Page 88 of Faking All the Way
“They look great. Art doesn’t have to be perfect, remember?”
He brightens at that, going back to his project.
Josephine appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Hey! Perfect timing. Grandma and I are just finishing up the last batch of Christmas cookies.”
Dad mutes the TV to greet Asher with a firm handshake, and Mike appears from down the hall and immediately makes a beeline in their direction, waving in greeting. I give Asher a look, checking to make sure he’ll be okay if I leave him chatting with the two of them. He catches my eye and smiles, nodding slightly, so I let myself get tugged toward the kitchen by Josephine.
“God, I think Dad’s favorite gift this year is the fact that you brought Asher,” my sister says quietly as we walk away, gesturing back toward where the three of them are already deep in conversation. “He hasn’t been this excited about anything in months.”
In the kitchen, my grandmother is arranging cookies on a festive platter with the kind of precision that makes each one look like it belongs in a magazine. She glances up when we enter, her face breaking into the warm smile that’s been a constant in my life for as long as I can remember.
“There’s my favorite artist,” she says, setting down a cookie to pull me into a hug. She draws back, looking me over with a sharp gaze. “You look good, sweetheart. Really good.”
Josephine nods in agreement, pausing in her cookie plating to eye my outfit. “I was going to say the same thing. I love what you’re wearing tonight.”
I look down at myself, flustered by the sudden attention. I’m wearing my favorite dark jeans and a fitted sweater in deep emerald green that brings out my eyes. The color is bold, the cut is form-fitting, and a few weeks ago, I probably would’ve been too self-conscious to wear something like this. But tonight, I put it on without even thinking about it.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling heat creep into my cheeks. “It’s just something I grabbed.”
“Well, it looks great on you.” Grandma goes back to her cookies, but I can still feel her attention on me. “You seem different lately. Happier.”
Josephine and my grandmother share a look, something passing between them as they share a small smile.
“What?” I ask, suddenly wary.
They both wave airily as Josephine transfers cookies to another platter. “Nothing,” she says. “It’s just that being in love looks good on you.”
My heart skips, then starts beating double-time. “I’m not… we aren’t…”
The words tangle in my throat because I have no earthly idea how to finish that sentence.
My grandmother reaches over and pats my hand. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to explain anything. We all really like him. He’s definitely passed the family test with flying colors.”
“Passed it with extra credit,” Josephine adds with a grin. “I swear, Dad hasn’t stopped talking about him since you two left last time.”
My stomach swoops at the realization that they think I’m in love with Asher. That they’ve all discussed it, formed opinions, accepted it as fact.
But maybe that just means our lie has worked really well. That’s all. We’ve been convincing.
I tell myself that’s the only reason my heart is racing right now.
“Um…” I cast around, desperate to change the subject. “Should we bring these cookies out?”
“Good idea.” My grandmother hands me a platter, letting the subject drop.
We carry everything out to the living room where the kids immediately abandon their art project in favor of sugar. Dinner is casual and energetic in the best way, everyone talking over each other and passing dishes around the table. Asher fits right in, answering questions about hockey and asking his own about Josephine’s nursing job and Mike’s latest construction project. He laughs at my dad’s terrible jokes, teases Oscar for eating five rolls, and compliments my mom’s cooking.
It’s so natural. So easy.
As we’re finishing dessert, Oscar starts complaining about how Christmas feels impossibly far away.
“It’s only two more weeks,” Megan points out with the superiority of being older.
“That’s forever!” Oscar slumps dramatically.
The adults laugh, and my mom comments that the days seem to speed up once you’re grown. How December always flies by with too many things to do.
“It really does go fast,” I agree, unconsciously glancing at Asher.
