Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
HOLLY
Family Dynamics
The first day of the Everdale Falls Christmas Festival was, against all odds, a rousing success.
Despite the fact that Mother Nature had apparently decided to test our commitment to holiday cheer by dumping approximately half the year’s snow supply on our small Vermont town, people showed up.
They came bundled in enough winter gear to outfit an arctic expedition, clutching thermoses of hot beverages like survival equipment, and wearing the kind of determined smiles that implied Christmas would happen, even if we had to build igloos around the vendor booths.
What was significantly less successful was my ability to avoid my brother’s increasingly obvious romantic surveillance.
“So,” Matt said, appearing beside me at the hot chocolate booth with the stealth of a ninja and the grin of someone who’d just won the lottery, “that was some pretty intense vendor coordination earlier.”
“It was perfectly normal vendor coordination,” I said, stirring the hot chocolate with perhaps more force than necessary. “Very professional vendor coordination.”
“Right,” Matt said, accepting a cup from me. “Professional. That’s why you and Declan kept looking at each other like you were mentally undressing each other in front of the entire craft booth section.”
I nearly choked on my drink. “We were not—”
“Holly,” Matt interrupted gently, “I’ve known you since you were born, and I’ve known Declan since we were twelve. I can read both of you like picture books. Very obvious, poorly written picture books about people who are terrible at hiding their feelings.”
I looked around the festival, where Declan was currently helping Mrs. Peterson adjust a vendor banner that had come loose in the wind.
He was wearing a dark wool coat that made his shoulders look impossibly broad, and when he turned to say something to Mrs. Peterson, his laugh carried across the square in a way that made my stomach flutter like a caffeinated butterfly.
“We’re just working together,” I said weakly, though even I didn’t believe it anymore.
“Uh-huh,” Matt said, following my gaze. “And I’m moving back to Everdale Falls to play the banjo and groom dogs.”
“Funny,” I said with more bite than necessary. “You are a funny guy.”
“Holly, you’ve been staring at him for the past thirty seconds with the kind of expression usually reserved for chocolate cake or really good shoes,” Matt pointed out. “If that’s professional coordination, I need to completely reevaluate my understanding of workplace dynamics.”
I forced myself to look away from Declan and focus on my brother, who was watching me with the kind of fond exasperation usually reserved for small children doing something adorable but slightly concerning.
“Okay, fine,” I admitted, because clearly my ability to maintain plausible deniability had died somewhere around the time Declan had made me come so hard, I’d seen stars. “Maybe there’s some... chemistry.”
“Chemistry,” Matt repeated, like I’d just announced I was considering taking up interpretive dance. “Holly, you two have been generating enough chemistry to power the Christmas lights. The question is, what are you planning to do about it?”
Before I could figure out how to answer that loaded question, Mom appeared with the kind of bright smile that meant she was about to make an announcement I probably wouldn’t like.
“Holly, sweetheart,” she said, linking her arm through mine with maternal determination, “your father and I were thinking it would be lovely to have Declan join us for dinner tonight. You know, to thank him for all his hard work, and taking over from Matt on such short notice.”
Right. Because that was definitely the only reason Mom wanted to invite Declan for a family dinner. I mentally rolled my eyes, and they mentally got stuck somewhere staring at the back of the inside of my skull.
“That’s very thoughtful,” I said carefully, “but I’m sure Declan has his own plans—”
“Actually,” came Declan’s voice from behind me, and I turned to find him approaching with the kind of smile that suggested he’d overheard the entire conversation, “I’d love to join you for dinner. Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Winters. Uhm, Linda.”
“Wonderful!” Mom exclaimed with obvious delight that he had capitulated and called her by her given name. “Six o’clock.”
As my mother bustled away to spread the news of her successful matchmaking dinner invitation, I found myself standing between my smirking brother and the man who’d rearranged my understanding of what sex could be like, trying to figure out how I was going to survive a family dinner without spontaneously combusting from embarrassment.
“This should be interesting,” Matt observed cheerfully. “Nothing like a family dinner to really test a relationship’s durability.”
“We don’t have a relationship,” I protested automatically.
“Sure you don’t,” Matt said, patting my shoulder with mock sympathy. “That’s why you both look like you’re about to have heart attacks at the thought of sharing a meal with people who’ve known you both forever.”
I glanced at Declan, who was indeed looking slightly pale, though that might have been from the cold rather than anxiety about navigating my family’s obvious romantic agenda.
“It’ll be fine,” I said, more to convince myself than anyone else.
“Just a normal family dinner with normal conversation about normal things.”
“Right,” Matt said with obvious skepticism. “Because our family is known for normal conversation about normal things.”
He had a point. The Winters family dinner table was where normal conversations went to die, usually replaced by enthusiastic interrogations, embarrassing childhood stories, and Mom’s increasingly creative attempts to gather personal information about our romantic lives.
Six hours later, I was standing in my bedroom, staring at my closet like it contained the secrets of the universe instead of just clothes, trying to figure out what to wear to a family dinner that felt more like a romantic interrogation than a casual meal.
“It’s just dinner,” I told my reflection in the mirror that had witnessed countless teenage outfit crises.
“Normal family dinner with normal family dynamics and definitely no romantic subtext whatsoever.”
My reflection looked skeptical, probably because I was wearing my pink polka dot skirt and a soft, black top that I’d chosen specifically because it made my waist look great and was cute as fuck.
This outfit had been discarded in the past, but tonight it was going to shine.
Not that I was trying to look good for Declan or anything.
This was just... strategic confidence dressing.
The doorbell rang, and I heard my father’s voice greeting Declan with the kind of hearty enthusiasm usually reserved for visiting dignitaries or really successful Christmas light displays.
“Holly!” my mother called from downstairs.
“Declan’s here!” I took a deep breath, checked my lipstick one more time, and headed downstairs to face whatever fresh humiliation my family had planned for the evening.
I found Declan in our living room, looking unfairly handsome in a charcoal sweater and dark jeans, clutching a bottle of wine and engaging in what appeared to be a serious conversation with my father about snow removal techniques.
He looked comfortable, relaxed even, like he belonged in our living room discussing municipal winter maintenance strategies.
“Holly,” he said when he saw me, and his smile was warm and genuine and made my pulse quicken in ways that were definitely not appropriate for family dinner situations.
“Hi,” I managed, trying to sound casual instead of like someone who’d spent twenty minutes choosing an outfit for a dinner I was pretending wasn’t a date.
“Declan brought wine,” Mom announced with obvious delight, like he’d just solved world hunger instead of making a perfectly normal dinner guest gesture. “How thoughtful!”
“It’s nothing special,” Declan said modestly, though I could see from the label that it was definitely something special. The kind of wine that cost more than my monthly cell phone bill and probably paired perfectly with whatever elaborate meal Mom had been preparing all afternoon.
“Nonsense,” Dad said, examining the bottle with obvious appreciation. “This is excellent. Very thoughtful indeed.”
Matt appeared from the kitchen carrying what looked like enough appetizers to feed a small army, his expression suggesting he was thoroughly enjoying the awkward family theater unfolding in our living room.
“Hope everyone’s hungry,” he announced cheerfully.
“Mom’s been cooking like she’s expecting the entire festival committee to show up. ”
“I just wanted to make sure we had enough,” Mom said defensively, though the spread she’d prepared could have fed half of Everdale Falls. “It’s not every day we have such distinguished company.”
Distinguished company?
As if Declan were visiting royalty instead of the boy who’d spent countless summer afternoons in our kitchen eating peanut butter sandwiches and arguing with Matt about baseball statistics.
“This looks amazing, Linda,” Declan said, surveying the dining room table that had been set with Mom’s good china and enough food to stock a small restaurant. “Thank you so much for including me.”
“Our pleasure,” Mom said, beaming at him like he’d just announced his intention to move to Everdale Falls permanently and make her daughter the happiest woman in Vermont. “It’s wonderful to have you back home. Both of you,” she added with a pointed look at yours truly.
As we settled around the dinner table, I tried to ignore the fact that my parents had arranged the seating so that Declan and I were directly across from each other, ensuring maximum eye contact potential and minimum ability to avoid each other’s presence and feet.
I felt a game of footsie was on the cards.