Chapter 5
Lauren
The kitchen was busy, her decorations were festive, and somewhere in the background a crooning voice was cheerfully reminding everyone to be merry.
Lauren was killing it.
Her centerpiece sat in pride of place on the table: pinecones dusted with gold paint, candles nestled in evergreen branches, all of it covered in fake snow. In the middle, individual letters spelled out CHRISTMAS IS LOVE.
She loved it.
She was halfway through arranging one last sprig of holly when the doorbell rang—fifteen minutes early. Of course.
“Tom!” she called, but he was still upstairs changing. She wiped her hands on a towel and hurried to the door, past the twinkle of lights and the scent of roast meat.
Judith and Richard stood on the porch, intimidating against the swirl of snow. Judith’s lipstick was immaculate; Richard’s coat neat.
“Merry Christmas!” Lauren said brightly, stepping aside and welcoming them in.
Judith’s eyes were already sweeping over the hallway garland, the handmade wreath, the felt stockings.
Richard brushed a bit of glitter from his sleeve with two fingers. “Quite a foyer,” he murmured.
Lauren smiled and pretended to herself that had been a compliment. “Come in, come in—it’s warm inside.”
They stepped through, shedding outerwear. She could feel them taking it all in: the oversized ornaments, the knitted runner, the candy-cane place cards. Every piece she’d made by hand.
Tom appeared at last, kissed his mother’s cheek, clapped his father’s shoulder, and that was that. He didn’t seem to pick up on the silent conversation passing between his parents, or notice the tone when Judith asked, “And did you make all this yourself again?”
“Oh, yes,” Lauren said as cheerfully as she could.
Tom didn’t say anything, but he never would. Lauren knew that by now.
Her fingers brushed her bare throat. After dinner, a necklace would be there. That would be Tom’s statement.
Her smile softened into something genuine.
At last the doorbell rang again, and relief washed through her. Jake and Mia—thank God.
Mia swept in with snowflakes on her coat and a bottle of wine in her hand. Judith’s expression warmed; Richard took her coat himself.
Lauren hugged them both, grateful for the warmth of their smiles. They were allies, always kind. Judith’s eyes lingered on Mia with a glint of approval Lauren had never once earned.
Lauren smoothed her apron, forcing another bright smile. She wasn’t going to be jealous of her new sister-in-law.
She looked at her tree. Its branches full of bespoke ornaments, its colored lights dappling the wrapped gifts beneath it.
Soon, Tom would lift the quilt from its wrapping and trace the appliquéd scenes with his fingers—two coffee cups for their first date, the red door of their first place, the church, the beach. He would see the blank squares she’d left at the bottom, the future left open. He would understand.
And then he would hand her her own special gift.
None of the in-law scrutiny mattered—not the tight smiles, not the comparisons, not the careful silences. None of it could touch her as long as she had Tom.
Tonight, when she revealed the quilt and when Tom gave her the necklace, it would all be worth it.