Page 105 of Host for the Holidays
“Madame Fortin,” Madi says as she scours a casserole dish, her sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back in a scrunchie, “Iinsiston doing the dishes. I have never had such an amazing meal. I can’t imagine how much time you spent on it today. Why don’t you go relax with Rémy for a bit?”
My mom isn’t one to back down easily, but after a bit of coaxing from Madi and me, she gives in and makes her way to the couch. The way she drops down onto it speaks volumes about how tired she is. She’s getting older.
I watch Madi from the doorway for another few seconds, hyperaware of the way my chest feels almost painful at the sight of her. And it hits me right there and then: I’m in love with her. After ten days of knowing her. It’s insane. But it’s also true.
When we start our walk to the nearest train station half an hour later, it’s cold and quiet outside. No more silverware and dishes clanging, no more convivial conversation. Just me, Madi, and the street lamps and Christmas lights.
I feel . . . strange. Nervous, maybe. After acknowledging to myself that I’m in love with Madi, I face a conundrum. Now more than ever I want her close, to hold her hand. But now more than ever, the thought that she’s not in the same place as I am, that she might neverbein that same place—it’s scary.
“We didn’t really get to finish our conversation from earlier,” I say. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head, but she grabs my hand and looks up at me with a soft smile.
You’d think I’d just dropped out of an airplane for the way my heart responds to that combination of gestures.
“Let’s just enjoy Christmas,” she says.
I hold her hand tighter and nod.
* * *
It’s notthe most comfortable Christmas Eve I’ve spent, sleeping on the couch next to Madi after midnight mass, but it’s the best one I can remember.
It feels slightly shifty of me, though. This—waking up next to Madi—is what I want more and more, and the fact that she doesn’t know just how fast or hard I’ve fallen for her makes it almost feel like I’m taking something that’s not rightfully mine.
But what’s new? I’ve been ahead of Madi in my attraction to her and my feelings for her since the beginning, so I guess this is just who I am now.
Madi has her photoshoot today, and I’ll attend mass with my mom. Knowing I won’t be with her for those hours makes me impatient for her to wake up. But since attending midnight mass kept us up until 1:30, I resist waking her.
It’s past nine o’clock when she starts to stir. It’s normal for her to be this exhausted. Listening to a foreign language for hours on end is the mental equivalent of running a marathon.
Madi shifts, her head turning from side to side as her lids start to flutter. I hold my breath, waiting for the moment she realizes she’s next to me. She stills, her eyes suddenly growing alert as she looks up at me.
And then she smiles sleepily and snuggles her face into my chest. I wish I could bottle this feeling and sell it to myself for the rest of my life. It gives me some hope that maybe she can feel for me what I feel for her.
“What are you doing?” I ask as she burrows even further into me.
“I’ve got morning breath,” comes her muffled response.
I chuckle. “Me too.” I try to sit up.
“Where are you going?”
“To get us some gum.”
“Not yet.” She pulls me back down and puts her head back in the hollow of my chest. “Christmas morning snuggles take precedence over good breath. I’ll just keep my head like this.”
I relax back down and wrap my arms around her, content to lay like this all day. I can’t think of a way I’d rather spend Christmas morning.
It’s a slow day—a leisurely breakfast followed by watchingIt’s a Wonderful Life. Madi gets a Merry Christmas text from Josh (eye roll), and because the movie has me feeling very charitable and Christmassy, I urge her to throw him a bone and wish him a Merry Christmas too.
Way too soon, both of us are getting ready for our separate Christmas Day activities. I come out of my room, adjusting the collar above my sweater. “Are you sure you don’t want to come to mass with my mom and me?”
Madi’s got her gear laid out on the table and is changing out SD cards in her camera. “I mean, of course I’d love to. But I think it’s best if I don’t. That way, you can have some good mother-son time. Plus, it won’t really work with the photoshoot, and I would hate to let Ashleigh Jo down by canceling. Especially on Christmas. Also, I need the money.” She rubs her thumb against her fingers and wags her eyebrows.
“That hand gesture means something else here, you know.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh my gosh. Is it crude? Super offensive?”
