Page 16 of Holiday at Home
A slow, rhythmic thumping interrupts, Robbie and Nash coming downstairs, both bleary-eyed, Nash’s hair wild and untamed after a night of sleep. The family tie is unmistakable and—don’t tell Robbie—utterly adorable. Nash sits at the table, staring blankly forward, awake but nowhere near conscious, while his dad sucks down coffee.
“Morning,” I say and Robbie holds up a hand while Nash simply groans.
“I sure do love my grumpy guys,” Nora croons.
“Shhhh…” Robbie puts a finger to his wife’s lips. “I love you but not ‘til after coffee.”
Nash just crawls into Nora’s lap and lays his heavy head on her shoulder.
Laughing, I hug them all, thank them profusely for being here, get myself ready for the day, and head out the door—overly aware that whatever happens at the bakery, however wonderful the day might be, this quiet, dark, empty house will be waiting for me when I get home.
6
Simon
I open my eyes and forget where I am. White walls. Lace curtains. A host of pillows shoved to one side of the bed…
Oh.
Right.
My old bedroom, the one my parents have slowly converted into an incredibly generic guest bedroom. They acted like removing the posters, clothes, and memorabilia I left behind would somehow offend me, but first—I’m not a kid anymore—and second, those things didn’t come with me for a reason. Donating them was the right call.
The one remaining item of mine is a picture of me and Violet, taken right before I left for college, at the height of our love for each other. Eighteen, freshly graduated from high school, nothing but hope and the promise of a beautiful future in our eyes. My arm’s around her shoulder. She’s leaning in, laughing, and I’m pressing a kiss into the top of her head, eyes closed, just filled to the brim with love.
The world hadn’t smacked us in the face with reality yet. We didn’t know college degrees, distance, and just plain maturing could skew us so far from who we thought we’d become that there was no room left for each other.
She’s small town.
I’m big city.
She’s dedicated to honoring her family’s legacy.
I’m… less so.
Groaning, I rub a hand through my hair and push into a sitting position. The rum-soaked cider felt like a great idea last night, but this morning the headache is real.
The doorbell rings. The huff and clatter of Tobias’ nails scramble over the tile downstairs, and Mom’s voice follows, calling for him to slow down as he erupts into a litany of barks and whines. I smile and moan at the same time, summoning all my energy and patience to get me through the day.
This is gonna be a lot.
On a good day, my family is loud and boisterous. But today? The entire extended family is arriving in preparation for our ski trip—aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, even second cousins. From both sides. They’re all piling into this house that is not big enough to hold us all. ThinkHome Aloneenergy and multiply it by ten.
I swing my legs off the edge of the bed, scrub a hand over my face as the commotion works its way upstairs. Conversation overlaps. Laughing. Footfalls. Tobias doing his thing. Did the entire family arrive at the same time? With one last deep sigh, I drag my ass out of bed. It’s time to face the combined chaos of the Holiday and Houlihan families.
I pull on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a T-shirt, brush my teeth, and wander downstairs where Aunt Minnie is holding my father—her brother—in what’s supposed to be a hug but looks more like a Brazilian jiu-jitsu stranglehold.
“Now would you look at that! There he is! I haven’t seen you inyears!” Aunt Minnie releases my father and bustles over to me, reaching up on tiptoes to pinch my cheeks like I’m six-years-old instead of a grown man. To add insult to injury, she engulfs me in a hug designed to squeeze the life out of me. I swear, she wants to siphon love straight out of my chest and into her own.
“Hi, Aunt Minnie, it’s good to see you,” I say, my voice muffled against the top of her head. She releases me but still grips my shoulders, giving me a shake and beaming like I’m Santa himself.
Uncle Jim claps me on the back with a meaty hand. “Finally got over yourself and decided to join the family for the holidays, I see.”
Minnie slaps him on the arm. “Will you leave that boy alone? He’s busy building a future out in New York. You remember being that age.”
I almost thank her for her support, but then her tone shifts as she delivers the killing blow.
“Sometimes we’re just too busy thinking about ourselves instead of what the people who love us might need.”
