Page 142 of If You Claim Me
“I didn’t want to disappoint you by showing up in something you couldn’t criticize.” Looks like we’re starting the night slinging arrows.
“You definitely excel at disappointing this family,” he agrees.
I expect the barb, but it still hits sharper than I’d like. “I guess it’s good that I’ve stopped trying to win your favor, then, isn’t it?”
“You could make family events less stressful for everyone if you stopped being such a brat.”
“Why do you think I act this way?” I ask, hoping I sound casually indifferent.
“To get attention.”
“That’s exactly right,” I agree. “Because if you couldn’t be disappointed in me all the time, you’d have to find someone else to be disappointed in. At least the heat is off my sisters and mother when I’m around.”
My gaze shifts to my wife on the couch, flanked by Isabelle and Portia, who are smiling and laughing. Usually Christmas is tense. Unpleasant. Everyone waiting for Dad and me to draw swords and start fighting. Because I can’t help myself. Or maybe because it feels too risky to try anything else.
“Why don’t we open some gifts?” Mildred says, eyes on me. She hastily tacks on, “Unless you have a specific order you do things in? I don’t want to mess with tradition.”
“We usually have dinner first,” Mom says.
“We can change it up this year for Mildred, though.” Isabelle squeezes my wife’s hand. “Do you always open presents first?”
Her cheeks flush. “Oh, uh, I don’t really have family traditions, so we can do whatever works for everyone else.”
Portia and Isabelle are quiet a moment. They glance at each other as they put the pieces together.
Mom surprises me—and I think everyone else—when she says, “We could open one gift before dinner.” She turns nervously to my dad. “Couldn’t we, Duncan?”
“Of course we can,” Meems cuts in, beaming at Mildred. “New family members call for new traditions.”
“You can just open the gifts I brought.” Mildred hops up, her smile bright.
She hands a gift to everyone, and when she offers one to me,I pull her into the oversized chair with me and nuzzle her neck. “I’d rather unwrap you.”
She elbows me in the ribs. “Behave.”
“What if I don’t want to?” I’m doing exactly what my father said, being a brat. The family problem. Mildred didn’t ask for this.Shit.
She turns toward me, searching my face as the sound of tearing paper fills the room. “This is not for me. This is you reacting to something, and later you’ll tell me what it is.”
Isabelle and Portia squeal with excitement, dragging my attention away from Mildred’s unimpressed gaze.
My sisters pull on their toques, helping each other adjust them.
Mother frowns. Meems is grinning widely, and my brothers-in-law and father appear confused.
“I like to knit,” Mildred explains. “I make hats and mittens for people who frequent the library, and everyone needs a winter hat, so…” She shrugs, and I wrap an arm around her, kissing her temple. She doesn’t elbow me this time.
“We should take a picture,” I suggest.
“Oh, I—” Mother starts.
“Oh yes! Let’s set up the tripod so we can all be in it!” Isabelle says. “Last year Connor missed the family photo!”
Because I also missed Christmas in Cabo.
Portia adjusts her hot pink hat with BBB knitted into the brim and hops to her feet. My sisters could not be happier. My brothers-in-law look annoyed. But miraculously, my family gathers in front of the fireplace and don their knitted toques. The guys’ all have the Terror logo knitted into them.
“These are impressive,” I say as Mildred adjusts my hat. I wrap my arm around her and pull her close as Isabelle rushes back into place.
