Page 59 of Holiday Love
My dad doesn’t answer. He just makes a noise that sounds vaguely like someone choking on a turkey bone.
“See?” she says, undeterred. “That kiss looked like a scene from one of thoseHallmarkmovies, only, you know,better.”
I resist the urge to burrow into the carpet.
Teddy shifts on his feet and rubs the back of his neck.
“The way you kissed her wassoromantic,” Mom carries on, clutching her chest. “I couldfeelit.”
My dad glares at Teddy. “I also felt it. Deep in my soul. Like indigestion.”
“We—we should watch the movie!” I exclaim, desperate for the safety of a dimly lit room where no one can see me blush.
“Oh! Yes! The movie,” Mom agrees, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
We arrange ourselves on the sofa. I’m trapped between my dad and Teddy, close but not touching either of them. The movie playsout in front of me, but I’m not paying attention. I’m too distracted, peeking at Teddy out of the side of my eye. He stares at the screen. Not a single glance in my direction.
That’s okay. Totally fine. Just focus. Jimmy Stewart. Angel wings. Wholesome content. Forget about that kiss the same way you forgot about that night a year ago. Except, I haven’t really forgotten, have I? I think about itallthe time.
Two long excruciating hours during which Teddy’s expression remains flat, emotionless. None of his usual smirks, jokes, or teasing elbow jabs. That’s how I know I’m the one who got carried away with the kiss. To him, it was just a social obligation. A bit of improv. A brief performance for the sake of holiday tradition and my overly festive mother. How can I be mad about it? I’m the one who forced him into this role, the dutiful boyfriend. He did his job, and I embarrassed him. He’s probably mad at me—that’s why I’m getting the silent treatment. At the end of the movie, when George kisses Mary and tells her he’d lasso the moon for her, I make the mistake of glancing at Teddy again.
Still nothing.
Not a flicker. Not a twitch.
Cool. Super cool.
This Christmas season is off to a great start.
Chapter twenty-five
Teddy
The movie is over. We eat pumpkin pie to the sound of quiet conversation fueled by Linda, with occasional commentary from Helen and her dad. They talk about books, gardening, the hospital, and neighborhood gossip. I’m mostly silent, a rarity for me. Gwen teases that there’s a motor attached to my mouth because it won’t stop running. Now I have nothing to say because, quite frankly, that kiss short-circuited my brain. All the memories from last Christmas, the desire that I work so hard to suppress, had risen in me in that moment. If we hadn’t been with her parents, I most likely would have flung Helen over my shoulder and dragged her to bed like a caveman.
Fuck.
I need to get back under control. I said I wouldn’t do this. Promised Gwen and myself this wouldn’t happen. Phillip’s right to hate me. To not trust me. Hell, I can’t even trust myself.
Helen’s been yawning for the last five minutes, her hand covering her mouth. A creature of routine, she usually goes to bed promptly at ten. It’s well past that now.
“You’re tired, sweetie,” Linda says gently. “Why don’t you go to sleep?”
Helen nods and rises from the table. I stand with her, eager to escape. I need some alone time to process that mistletoe incident. To come to terms with the fact that Helen is someone I can never have.
“I’ll turn in too.” Remembering my manners, I give Linda a light hug and extend my hand to Phillip, who gives it a begrudging shake. Again his grip is too tight, like he’s picturing squeezing my neck instead. I clearly haven’t won him over yet, not surprising, considering I tongued his daughter right in front of him like the not-classy asshole I am. I try for a polite smile and say, “Thanks for the wonderful dinner.”
Linda lets out a weary sigh and pushes up from the table. “You know what? I’m tired, too. Let’s leave the dishes for tomorrow.” There’s a tremor in her hand as she rubs her temple. My chest tightens. It’s been a long day of cooking and hosting for her.
Helen and I turn toward the stairs, almost free, when Linda adds, “Helen, sweetheart, I put fresh sheets on your bed for you and Teddy.”
We freeze and, in unison, slowly turn back to her. Helen’s mouth opens, but no words come out.
I rush to fill the silence. “Oh, that’s not necessary. Thank you for the thought, but I’m fine to sleep in the guest room.”
For once, Phillip and I agree. “Yes,” he says quickly, “maybe that’s a better idea.”
Linda waves him off with a tired huff. “Phillip, don’t be ridiculous. Theylivetogether. Sharing a bed won’t hurt anyone.” Her voice has an edge, frustration under the fatigue, like she’s too worn down for an argument.
