Page 82 of Snowed In
“You’re getting there,” she says. “I have to check the nut roast.”
I make a face. “When have we ever had a nut roast?”
“It’s a practice one for—” She breaks off abruptly, glancing at Megan, who looks predictably embarrassed.
“You don’t have to go to any trouble for me.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” she says. “What are you going to do? Eat a plate of parsnips all night?”
I scoff. “We have a million side dishes she can—”
“And now she’ll have a main too,” Mam says firmly. “We can all have some,” she adds though we both know it will be a cold day in hell if Dad ever eats a bit of a nut roast for his Christmas dinner.
“Sorry,” I murmur when she leaves the room. “I know it’s the most clichéd vegetarian dish in existence.”
“It’s kind of her,” Megan says.
“I told you she liked you. Almost as much as my dad, by the looks of things.” I meant it as a compliment, but her smile dims.
“What?”
“I just didn’t think they’d be so nice.”
“Did I make them sound that terrifying?”
“No. but…Doesn’t it make you feel bad about what we’re doing?” she asks. “Lying to them about us?”
“The whole point of this is that they like you.”
“I know, I know, I just…What’s it going to be like for them when we break up?”
I pause at that. “Breaking up is weeks away.”
“Yeah, like one,” she jokes, and my mood dips. Can’t we just focus on the now?
“Let me worry about my parents. But if you want me to be less charming to your mother, I’m going to need one to two business days. I can’t just turn it off that easily.” The words are teasing, but my skin feels tight, and I pull her to her feet, restless. “How’s your spine?”
“What do you— Christian!” My name is said on a laugh as I dip her to the floor. “All about that back bend,” I say, bringing her back up. She blows her hair out of her eyes with an exaggerated puff, but she’s smiling.
I start to move us to the music, bringing her closer as I count the steps.
“Sorry about freaking out,” she says.
“Don’t be sorry. This is a big deal to you.”
“Honestly, I’d barely thought about it until Mam brought it up this morning. I think she’s extra nervous with me and Aidan at home this year. She’s going all out. Even though Aidan hates it,” she adds dryly. “He always did. Can’t stand the suit-and-tie affair. Can’t stand her friends. Can’t stand any of it. At least he’s old enough now to pretend for her sake.”
“Are they that bad?”
“No, they’re fun. They are!” she adds when I give her a look. “I used to really like them. I mean, sure, when I was a child, it was boring, but when I got older, it was like I could play dress-up for an evening. And then, with Isaac there, it was…Well, he was good at talking to people. He didn’t like the dancing part, though,” she admits.
Called it.
“We’ll dance,” I say decidedly, and she shrugs a reply even though she looks pleased. Or at least she does for a second before something else starts worrying her.
“It’s at the Regency this year,” she says. “It’s the hotel we stayed at for the wedding.”
“I remember. And I’m going to guess you haven’t been back there either.”
