Page 36 of Seeds of Christmas
“That’s actually really sweet.”
“And she’d make these cupcakes—my mom is normallysuperstrict about sugar and health food, everything organic and measured—but Christmas morning, she’d make red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. Just for me. She’d put a candle in it and we’d sing happy birthday Jesus and then I’d eat it for breakfast while we opened presents.”
Carter’s smile has gone soft—like something in him is melting—and it does unfortunate things to my already compromised emotional state.
“That’s like, the most wholesome thing I’ve ever heard,” he says. “Your mom sounds great.”
“She was.” The past tense slips out before I can stop it. “I mean, she is. She’s still great. It’s just...”
“What changed?”
This is where I should deflect. Make a joke. Change the subject.
But I don’t.
“My ex.” The word tastes bitter. After months, it still feels like a betrayal to call him that. “Matthew.”
I pause, surprised I’m telling him this. Surprised I want to tell him this.
“He didn’t like traditions that didn’t include him. Said they were childish. That I should grow up. That the cupcake thing was embarrassing and made me look like I was twelve.” I’m staring at my hands now, picking at my cuticles. “And my mom—she started agreeing with him. Said maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to put away childish things.”
“Childish things,” Carter repeats, and there’s an edge to his voice I haven’t heard before. “Like joy? Like traditions that make you happy?”
“I guess.”
“That’s bullshit.”
I look up, startled.
“No, seriously. That’s complete bullshit.” He leans forward. “There’s nothing childish about having things that make you happy. About traditions and rituals and joy. That’s called being human. That’s called having a personality.”
My throat is tight. “Yeah, well. Tell that to Matthew.”
“I would. Gladly. Where is he? I’ll find him right now.”
I laugh despite myself. “He’s probably at home. Planning the perfect Christmas party with our families, where everything is tasteful and mature and completely joyless.”
“He sounds like an asshole.”
“He was. A bit.” The admission feels like relief. Like lancing a wound. “But everyone loved him. Everyone still loves him. They think I’m crazy for ending it.”
“You’re not crazy.” The certainty in Carter’s voice makes me look up. He’s watching me with this intensity that makes my chest tight. “You’re not crazy for wanting to be yourself. Forwanting someone who loves you as you are, not who they think you should be.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
“Okay, well, enough of the joyless monster who doesn’t deserve Christmas.” Carter says it so matter-of-factly that I almost laugh. “Anyone who ruins cupcake traditions is automatically on the naughty list.”
“Is that how that list works?”
“It’s exactly how it works. I’m calling Santa right now to confirm.” He mimes picking up a phone. “Hey Santa, yeah, it’s Carter Wolfe. I need to report a Grinch... Yes, I’ll hold.”
I’m laughing now, really laughing. “You’re so stupid.”
“But I made you laugh again,” He sets down his imaginary phone. “For what it’s worth, I hope you get your cupcake Christmas back someday. The real one. With the bad singing and the sugar coma breakfast.”
The warmth in his voice makes my chest tight.
“What about you?” I ask, needing to shift focus. “What are your Christmas traditions?”
