CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
LINA
I knew Christmas was going to be hard this year, but I think waking up on Christmas morning at my aunt’s house instead of my childhood home was the final stepping stone in realizing that my mom is actually gone.
The first Christmas without my mom was one I don’t remember. I was so deep in the throes of grief that I barely even recognized it had passed. It was also during the three-month period I spent at a house I rented in the mountains all by myself. Wallowing. Hiding.
This year I’m forced to face it. Spending it with my aunt and my cousins.
Right after I rolled out of bed, I took a shower and cried through the entire thing.
I wasn’t ready to go downstairs yet. I wasn’t ready to see the brightly lit Christmas tree with no gifts from my mom beneath it.
I couldn’t even gather myself long enough to actually wash my hair.
It was one of the longest showers of my life, and all I could think about was the fact that every Christmas for the rest of my life would be spent without my mom.
My chest physically hurt, and I could barely reserve the strength to turn off the water, step over the edge of the bathtub, and put back on the same pajamas I wore to bed last night.
Walking out of the bathroom, I can already smell the gingerbread cookies from all the way upstairs.
I head back into the guest bedroom that Aunt Carrie says is mine now.
It’s a kind gesture, but not one I want to accept.
Yet, I’m currently occupying it while I wait for someone to come and drag me downstairs.
I do not want to go down there under my own volition. I need someone else to want me down there because I don’t want myself anywhere near the Christmas spirit.
Aunt Carrie’s twin girls are only four years old, and I can’t stand the idea of putting a damper on the magical, little-kid Christmas they deserve. I don’t want to ruin the holiday for everyone else with my overwhelming misery.
The only one from the house who has bothered to breach the confines of the guest bedroom is Judy, the twelve-year-old springer spaniel who barely can get her front paws up on the bed.
When she comes trotting in, tears burn my eyes yet again.
Judy was my mom’s dog. She used to sleep at the foot of her bed every night, curled up so tightly you could barely tell where the dog ended and the blankets began.
Seeing her now, older and slower but still trying to comfort me the only way she knows how, tears me apart.
So, I lift her back legs to help her up onto the bed before turning on the TV and crawling back into the same unmade bed next to her. I don’t even care that my wet hair is soaking the silk of my pillowcase.
I read in an article somewhere about getting over lost family members, and there was only one thing I remember reading in it.
Holidays never get easier.
So here I lie in the queen-size bed, just Judy and me on Christmas morning, hoping that isn’t true.
I barely feel like myself the rest of the morning. I had turned on an episode of Gilmore Girls out of habit, and it hasn’t stopped playing since. It didn’t make me feel better, though, due to my poor choice of TV show.
Picking a series about a mother and daughter when I can barely say the word "mom" out loud was cruel—like pouring salt into a wound I keep pretending isn’t there.
It’s a little past one p.m. now, and I’m only now thinking about going downstairs so as not to be rude. However, I don’t think I could even muster the courage to sit up straight right now.
There’s a knock on my door. I don’t move. “Come in.” I sigh, running a hand through my still-damp hair.
The door opens slightly, and my Aunt Carrie’s head peeks in. “Lina, honey, someone’s here to see you,” she says quietly as she glances around the room.
“Huh?” I ask as she steps back and the door opens wider.
That’s when I see him.
“Grant?”
Standing in the hall behind my aunt is none other than Grant Vandenberg.
A smile cracks through his stern features when he sees me jolt into a sitting position in his presence. “Wow, pretty girl.” He scans my body, taking in my appearance.
“Shut up,” I grumble, pulling my quilted blanket further up my body.
He takes a step into the room, smirking even more as he approaches the edge of my bed. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to,” I reply quickly, moving more towards the wall so there’s room for him to sit on the bed. “What are you even doing here?”
My grip tightens on the blanket as he sits on the edge of my bed and grabs its corner, trying to pull it off my legs.
“I came to see you.” He says it like it’s obvious.
“Are you being serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” His gravelly voice grips onto my attention span.
“I thought you were staying in Connecticut for Christmas.”
“I was,” he answers simply, scooting closer to me with every word he speaks.
“But you’re here?”
“Evangelina Everhart, don’t ever question my ability to get to you, wherever you may be.”
That didn’t answer my question, so I pry further. “Why are you here with me when you told me you were spending Christmas with your dad and sisters?”
“I did spend Christmas with my family, but I know you haven’t been looking forward to Christmas, so I called Eden and got your address.” He grabs my hand, pulling me closer to the edge of the bed. Then he stands up. “Now get up, you’re coming with me.”
I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that he skipped out on Christmas with his family to be here with me, for no apparent reason.
“How are you here if you spent Christmas with your family? You’re lying to me, Grant.”
He grabs both of my hands and pulls me roughly to my feet. “I’m not a liar, Lina.”
Even if he’s not lying, he’s avoiding my question.
“ How are you here? ” I ask in an accusing tone.
“I have a private jet at my disposal. The flight from Hartford to Boston is less than an hour.”
Oh.
Grant wraps a strong arm around my shoulders, pulling me further away from the bed.
I’m pretty sure that there will probably be a permanent indent in the mattress from how much moping I did in it. But hopefully I’m done now that Grant is here. Funny how that works.
“Get dressed, we’re leaving.” He picks my suitcase up from where it’s lying on the floor and sets it on top of the dresser that sits in front of me.
“I never said I was going with you.”
I’m not sure if it’s the best idea. Grant and I have barely become friends. Going on a Christmas vacation with him doesn’t seem like the smartest decision.
Then again, getting away from all of this sounds relieving.
“You don’t even know where we’re going,” he replies, as if that is supposed to entice me.
“Exactly! Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“It’s Christmas, Grant. I can’t leave my family.”
“You can’t, or you don’t want to? Because if you think you can’t, you’re wrong. I’ve already talked to your aunt.”
Grant is the only person in this house who isn’t a constant reminder of my dead mom. But it also feels wrong leaving my aunt alone when this is only her second holiday without her sister. She’s probably struggling too.
“You talked to my aunt?”
He nods.
“Did you meet the twins?”
He grins. “Yeah, they’re cute.”
“And you’re sure she seemed okay with this?”
“Yes.”
I sigh, finally giving in. I suppose leaving all of my Christmas misery in Boston will do me some good. “What should I wear?”
He stands yet again, walking towards the dresser where he grabs a pair of gray sweatpants off the top before digging through my suitcase to find a matching hoodie. “This will do.”
“God, are you a fucking mafia boss or something?”
“What?” Grant chokes, and I’m surprised that I blurted out that question.
“No offense, G, but?—”
He cuts me off. “Don’t call me that.”
“But you are the definition of a level-ten control freak.” Grant throws me the outfit he picked out and points a stern finger to my shorts, the ones that probably fit me best when I was age thirteen. “Change.”
“I can’t wear this?” I would never wear this in public. I just like seeing Grant pretend to be annoyed with me.
Is it possible for someone to be even more attractive when they’re scowling? Because I think it is when that someone is Grant Vandenberg.
Seeing through my attempted humor, Grant shakes his head sternly. “We have to leave, Lina. Like, right now.”
“Okay, okay. Are you going to leave?” I look pointedly towards the door.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, pretty girl. Let’s get moving.” He motions forward with his hand.
My mind flashes back to the Halloween party where I got drunk and stripped for Grant. Of course it was Grant, of all people.
“Grant.” My lips form into a line.
“Lina,” he says back in the same tone.
“Can you at least turn around?”
He rolls his eyes but turns towards the wall anyway. “There. Happy?”
I slide my sweatshirt off as I say, “Very.”
I try to make quick time when changing, in case Grant has wandering eyes. But every time I glance back at him, I only get a view of his back, his eyes still trained on the wall in front of him.
“Okay, you’re good,” I say, already heading for the door. Grant turns and follows close behind.
“So…” I trail off, looking behind me and then slowing down so I’m walking next to Grant. “Where exactly are you taking me?”
He runs a hand through his hair before making eye contact with me.
I have never been considered short, but standing next to Grant, I might as well be. He’s almost an entire head-length taller than me, and with me being 5'7, that probably makes him somewhere close to 6'4.
“Stop being so nosy.” He pokes me near my rib, making me jump.
We make it to the bottom of the stairs without another word, but when I step off the last step and into the living room, it feels like all the air has been knocked out of my lungs.
Sitting in the corner of the living room near the fireplace is the giant, glistening Christmas tree that I have been avoiding all morning. The only presents left underneath it are the ones with my name on them.