, I'll be right out," he said, and the call ended with a click.

Liz shifted her weight, glancing up and down the street. The snow had thickened a little, leaving a powdery sheen on the parked cars and the low picket fences. A couple of kids down the block laughed as they tossed snowballs, their voices echoing faintly. 

It's so… normal here, she thought. Peter's world feels different from mine.

The front door swung open, and Peter stepped out, his jacket zipped over a sweater, his hair slightly mussed from the warmth inside. He grinned as he jogged down the steps, his breath visible in the cold. "Hey, you made it!" he said, stopping in front of her.

Liz smiled back, relief washing over her. "Yeah, thanks for inviting me, Peter. I'd be staring at a pizza box right now if it wasn't for you."

"No problem," he said, his eyes warm. "I'm glad you're here."

She hesitated, then let out a small laugh, her nerves bubbling up. "I've gotta admit, I'm a little scared to meet your family. It's my first time, and… I don't know, what if they think I'm weird or something?"

Peter's grin softened, and he reached out, gently holding her arms with both hands. "Hey, don't worry about it," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "They're gonna love you. Aunt May's the sweetest person ever, and Uncle Ben's just happy to have someone else to talk to besides me. You've got nothing to be scared of."

Liz nodded, feeling the tension ease under his touch. "Okay, if you say so. I trust you."

"Good," Peter said, then leaned in a little, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Oh, and they don't know you're coming—it's a surprise. Aunt May's been on my case forever to introduce my girlfriend, so this is gonna blow their minds."

Her eyes widened, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across her face. "Wait, seriously? You didn't tell them?"

"Nope," he said, grinning wider. "Figured it'd be more fun this way. She's always saying I should bring friends over, and now I'm bringing the best one. They'll be thrilled."

Liz laughed, shaking her head. "You're sneaky, Parker. Alright, I'm in—let's surprise them."

Peter let go of her arms, stepping back with a playful nod. "That's the spirit. Come on, let's get you out of the cold."

He led her up the shoveled walkway, the snow crunching under their boots, and pushed open the front door. The warmth of the house hit them immediately, carrying the rich aroma of turkey and spices from the kitchen. Liz took a deep breath, steadying herself as she followed Peter inside, the glow of Thanksgiving wrapping around her like a promise.