Page 57 of Holiday Love
“Yeah.” An idea sparks in my head, something small but good. I lean toward Linda, conspiratorial. “What if, this year, instead of watching from the shore...you wereinthe parade? Like, actually on a boat.”
“What?!” Linda’s eyes go wide, like a kid being offered a pony. She grabs my wrist and squeezes. “Are you serious? That’s on mybucket list!”
Those words,bucket list, make Phillip flinch. His jaw clenches, and he busies himself straightening his silverware, lining up knife and fork like a surgeon preparing to operate. For a moment, he looks older, wearier, and it strikes me that his gruffness isn’t only anger or judgment. It’s fear. Love.
“I’m totally serious.” I turn my attention back to Linda. “We decorate the boat every year. It’s not fancy, we’re not exactly Pinterest-level with our lights, but it’s a lot of fun.”
“Yes! I want to go!” Linda’s practically vibrating.
We share a smile, and it makes me feel good, like I’ve offered something to this family, to Helen who took me into her home when she didn’t have to. I want her to think I’m capable. That I can give as well as take.
“We’ll do the boat parade together,” Linda says, glowing. “But what about Christmas? Do you always stay in California for the holiday?”
“Yes, always here. I went away to college in Michigan for a while, but…” I sneak a look at Phillip, bracing myself for his usual disappointment. Sure enough, his eyes harden almost imperceptibly. “I didn’t like it. You remember the snow with such fondness, but to me, snow’s something you snowboard in, then leave. I didn’t likelivingin it.”
“You’ll be with your family here?” Linda asks.
I shake my head, warmth draining from my chest as I think about how dismal this Christmas will be. “Not this year. My mom and stepdad are in Japan. He’s finishing up a big tech project so they can’t fly back. My siblings are meeting them there with their families. I was supposed to go too, but with this bum leg…” I gesture downward, my tone dipping. “There’s no way I can manage the flight. Can’t even bend my knee, and you know how legroom is on airplanes.”
I look down at the floral tablecloth, trying to hide how pathetic I feel.
“That decides it!” Linda declares, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “You’re coming here for Christmas.”
“What?” I blink. “No! I wasn’t trying to get myself invited.” I flap my hands frantically, worried Phillip will think I’m trying to weasel my way intoallhis holiday activities.
“Nonsense.” Linda waves me off. “We can’t have you alone. We insist, don’t we, dear?” she asks Phillip, who studies me for a long beat, his eyes narrowing like he’s weighing every possible risk. I brace for another round of interrogation, but his gaze shifts to Linda, then to Helen, and he softens almost imperceptibly.
He exhales and says, quieter than before, “No one should spend Christmas by themselves. Especially this year.”
It’s not warm exactly, but it’s real, like he means it.
With that said, Linda turns to me, beaming. “It’ll be so fun, Teddy. We wake up early to open presents, have a massive brunch, and then go for a walk on the beach. You’ll love it.”
“Oh, well…” I look at Helen, unsure.
“I agree with Mom and Dad,” Helen tells me. She reaches over and gives my hand a soft squeeze. “Please come here for Christmas.”
My heart stutters at the warmth in her eyes. Does she mean it for her parents’ sake? Or for hers?
I tell myself it’s the first, but I can’t help hoping it’s the second.
“I’d love to,” I say, smiling at Helen before turning to Linda. “I can never say no to your daughter.”
Linda claps her hands and beams at me. “Wonderful! Thank you, Teddy. I’m so happy you can make it. We’ll do the boat parade and then, a week later, Christmas. It’s good to have fun things to look forward to.”
“Thankyou,” I tell her honestly. “For inviting me.”
“Of course,” Linda replies. “We have to include Helen’s boyfriend.”
A stab of guilt punches through me at that word.
Boyfriend.
I hadn’t realized how hard this part of the plan would be. Being here, at this table, with this family. I forgot that when you pretend to date someone like Helen, someone with people who love her fiercely, you’re not just pretending with her. You’re pretending withallof them, and, when it ends, it’s not just one heart that gets broken.
***
After we clean up from dinner, Helen and I follow her parents down the stairs, with me clomping along, holding onto the handrail so my cast doesn’t make me fall. The lower level of their house feels more like a luxe home theater than a basement. It has an oversized sectional couch, a cozy lit fireplace, ceiling-mounted speakers, and a projector aimed at a wide screen on the far wall.
