Page 91 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
“How big is your family again?” Matt asks, his spiral ham tucked under one arm.
“There are just four of us. Mom, Dad, me, and Banks.”
“Huh.”
We reach the front porch. After being away for so long, I don’t know if I should ring the doorbell or just walk inside. I stall instead. “So you like your Christmas tree?”
“I love it,” he says, looking down the street toward our rental car, then back at me. “You sure it’s okay tied to the roof of the car like that?”
“Totally. I don’t think we’ll be long, anyway. Oh damnit! We should’ve gotten you a stand while we were there! Do you have a stand? And what’s your ornament situation? You know what? A nearby dollar store can likely get you started with some basics. If we hurry, they might still be open. Also! Shit! We need to get you a can of 7UP or Sprite! Adding a bit of 7UP or Sprite to the water can help preserve the tree and keep it looking fresh.”
“Penny. You okay?” he asks.
“Now that you mention it, you’re right, let’s skip this whole party and get your tree in some water before it dries out.”
I grab his arm and turn him back toward the driveway.
He stops us and places a hand on my shoulder. He looks deep into my eyes and gives me a kind—and possibly concerned—smile.
“I’m losing it, aren’t I?” I rest my forehead on his chest.
He wraps one arm around me.
Gosh, when did we get so comfortable with each other?
“Listen,” he says as he continues to hold me. “If you truly want to turn around and head back to the city, we obviously can. If you’re game, we can head to my apartment… have some hot chocolate… decorate my tree…”
“That sounds really nice,” I groan.
It occurs to me then that we haven’t even seen each other’s apartments yet.
“But something tells me you wouldn’t have come all this way if you didn’t want to at least go inside,” he says.
I pull away from the hug and look up into his eyes. “You’re right. I really want to see my sister and her kids.” I hesitate. “I probably should’ve given you the real scoop about this party, though.”
“Shit. Is this where you tell me your family is a bunch of murderers? Penny, did you bring me to a Christmas murder party? Should I make a run for it?”
He always knows how to make me laugh.
“No, they don’t kill people,” I sigh. “Just dreams.”
“Well, the Whitakers officially sound delightful,” he jokes. “I, for one, am excited to spend an evening with them.” He gestures to the door. “Shall we?”
I’m silent for a few moments, just staring at the door. I wrap my coat around me tighter when a cold breeze whooshes past.
“Penny,” he says quietly. “I was serious about being your buffer. I promise I won’t let anyone mess with you.”
“You and I have something in common,” I say.
“We’re both ridiculously sexy?”
I laugh. “That and… I’ve never celebrated Christmas either.”
“What?”
“I mean, not really. My parents’ relationship with each other is… all-consuming. For as long as I can remember, they’ve always had these really intense ups and downs. Christmas was always their ‘up,’ I guess. Since we were super little, they’ve always taken a romantic trip for two on Christmas.”
“Without you and your sister?”
