Page 65 of Not For Keeps
“Please, Mateo. Not today. Not right now.”
Mateo’s jaw ticks, and I see it—the flash of something behind his eyes. Frustration. Hurt. Maybe even disappointment. But he swallows it down like he always does, like he respects my boundaries even when they cut both of us open.
He nods once, slow and deliberate. “Okay,” he says softly. “Not today.”
The silence that follows is thick, but not angry. It’s laced with everything we aren’t saying. Everything we wish we couldsay. Everything I’m not ready to admit out loud. He steps back, just slightly. Just enough that I can breathe again.
Behind me, he clears his throat. “Do I at least get to know what color you’re wearing tomorrow?”
I let out a breath. “Red. Obviously.”
He lets out a low whistle. “You’re gonna shut the whole dinner down.”
“You better not wear green and make us look like a Christmas tree.”
“No promises,” he teases, voice lighter now.
A few hours have passed, and we’ve been working mostly in silence. Thankfully, we don’t talk about the moment we almost had. Maya’s in bed now, and the house is still.
I come out of her room, tiptoeing so I don’t wake her, and find Mateo on the couch, one arm draped across the backrest.
“You stayed,” I say, surprised.
He shrugs. “Didn’t want to leave yet.”
I should tell him to go. It’s late. We’ve said what we needed to say. But I don’t. I sit next to him, pulling a throw blanket over my legs. We sit in silence for a few minutes, the tree lights blinking in the corner, casting soft colors across the walls.
“I used to hate Christmas,” I admit, eyes still on the tree. “After Maya was born, it just…hurt. Nico wasn’t around. I felt like a failure. Everything felt heavy. But tonight, for the first time in a really long time, it feels like joy again.”
Mateo turns toward me. “I’m glad.”
“You did that.”
He blinks. “Me?”
“You. Being here. Helping. Laughing with Maya. You gave us something we didn’t know we were missing.”
He doesn’t speak right away. Then says, “You gave that to me, too.”
I turn to face him.
“I haven’t had a real Christmas in years. There are things in my past, things that have made me feel empty. But being here with you, with Maya, doing all the traditions—” He smiles, soft and reverent. “It’s the first time I’ve wanted this again.”
My throat tightens. “I’m scared,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
He shifts closer, brows furrowed. “Of what?”
“Of giving in. Of getting used to this. To you. And then feeling the same hurt I felt all those years ago.”
Mateo nods slowly. “That’s fair. But can I tell you something?”
I nod.
“I’m scared, too,” he says. “Because I’ve never wanted something to last so badly.”
The words hang between us.
“I think I need to go to bed,” I say, voice thin.
