Chapter 23 #2
“What?” I blink. “No! I wasn’t trying to get myself invited.” I flap my hands frantically, worried Phillip will think I’m trying to weasel my way into all his holiday activities.
“Nonsense.” Linda waves me off. “We can’t have you alone.
We insist, don’t we, dear?” she asks Phillip, who studies me for a long beat, his eyes narrowing like he’s weighing every possible risk.
I brace for another round of interrogation, but his gaze shifts to Linda, then to Helen, and he softens almost imperceptibly.
He exhales and says, quieter than before, “No one should spend Christmas by themselves. Especially this year.”
It’s not warm exactly, but it’s real, like he means it.
With that said, Linda turns to me, beaming. “It’ll be so fun, Teddy. We wake up early to open presents, have a massive brunch, and then go for a walk on the beach. You’ll love it.”
“Oh, well…” I look at Helen, unsure.
“I agree with Mom and Dad,” Helen tells me. She reaches over and gives my hand a soft squeeze. “Please come here for Christmas.”
My heart stutters at the warmth in her eyes. Does she mean it for her parents’ sake? Or for hers?
I tell myself it’s the first, but I can’t help hoping it’s the second.
“I’d love to,” I say, smiling at Helen before turning to Linda. “I can never say no to your daughter.”
Linda claps her hands and beams at me. “Wonderful! Thank you, Teddy. I’m so happy you can make it. We’ll do the boat parade and then, a week later, Christmas. It’s good to have fun things to look forward to.”
“Thank you,” I tell her honestly. “For inviting me.”
“Of course,” Linda replies. “We have to include Helen’s boyfriend.”
A stab of guilt punches through me at that word.
Boyfriend.
I hadn’t realized how hard this part of the plan would be.
Being here, at this table, with this family.
I forgot that when you pretend to date someone like Helen, someone with people who love her fiercely, you’re not just pretending with her.
You’re pretending with all of them, and, when it ends, it’s not just one heart that gets broken.
***
After we clean up from dinner, Helen and I follow her parents down the stairs, with me clomping along, holding onto the handrail so my cast doesn’t make me fall.
The lower level of their house feels more like a luxe home theater than a basement.
It has an oversized sectional couch, a cozy lit fireplace, ceiling-mounted speakers, and a projector aimed at a wide screen on the far wall.
That’s not what captures my attention, though.
It's the decorations. Nutcrackers stand like bouncers at a peppermint nightclub. Framed Christmas pictures are on the walls. Santa watches from six different shelves, and I’m 90 percent sure one of the reindeer pillows just winked at me.
Helen’s parents take Christmas very seriously.
I pause at the last step and take in not one, but two, towering Christmas trees.
The first is fully decked out in Frozen-themed ornaments. Tiny Elsas, Annas, Kristoffs, and Olafs shimmer beneath twinkling lights. I had no idea so many variations existed. Helen wasn’t exaggerating when she said her mom was obsessed.
The second tree is more personal, with a mix of store-bought baubles and faded, handmade ornaments.
I look more closely and see clumsily glued sequins, crooked stars, and tiny handprints.
The kind of stuff made at school holiday parties, each one bearing the unmistakable scrawl of a child’s handwriting.
My chest tightens unexpectedly. There are similar ornaments on our family tree, the one at my mom’s house. Mementoes from when my siblings and I were kids. It’s probably because we were just talking about them, but a wave of longing for my family crashes over me.
I let out a small sigh, barely audible, yet somehow Helen hears it.
She turns to me with a questioning look. “Hey,” she says quietly, inching closer. “You okay?”
I force a smile and tilt my head toward the tree. “Your childhood self had excellent taste in glitter glue.”
She snorts softly, but her eyes stay on my face, too perceptive for comfort. We take the last step into the room. Helen looks like she wants to continue our conversation, but her mom claps and calls out, “Freeze, kids! Look over your heads.”
Coming to an abrupt halt, Helen and I look up to see a twig with white berries and glossy green leaves. It’s tied with a red ribbon and dangles right over our heads.
Mistletoe.
“You know what to do!” Linda says, beaming.
“Uh—umm…” Helen flushes scarlet and turns to me with wide eyes. My cheeks heat to match hers. This is awkward beyond belief.
“Don’t force them,” growls Phillip, who I’m sure is fervently hoping not to watch his only daughter get kissed by me, the loser.
I’m not proud of it, but his disdain is what goads me into action. My hand wraps around Helen’s waist and with one smooth motion I reel her body flush to mine. I lower my mouth to her slowly enough that she has time to push me away if she wants, but Helen’s gone soft in my arms.
I kiss her.
I expect it to be chaste, polite, to lightly brush my lips against hers, but the moment our lips touch, everything shifts. Helen’s arms fly up around my neck. She leans in, presses closer, her mouth soft and eager beneath mine.
A spark ignites, instant, charged, and dangerous.
Everything around us fades as I lose myself in the kiss.
Suddenly, it’s just us. No parents, no fake dating, no unspoken regrets.
My arms tighten around her instinctively, like my body remembers what my brain has tried to forget.
Her mouth drops open with a sigh. My tongue sweeps in to meet hers, leisurely stroking and caressing.
She teases my tongue piercing, pulling the bar into her mouth, and I have to stifle the moan that climbs my throat.
The feeling of her in my arms is heaven, warm and lovely.
I have no idea how long we stay like that, but her dad must think it’s too long because the sound of him loudly clearing his throat breaks us apart.
I pull back reluctantly, still holding Helen. She blinks up at me, dazed, her lips parted, so beautiful I can’t stop staring.