Page 141 of If You Claim Me
“When I was younger. My schedule doesn’t allow it now.” And they stopped asking years ago.
“Of course not.” Her voice softens with sadness. “But we’ll have just as much fun together this year as we did last year.”
“It’ll be even better,” I agree.
Once we arrive home, we change into formal dinner attire, as is the dress code for the evening. Then Mildred comes down the stairs carrying a huge box that’s decorated like a wrapped present.
“What is that?”
She tips it forward, showing me the contents. “Gifts.”
“For who?”
“Your family.” She says this like it’s the most logical thing in the universe, like my parents aren’t stuck-up assholes every time we see them.
“But I already took care of the gifts.” I get my family the same thing every year: spa gift certificates for my mom and sisters, and bottles of expensive imported booze for my father and brothers-in-law. Meems—I go all out for, though. Every year I get her something different. Last year I picked out a new winter coat with a matching hat and gloves for her ladies’ nights. This year I bought her a special reading chair for the guesthouse because she falls asleep in it so often.
“You took care of the gifts from you. These are from me.” She kisses my cheek and passes me the box as Meems appears.
Mildred’s gaze slides to me, brow quirked. “Matchy-matchy, aren’t we?”
Mildred is wearing a black-and-wine plaid dress, and Meems is in green and black. Both have gold accents. My jacket is the same wine color as Mildred’s dress, and my tie picks up Meems’s green.
Meems’s smile is wry. “Connor has always had a thing about color coordination.”
I shrug. “We’re a team.”
“We absolutely are.” Mildred smiles warmly as she holds out her arms, linking the three of us. I walk my girls out to the car, help them in, and make the short drive to my parents’ house. Just a few hours and then my unpleasant family obligations are fulfilled for the holidays.
When we arrive, my sisters greet us with hugs andenthusiasm instead of air kisses, and we’re ushered into the living room.
“Wow.” Mildred smiles wryly. “That’s quite the tree.”
I hum my agreement. It fits my parents’ white-on-white décor.
Mother comes over to give us air kisses, eyeing my suit with disapproval.
“What’s all this?” She peers at the loudly wrapped box full of smaller, less-loudly wrapped gifts, like whatever is inside might jump out and bite her.
“Presents,” Mildred says brightly.
“Did you wrap them yourself?” Mom asks.
“That’s my favorite part of the season.” Mildred carries the box, which she refused to relinquish to me for reasons I don’t understand, into the living room and sets it next to the monochromatic, professionally wrapped gifts already under the tree.
Julian arches an eyebrow, first at the gifts, then at me. “That’s quite the suit.”
Bryson coughs into his glass.
“Isn’t it fun?” Mildred kisses my cheek, ignoring their rudeness. “We definitely need pictures with Meems before the night is over.”
I want to keep Mildred at my side so she can be my personal shield of sunshine and warmth, but my sisters pull her and Meems to the couch so they can fawn over them and talk.
Julian’s phone goes off. “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to take this.”
Bryson follows him. Can’t say I’m sad that I don’t have to field work calls on Christmas Eve.
My father moves in, expression reflecting his disdain. “I see you’re planning to ruin family photos again this year.”
