Page 130 of Faking All the Way
“You’re sure your grandmother won’t mind that I invited my dad?” I ask as we drive through the snowy streets. The roads are getting slick, and I’m driving carefully. “I know it’s kind of last minute. I probably should have asked first.”
Kat grins at me, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “Have youmetmy grandmother? Her philosophy has always been the more the merrier.” She pauses, then adds more softly, “Especially when it comes to family.”
That word lands right in my heart, burrowing deep.Family. She’s not just talking about her family anymore. She’s talking about my dad like he’s already part of her family too. Like she wants to combine our lives like that, blend everything together into something bigger than just the two of us.
And I really fucking like that.
In the aftermath of finding out the truth about my parents’ history, about my mom’s affairs and the custody battle and all the lies I believed for so many years, my relationship with my father has shifted. We still don’t have the close bond of a father and son who’ve been in each other’s lives consistently. There are still awkward moments, still conversations we don’t know how to have yet.
But now instead of keeping each other at arm’s length, protecting ourselves from more hurt, our focus has shifted to making up for lost time. I want to have a relationship with him. Want to have my dad as part of my life going forward, not just someone I see once a year out of obligation.
We pull up to the big Victorian house, lights glowing warm in every window. There are already several cars parked along the street, her family’s vehicles that I’m starting to recognize.
Before we head inside, I mention, trying to sound casual, “There’s another surprise waiting for you in there.”
Kat’s brows lift, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. “What kind of surprise?”
“Can’t tell you or it won’t be a surprise,” I say with a grin.
She laughs at that, rolling her eyes at me affectionately. “Fine. But you should know that I’ve never been known for my patience.”
We get out of the car, grabbing the container of cookies from the back seat—the ones that I’m proud to say are slightly too brown around the edges. Kat’s already laughing about how we’re going to have to explain why they’re overdone, although we’re definitely not telling her family what we were doing while they were in the oven.
We knock on the door, and I can tell that Kat is buzzing with curiosity about the surprise from the way she keeps darting glances my way. My heart pounds a little, hoping like hell that she’ll like what I managed to pull together. It took a lot of phone calls and a stupid amount of money, but if it makes her this happy, it’ll be worth every penny.
Her grandmother opens the door, her face lighting up when she sees us. “There you are! Come in, come in! Merry Christmas!”
She hugs Kat first, then she pulls me into one too, something I’m still getting used to—being welcomed effusively by family like this.
“Merry Christmas,” I tell her.
She ushers us inside, and the warmth and noise of family wrap around us immediately. Voices talking over each other, Christmas music playing softly in the background, the smell of food and pine and cinnamon.
The rest of her family is already there, spread throughout the house. Her parents greet us from the kitchen where they’re doing something with drinks and appetizers, and Josephine and Mike wave from where they’re on the floor playing some elaborate game with the kids.
Kat takes three steps into the living room, still holding the container of cookies, and freezes. Her hand flies to her mouth as she stares at the couch, her eyes going wide.
Sitting there, grinning broadly, is Samantha. Her best friend. The one who’s supposed to be in Antarctica right now,thousands of miles away, documenting climate change and penguin colonies.
“Samantha?” Kat whispers, like she can barely believe what she’s seeing.
Sam stands up, her smile getting even bigger as she opens her arms. “Hi, Kat!”
Kat makes this sound, half laugh and half sob, and launches herself across the room. Hugging her fiercely, both of them holding on tight. The reunion is loud and emotional, both of them crying and talking over each other. I can’t make out all the words, just fragments. “Oh my god” and “you’re here” and “I missed you” all tumbling out at once.
I just watch Kat’s face, taking in the disbelief and joy written all over it, so clear that everyone in the room can see it.
When their hug finally breaks, Kat gapes at her friend, still looking a bit confused. “How is this possible? How did you manage it?” She shakes her head with wonder. “It must’ve taken so much work to get back here for Christmas.”
Samantha grins, looking pointedly over at me. “Ask him. He arranged it all.”
Kat turns to look at me, and I smile. My pulse races, nervous about her reaction even though I can see she’s happy. “Surprise.”
She stares at me with wide eyes for a moment, as if finally putting together the fact that this is the surprise I mentioned earlier. Then she walks quickly across the room, wraps her arms around me, and kisses me. Right there in front of everyone, like she doesn’t care at all who’s watching.
I kiss her back, not caring either. My hands come up to hold her, one at her waist and one cradling the back of her head.
When we break apart, she whispers, “I can’t believe you brought my best friend home for Christmas.”
