Page 153 of The Nightmare Before Kissmas
Kris, at the back of the room, cups his hands over his mouth and whoops. Someone else does too—Iris. And behind her, the door is open, the hall, what little of it I can see, packed with reporters. Wren, softly smiling. And members of our court.
A clap starts. It grows, rises to applause of agreement.
Dad, though, is oblivious to them, to the chaos of reporters pushing into the room and throwing themselves at the winter Holiday representatives. He hasn’t moved at all.
Even with the winter reps waiting, with the noble House members pushing forward, set on me, I take a step closer to my father.
The part of me that used to be afraid of him just misses him now, I think. Misses what he used to be. Misses what he could have become.
Kris swims through the chaos and pulls up alongside me, Iris in tow, her pink tulle ballgown dragging the floor.
Dad finally looks at me. He’s pale.
Of all the things I expect him to say, I’m not at all prepared for, “I would not have hit you or your brother.”
I exhale in a rush, but he shakes his head.
“You believed I would, though,” he continues. “You believed I had become someone who would do that.”
“I believed—” I stop. Lungs aching. “I believed grief had changed you. And I didn’t know the extent of those changes. But I also know that it doesn’t have to be only negative changes. We can make something good out of this too.”
Joy can come from grief. From pain. From fear.
That’s what I’m choosing.
“Your original idea wasn’t all bad,” I say. “Every corner of the world deserves joy. Christmas can be a part of that. Just not theonlypart of that. And this way, it allows us to focus on aspects that will resonate in the people who celebrate Christmas. You said you’re doing this for us, for me and Kris. This is what we want. This is our future.”
Dad’s eyelids flutter, attention dipping between Kris and me. He scratches at his beard, and I see a myriad of thoughts rolling through his mind, but I can’t guess at any of them.
Then he walks around us and leaves the room.
Which is okay, honestly. I don’t want his immediate responses. This amount of change doesn’t come easily.
But we’re bringing it. Even if it hurts.
Chapter Twenty-One
This sitting room is stuffed with people and conversation and no one else notices Dad’s departure.
In his wake, I turn to Iris and take her hand. Mine is trembling, the aftereffects making it so my lips shake a little too when I smile.
“Iris, I love you. Will you do me the honor of not marrying me, today, or ever?”
She grins. “Coal. I love you too. And from this day forth, I promise to never marry you.”
I grab her up in a hug.
Over her shoulder, I see her father at the edge of the room, looking stricken and confused.
“I’ll talk to your dad with you,” I say. “We’ll make this work for Easter too.”
She squeezes me, hard. “Later, Coal.” Another hug, softer, her head resting against my temple. “But thank you.”
I set her down. “How do you want to announce that the wedding is off? I’ll take credit. Or blame. Whatever you think will best appease any rumors of—”
She smiles. It should be happier than it is, should be relieved; but beneath it, there’s apprehension still, exhaustion that never seems to really let her go.
Iris turns to a nearby staff member and whispers quickly to them. They go momentarily stunned, then announce to the room, “The wedding is… off. But you are invited to partake in the Christmas Eve Ball.”
