Page 32 of Take Me Home for Christmas

She was pacing the kitchen floor in front of me, tapping her upper lip in thought. “You should go,” she said. “To Charlie’sparty. Everyone goes. You shouldn’t let Charlie stop you from seeing people.”

“What? No. Not going.” Charlie and Erin had written me a note with the invitation, asking me to come. I’d burned it in the flame of my White Barn Tranquility candle. “I’m over what happened,” I said. “I wish them a happy life, but I’m not doing it in person.”

What I did feel bad about was that ever since the breakup, I’d been avoiding my old friends, avoiding going places where I might run into them. It was like I wore a cloak of shame, which made no sense.

Dina took a sip of wine and kept pacing. “Well then, there’s only one thing to do.”

I looked up at her, not expecting a solution, but suddenly hoping she had one. “What’s that?”

“We get to Brax first.” She placed her hands on the table and leaned in. “Youshould be the one to tell him, not Liam or Caleb.”

I checked my watch. My brothers were probably cozied up by the fire, plying Brax with liquor as we spoke. “I lost my chance to do that.”

She shook her head. “Not if we show up with sleds.”

The sleds.Of course. The perfect diversion. I stood up and hugged her. “You’re a genius.”

“If I was a genius, I’d tell you how to fix this mess. But we can start with something simple, right?”

As Dina ran off to tend to Emma, I felt a huge relief. Like I wasn’t alone. And that somehow, I might be able to navigate through all this chaos I’d created.

Plus, it was a fantastic night for sledding down our giant hill and then flying clear through the pasture, like I’d done as a kid a million moonlit nights before. When you were sailing through the icy cold air on a sled, you didn’t think about anything. You just closed your eyes, hung on for dear life, and enjoyed everywild, fleeting, free moment. And prayed that you survived the ride.

While I was waiting for Dina, I found my mom in the family room, sitting back in the recliner she’d sequestered from my dad, her feet propped up near the blazing fire.

I handed her one of two mugs of tea I’d brought in from the kitchen, tossed my grandma’s colorful crocheted afghan over her legs, and took a seat on the couch. Cooper hopped up and snuggled in right beside me. Within seconds, he went belly-up, begging to be rubbed, his favorite thing in the world. Of course, I complied.

“You did too much.” I waved my hands around the room. “Making everything look so Christmasy, making all our favorites for dinner.” I made a note to cook dinner tomorrow, regardless of how awful the consequences were. She flashed me a smile that I read asYou silly girl, don’t you get it?I’ve always been able to read my mom, probably because we are alike in many ways. We’re attuned to others’ feelings and emotions, we’re do-gooders when we can be, and we tended to wear our hearts on our sleeves. Except she can’t—or won’t—fake what she’s feeling.

Well, with that last one, she was far braver than me.

“Okay, okay,” I said.

“Don’t treat me like I’m too weak to do what I want,” she said in a firm tone. “You know I love this more than anything—having you kids home, watching you finally find happiness.”

Guilt hit me again, oozing its way around my stomach like thick green slime. I knew how badly she wanted my happiness. She’d mentioned it frequently in our conversations, often before her own health.

That said more about my mother than anything else. She was selfless. More concerned about others than herself.

“It’s wonderful to be home.” And to have her with us, God willing, for many more Christmases to come.

My mom looked at me, her eyes a little watery, her expression earnest. “Mia, I think Brax is wonderful. Every time he looks at you, your whole face lights up.”

I felt my cheeks blaze, the curse of the pale complected. Sadly, I knew she was right. When I caught Brax glancing my way, it was like lighting a match. Heat skyrocketed uncontrollably through me, head to toes. But it was just the same unholy attraction I’d gotten used to fighting from the start.

I wished everyone would stop telling me how in love I looked when I was doing everything possible to protect my heart. Next time our eyes met, I swore I would frown deeply, even scowl. I’d glower and toss daggers at him with my eyes. Then we’d see if anything could break through that force field.

My mom blew on her tea, cradling it in her hands. “I’ve always said that there’s not much to a relationship without chemistry.” She tapped her teacup thoughtfully. “Anyone can see that you two have it in spades. You seem well matched.”

Well matched. Chemistry in spades.Creepily, I pondered again how easily my mother had bought my lies. Clearly, I’d added a darker bent to my personality since that time when I was ten and couldn’t sleep until I’d confessed to being the one who’d pillaged every last crispy chocolate egg from my siblings’ Easter baskets.

She took a sip of tea. “Are you and Brax going to Charlie and Erin’s party?”

The question was as loaded as our twelve-foot Christmas tree, every possible branch and bough weighted with some storied ornament from our pasts, yet the expression on mymom’s face was as placid as if she’d just inquired about the weather.

“No, Mother.” I hadn’t used that tone—or called herMother—since I was eighteen and she made me return the dress I’d bought for prom because she said it looked less substantial than a ’40’s pinup girl’s bathing suit.

She laughed. “You haven’t gotten irritated with me since I got sick. It feels sort of good.”

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