Page 35 of The Grumpiest Elf

Mom sends me a narrow-eyed look, though she’s smiling. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Laughing, I head down the hall to my room. “Okay.”

* * *

The shower gives me time alone to straighten out my own thoughts, plus the warm water soaks into my bones, combatting the chill that seemed to settle there once we got up and moving this morning.

Memories of Dylan’s kisses have me smiling, my hands trailing over my body, dipping between my legs briefly, imagining how hard he felt pressed against me. But I shake myself out of that. There’s not time now, with Mom waiting with coffee and breakfast—nearly brunch since it’s after ten. This’ll have to hold me through work, though I’ll be sure to bring a snack for the midafternoon break.

And then … I’ll have dinner with Dylan. That has me smiling wider, planning out what I want to wear today so I have something cute to change into after work. He said he’ll pick me up at ChristmasFest, so I need to have it ready.

For now, I put on a pair of lounge pants, a thermal tee, the oversized cardigan I wear at home when I’m cold, and my big, fuzzy slipper socks. Suitably warm and cozy, I make my way out to the kitchen, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

Mom sets a mug of coffee and a plate of French toast stacked three high in front of me, then hands me the container of maple syrup. “Alright. I’ve been as patient as I can,” she says as she dredges a piece of bread in the egg mixture and places it in the skillet. “Give me all the details.” Straightening, she holds up one hand. “Well, maybe notallthe details.”

Laughing, I pour syrup over my stack of French toast and cut my first bite. “We … came to an understanding.”

Her eyebrows climb her forehead. “What kind of understanding?”

While my cheeks are hot and I’m sure a fiery red, I meet my mom’s eyes. “The kind where he kissed me and we’re going to dinner tonight.”

Mom lets out a combination laugh and whoop. “Okay. This is good. But how?”

I back up and tell her how he’s been making an effort to be nicer all week and how good he was with the kids last night, and talking it through helps me untangle all my feelings even more, boiling it all down to an odd mix of elation and concern.

Setting my fork down, I rub my hands on my thighs. “I like him, Mom.” I sound almost plaintive. “At least, I like the version of him he’s been the last little while. And maybe that’s a more accurate version of him, or maybe knowing his grumpiness wasn’t really anything to do with me makes it different.”

“But?” Mom prompts, sitting next to me with her own pile of French toast and mug of coffee.

I sigh. “But there are a couple of things I’m worried about.” Planting my elbow on the counter, I hold up a finger. “What if he really is an asshole? Or he’s the type who swings wildly from one extreme to the other?” I shake my head. “I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Mom nods, chewing thoughtfully. “And the other thing?”

Shrugging, I pick up my fork again and cut another bite. “I’m not sure it matters that much. He’ll be going back to school in a few weeks.”

Mom studies me a moment. “Where does he go to school?”

“Somewhere in Seattle. I think maybe UW? He only has one semester left, then he’ll be doing an architecture internship for the next few years.” He told me about his current job and how he’s basically guaranteed the paid internship after he graduates, and it’s clear he’s excited about his future. I’m excited for him, but it also just makes my lack of direction stand out in high relief.

Nodding, Mom purses her lips and hums.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand with narrowed eyes.

She shakes her head. “Nothing at all, sweetie. What are you planning on doing once ChristmasFest is over?”

I blow out a breath. “Start looking for another job.”

She nods. “Well, it seems like whatever problems there might be with Dylan will take care of themselves. And there’s nothing wrong with having fun with a boy for a few weeks while you’re both in town.” She bumps me with her shoulder, her eyes lighting up with her smile. “You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. And trust me, I know people always say life is short, and they’re not wrong, but life is also long. You have plenty of time to figure out what you want and find someone to share it with. Or not. Marrying young isn’t necessarily a wise choice.”

My heart lurches, because I know she’s speaking from experience. Mom was only twenty-one when they married, and she didn’t even graduate college. She put her dreams on hold to follow my dad. He’d graduated and then they’d gotten married in the same month, and they’d moved to Seattle for him to go to law school. She’d worked and they’d scraped by until he’d passed the bar and started working at a big corporate law office. Then they had Brooke and me, and Mom was a mom. She eventually completed her degree, but not until I was in high school.

Obviously at one point she thought marrying Dad was what she wanted. Where did it all go wrong?

She lets out a sigh and bumps me with her shoulder again. “Don’t mind my dire warnings,” she says. “Follow your heart, and do what makes you happy. I’ll always be here to be your safety net, okay?”

Leaning into her, I give her a hug. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

She kisses the top of my head. “I love you, too, baby girl.”

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