Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Natalie stepped into her parents' house, carefully holding Moxie cradled in her arms. She’d planned to slip inside quietly, take a moment to steady herself, but as soon as she closed the door, Zoe appeared, her eyes wide with delight.
“Is that her?” she gasped, hurrying over.
“Yes.” Nat handed the tiny, wide-eyed kitten over. “This is Moxie.”
The kitten, half-asleep from the drive over, opened her mouth in a silent mew and then nestled into Zoe’s arms. Zoe’s face lit up, already half in love. “Look at her… She’s so precious!”
Nat managed a smile. “Sorry, though—I forgot to bring her litterbox and her food. But I’ll make her something to eat in a sec.”
Their mom, just behind, reached for Nat’s coat. “Welcome home, honey. Let me take that for you.” As Nat shrugged off her coat, she noticed her mother’s searching gaze, lingering a moment too long on her face.
“Where’s Sofia?” She glanced at the door as if expecting someone else to walk through it.
Nat’s throat tightened. She hadn’t wanted to think about Sofia, let alone talk about her. “She had a change of plans,” she said. “She couldn’t make it.”
“Oh, well, that’s fine I suppose, but…” Her mom paused, her face softening. “Nat, have you been crying?”
“No, no, I just…” Nat felt a twinge of panic as she scrambled for an answer, forcing a lightness into her tone. “I was chopping onions earlier, that’s all.”
She could feel her mom’s doubt radiating from the silence, the way she scanned for cracks in Nat’s casual facade.
But how could she tell them the truth—that she’d done something she couldn’t even fully explain to herself?
That she’d been stupid enough to let her guard down, to sleep with a guest who had somehow taken up way too much space in her mind and heart?
That she’d been foolish enough to believe, even for a second, that there might be a tiny chance of more?
And now, Sofia was likely going to spend the rest of the holiday with her ex.
Nat could already picture it in her mind, twisted and all too real: Sofia, laughing, pulling Carla close, whispering words meant only for her.
And meanwhile, here she was trying to keep a smile plastered to her face for the sake of Christmas Eve.
Zoe, who was still cuddling Moxie, glanced at her as they headed into the living room. “Chopping onions? Really?”
“Yes, Zoe,” she said, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. “Chopping onions. Really.”
But the corners of her mother’s mouth remained drawn, her eyes still narrowed with worry as she studied Nat’s face. She clearly wasn’t buying it.
Neither was Zoe, who was still pressing gentle kisses to Moxie’s tiny head. “You don’t have to pretend with us,” she said. “We know something’s up. Did you two have a fight or something?”
Nat swallowed, forcing herself to look away. The warmth of her family’s concern was nearly unbearable. She wanted to curl up in it, let herself sink into their comfort, but she couldn’t bear to reveal the truth—that she’d been so reckless, so foolish.
Her dad came in, his voice booming cheerfully over the tension. “There’s my Nat!” he exclaimed, giving her shoulder a warm squeeze. “We’ve been waiting for you to dig in.” He frowned as he glanced around. “Where’s Miss Fancy Pants? I thought she was joining us?”
“Change of plans,” Nat said, pouring herself a glass of wine from the bottle on the table.
She needed something to numb the stinging pang of jealousy still lingering.
She took a sip of her wine. The unfamiliar burn of jealousy in her chest surprised her – she'd never been the jealous type before.
When friends had talked about their struggles with jealousy in relationships, she'd always found it hard to relate.
She'd listen sympathetically, of course, but secretly wonder why they couldn't just let things go, move on, focus on themselves.
Now she understood. The image of Sofia and Carla together at the lodge kept flashing through her mind like an unwelcome slideshow.
Each imagined scene – them talking, reconciling, even kissing – sent fresh waves of that poisonous feeling through her veins.
She hated it. Hated how it made her stomach churn, how it clouded her thoughts, how it threatened to ruin what should have been a lovely Christmas Eve with her family.
"Earth to Nat," Zoe's voice cut through her brooding. Her sister was still cradling Moxie, who had fallen asleep in her arms. "You're totally zoning out. I was asking what Sofia is up to tonight. Or Miss Fancy Pants as Dad calls her."
"Zoe, please put the kitten down while we eat," their mother interrupted, setting down a basket of freshly baked rolls. "We don't want any cat hair in the food."
"But Mom, she's sleeping!" Zoe protested, though she carefully placed Moxie on the couch. The kitten stretched, yawned, and promptly curled back into a tight ball.
They gathered around the table, the familiar ritual of passing dishes and filling plates providing a welcome distraction.
Her mother had outdone herself as usual.
The table was laden with holiday dishes that filled the room with mouthwatering aromas.
In the center sat a golden-brown roast turkey, perfectly crispy on the outside and surrounded by roasted root vegetables – carrots, parsnips, and potatoes that had cooked in the savory drippings.
A boat of rich turkey gravy sat ready to be poured over everything.
Green bean casserole, topped with crispy fried onions, sat next to a dish of creamy mashed potatoes whipped to perfection with butter and a touch of sour cream.
Her mother had also prepared her famous cranberry sauce – not the canned variety, but homemade with fresh cranberries, orange zest, and just the right balance of tart and sweet.
The freshly baked rolls her mother had just set down were still warm, and her mother had even made Nat's favorite – scalloped corn with a crispy breadcrumb topping, though tonight she suspected the comfort food might stick in her throat.
“Thank you, Mom. This looks amazing,” she said, forcing another smile. “It’s so nice to have the night off.”
"You don’t look like you’re having the best night," Zoe said, helping herself to mashed potatoes. "Are you going to tell us what really happened with Sofia? Because something definitely happened."
"Zoe," their mother warned, "let your sister be."
But Zoe, with all the persistence of a sixteen-year-old who'd never learned to filter her thoughts, pressed on.
"Come on, it's obvious. Nat's been acting weird. She slept there again last night, which is unheard of for chalet staff and now Sofia mysteriously cancels at the last minute. Apparently, there were onions being chopped somewhere but I don’t buy it. "
Nat helped herself to turkey, avoiding her sister's keen gaze. She wasn’t hungry anymore but she wanted her mother to know she was grateful. "It's complicated," she muttered.
"Ha!" Zoe exclaimed triumphantly. "I knew it! Did you guys hook up?"
"Zoe!" Their mother gasped, nearly dropping the gravy boat. "That's enough!"
Their father cleared his throat uncomfortably, suddenly very interested in buttering his roll. But Nat could feel all their eyes on her, waiting, and the weight of keeping everything bottled up felt too heavy.
"Fine," she sighed, setting down her fork. "Maybe something did happen between us. And maybe it was amazing and wonderful and completely stupid of me because she's a guest and I'm the help and now her ex-girlfriend showed up out of nowhere and they're probably getting back together as we speak."
The words tumbled out in a rush, and as soon as they were free, Nat felt both lighter and more vulnerable. She reached for her wine glass, taking another long sip to steady herself. “Her ex even asked me to make her a coffee. It was so humiliating.”
"Oh, honey," her mother said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because I'm not supposed to get involved with guests," Nat replied. "It's literally rule number one. And because it wasn't supposed to mean anything. We were just..." she trailed off.
"But it did mean something," Zoe said, her voice much softer now.
Nat nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "Yeah," she whispered. "I think it did. At least for me."