Page 40 of Jingle Bell Jilt
“Oh, come on. I want to see it.” Both Keaton and Lowell are whining.
“Fine,” I grunt out. I stand up and pull the sweater down so they can read it. They both let out a howl of laughter. “Dude. That is the best ugly sweater ever! Where did you get it?” Keaton wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.
“A friend and I had a contest to see who could buy the other person the ugliest sweater.”
“I guess they won.” Lowell snorts.
“Yeah, you can say that.” I sit down hard on the couch, not wanting to hear any more about the sweater.
“I hope you didn’t wager too much.” My dad asks.
I nod, already ready for this call to be over. “The winner gets the cookie or brownie of their choice, made by the loser.”
My dad nods. “No one really loses then. Smart wager.”
I look down at my sweater. Is there really no loser? I beg to differ.
The timer on the oven starts buzzing. I hear Shay’s door open, and she calls down the stairs, but not before I’ve had a chance to mute the call. “Evan, can you check on the popovers?”
“Just a second, guys,” I mute them and call back. “What am I looking for?”
“Just make sure the middles are set. The edges should be browned.”
I carry my computer over to the kitchen and grab a hot pad as I pull out the muffin tin. I set it on the stovetop and head back to the couch.
I’ve barely settled in again when Keaton leans forward, his face growing large in his box. “Did I just hear a female voice? Evan, are you spending Christmas with a girl? Is that why you couldn’t be here this year?”
I close my eyes. Why did I not just take my laptop out onto the patio?
Shay had not wanted to tell her parents about me, and I understand how she feels. Although, probably for completely different reasons. I unmute. “No, that’s not why I’m not there for Christmas. I told you that John is on paternity leave.”
“Then what’s up with the girl?” Lowell prods.
“It’s complicated,” I hedge.
Both Lowell and Keaton settle back into the chairs and fold their arms. “We’ve got time,” Lowell says.
“Boys, this is Evan’s business, not yours.” My father’s words may say that, but he has also settled back and seems to be waiting for an explanation.
I scrub my hands over my face. “She was staying in the townhouse next door. But the first night she was here, the washing machine hose ruptured and flooded the whole place. Because of the holidays, there were no other rooms available. So I said she could stay in one of my spare rooms.”
Shay is standing at the bottom of the stairs, peering around like she doesn’t know where to go. I wave her in. She shouldn’t have to be locked in her room just because my family decided to call. I’m wishing I had grabbed my earbuds.
“Dude, you invited a stranger to stay in your house with you? What if she’s some psycho serial killer?” Lowell has the most serious look on his face that I can’t help but grin. And when I glance over to Shay, she’s resting her elbow on the counter with her chin in her palm. She’s watching me, a smile on her face and her lips twitching.
“She isn’t a stranger really.” I really do not want to explain all this now. Those popover things are surely getting cold.
“Then you knew her before?” My dad asks. He doesn’t say a lot, but when he does, it usually means something. But I’m not sure what this means.
“Well, we’d never met in person before that night. But I feel like I’ve known her for years.” That’s not a lie. And I’m tempted to glance at Shay and check her reaction. I don’t think I’ve thought of her as a stranger since we left the dollar store yesterday.
“Then you’ve had an online relationship?” My dad asks. Why can they not just let this go?
How do I want to answer this? In a sense, we did have an online relationship before she came. I emailed her a few times with information about the house. And she replied. That technically is a relationship. But not the kind my family is thinking of. Do I fess up to the truth? “Not really,” I say on a sigh.
“So, what you’re saying,” Keaton moves close to the screen again, “is that you had never met or spoken to this girl before she arrived at your rental two days ago?”
I rub a hand along the back of my neck. “We’d emailed a few times.”
