Page 125 of Beautifully Messy
Anna rushes over, her cheeks still pink with excitement. “You and Unca J and me p’ay in snow again?”
My heart hammers so loudly I’m sure everyone can hear it.
“Yeah, baby,” I say, and she runs off upstairs.
I keep my eyes on Anna's retreating form, deliberately not looking at James. I reach for my coffee, focusing on the warmth of the mug in my hands rather than the weight of attention in the room.
Ivy sets down her coffee mug with a small clink and leans back. She considers me and James.
“You guys are in love, right? That’s the thing we’ve all been watching happen.”
The energy in the room shifts instantly. Gone is the forced Christmas warmth. There is no more pretending this is a normal family holiday. I close my eyes for a brief second, steadying myself. When I open them, I’m clear-eyed.
“Yes. We’re in love.”
I don’t rush to justify or offer explanations. I meet each of their eyes without flinching.
“I won’t apologize for finding happiness, and I hope someday you’ll understand. But I’m not going to answer any questions. The details won’t change anything.”
We’ve all been dancing around this truth for years, and now we’re standing in the ruins of all the deception. We all played a part in getting to this moment, even if James and I get cast as the villains.
I scan the room—every twinkling light, every lovingly placed ornament, the warmth radiating from every corner of this home. The family I once thought could fill the emptiness of my childhood. But only I was able to fill that space.
Some relationships will be irrevocably changed. Some will never heal.
And others, the ones that matter, will still be there. Choosing to remain family—the one we want rather than the one bound by contracts and titles.
A silent conversation passes between James and me as we both stand and walk to gather our things. Mason stomps behind us. “Wait.”
James grabs my hand, linking our fingers. But I stand tall, chin high. I’m not going to cower in front of Mason ever again.
“I don’t want all the details, but you owe me enough courtesy to tell me when this started.” Mason gestures toward our joined hands.
James opens his mouth to respond, but Mason cuts him off with a sharp swipe of his hand. “Not from you.” His tone drops to something lethal. “I don’t want to hear a goddamned word from you. Because no matter what’s been going on between you two, you lied to and led on my little sister for years.”
The truth lands hard, but there’s nothing we can say to rewrite our timeline. We made mistakes, and there’s no way to soften the reality of what we’ve done. His eyes drop to his feet as guilt washes over his features.
I squeeze his hand, and when his eyes meet mine, I squeeze again. We’re in this together.
“Mason, don’t act like you’ve had my best interest in mind.” Ivy walks towards us, chin raised, her fuzzy pink slippers making soft patters against the oak floors. “You knew this was happening as much as I did. We both ignored it. Instead of yelling at them, maybe you need to take a good, hard look in the mirror.”
All four of us stand there for what could be a second. Or a minute. Until Ivy walks away.
Mason stares after her, her words clearly hitting home. But instead of self-reflection, his face twists with something uglier. The need to lash out and make someone hurt as much as he does.
“Did you fuck him here? Fuck him in the room we used to share?” Mason’s shout echoes off the walls, filling every corner.
The room freezes, and no one can deny seeing the ugliness he usually hides.
James shifts beside me, his body tensing, but he remains silent, understanding this isn’t his battle to fight. This is mine to handle. Not because I need to, but because I want to.
“No, Mason,” I say, keeping my voice even. “We didn’t fuck here.”
His nostrils flare, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. But I’m not done. If he wants honesty, I’ll give it to him.
“You want the truth? Pretty much every time in the four years since I met him, when you kissed me, when you touched me, I imagined it was James.”
My chest heaves as I try to drag air into my lungs. James runs a hand along my back, reminding me he’s right there. Mason’s mouth tightens into a thin, bloodless line, and I see our audience wince like someone wiped out on the ski slopes.
