this dinner.”
Curiosity wrinkled her forehead. “Besides your quest to make me love Christmas?”
“Yes, although that is very important to me.” He pointed one gloved finger at her. “The thing is, I didn’t wanna go to the party by myself.”
“Mr. Social Butterfly? I’ve never seen you have trouble talking to anyone at a party.”
“Talking wouldn’t be the problem. I just felt like everyone would be looking at me and thinking, ‘There’s poor Chris, all alone on Christmas.’ I didn’t wanna be that pitiful guy.”
She viewed his profile in the soft light from the street lamps. His insecurity about certain things continued to surprise her, but it was refreshing that he wasn’t afraid to admit it.
“You wouldn’t have been pitiful,” she said. “Though Em’s mom probably would’ve given you her favorite worried look and insisted you spend all of tomorrow at their house.”
“Having her feed me all day doesn’t sound half bad, but I’m much more stoked about our plans.” He smiled.
They turned onto Commonwealth, and white lights twinkling in the trees guided their way down the avenue. As they passed one stately brownstone after another, Aubrey noticed each one had an ornate wreath hung on its front door.
The large first-floor windows of Aunt Debbie’s house glowed with an orange hue, sending out a warm invitation to come inside. Aubrey took the steps up to the red door while maintaining her grip on Chris’s elbow, and when they reached the top Chris pressed the bell.
Uncle Joe opened the door. “Merry Christmas!”
Aubrey stepped inside and hugged him, unable to fully wrap her arms around the burly man. “Thanks so much for including us.”
“You’re both family,” he said.
Aunt Debbie swooped into the foyer for more hugs. “Your timing is perfect. We just got back from mass.”
Chris handed her the Prosecco and met Em at the wide archway between the foyer and the family room. “The heathens are here!”
Em laughed. “I lit a candle at church for your souls.”
“We need more than one candle.” Aubrey slid off her coat. “We need a bonfire.”
The family room was packed with people, all of whom Aubrey had met before. She slowly made her way through the room, chatting with Em’s aunts, uncles, and cousins. With the fireplace crackling, the statuesque tree smelling of pine, and carols playing low on the stereo, she felt like she was in one of those scenes on a Christmas card. And it was actually kind of nice.
Uncle Joe called everyone into the dining room, and they all found places at the long cherry wood table. Em had said Aunt Debbie put in two extra leafs to fit everyone. Aubrey sat between Em and Bri, Em’s twenty-year-old cousin, and Chris sat across from her, but the two of them didn’t talk much during dinner. Em’s Aunt Gayle was on Chris’s left, and she treated him to a constant stream of chatter.
Aubrey listened to the myriad of conversations happening around the table, and they were all lively and upbeat. It was so different from the mood at her family’s holiday table. Usually her dad’s attention stayed on the TV while her mom spilled neighborhood gossip and her brother and sister-in-law yammered on about their law careers. The meals seemed to last hours.
She savored every bite of the vegetable lasagna and wished she could sample the other mouth-watering pasta dishes, but she had to stay in peak shape for nationals. One day soon she’d be able to eat without constantly counting calories.
After everyone helped clear the table, they began trickling back into the family room. Aubrey and Chris paused in the doorway from the dining room, and Aunt Debbie grinned and pointed above their heads.
“Gotcha,” she said.
They both looked up. A small bundle of mistletoe hung from the frame.
“You have to kiss,” Liza said with a giggle.
Chris wouldn’t really kiss her, would he? He’ll probably give me a tiny peck. No biggie.
Then why was her heart
Curiosity wrinkled her forehead. “Besides your quest to make me love Christmas?”
“Yes, although that is very important to me.” He pointed one gloved finger at her. “The thing is, I didn’t wanna go to the party by myself.”
“Mr. Social Butterfly? I’ve never seen you have trouble talking to anyone at a party.”
“Talking wouldn’t be the problem. I just felt like everyone would be looking at me and thinking, ‘There’s poor Chris, all alone on Christmas.’ I didn’t wanna be that pitiful guy.”
She viewed his profile in the soft light from the street lamps. His insecurity about certain things continued to surprise her, but it was refreshing that he wasn’t afraid to admit it.
“You wouldn’t have been pitiful,” she said. “Though Em’s mom probably would’ve given you her favorite worried look and insisted you spend all of tomorrow at their house.”
“Having her feed me all day doesn’t sound half bad, but I’m much more stoked about our plans.” He smiled.
They turned onto Commonwealth, and white lights twinkling in the trees guided their way down the avenue. As they passed one stately brownstone after another, Aubrey noticed each one had an ornate wreath hung on its front door.
The large first-floor windows of Aunt Debbie’s house glowed with an orange hue, sending out a warm invitation to come inside. Aubrey took the steps up to the red door while maintaining her grip on Chris’s elbow, and when they reached the top Chris pressed the bell.
Uncle Joe opened the door. “Merry Christmas!”
Aubrey stepped inside and hugged him, unable to fully wrap her arms around the burly man. “Thanks so much for including us.”
“You’re both family,” he said.
Aunt Debbie swooped into the foyer for more hugs. “Your timing is perfect. We just got back from mass.”
Chris handed her the Prosecco and met Em at the wide archway between the foyer and the family room. “The heathens are here!”
Em laughed. “I lit a candle at church for your souls.”
“We need more than one candle.” Aubrey slid off her coat. “We need a bonfire.”
The family room was packed with people, all of whom Aubrey had met before. She slowly made her way through the room, chatting with Em’s aunts, uncles, and cousins. With the fireplace crackling, the statuesque tree smelling of pine, and carols playing low on the stereo, she felt like she was in one of those scenes on a Christmas card. And it was actually kind of nice.
Uncle Joe called everyone into the dining room, and they all found places at the long cherry wood table. Em had said Aunt Debbie put in two extra leafs to fit everyone. Aubrey sat between Em and Bri, Em’s twenty-year-old cousin, and Chris sat across from her, but the two of them didn’t talk much during dinner. Em’s Aunt Gayle was on Chris’s left, and she treated him to a constant stream of chatter.
Aubrey listened to the myriad of conversations happening around the table, and they were all lively and upbeat. It was so different from the mood at her family’s holiday table. Usually her dad’s attention stayed on the TV while her mom spilled neighborhood gossip and her brother and sister-in-law yammered on about their law careers. The meals seemed to last hours.
She savored every bite of the vegetable lasagna and wished she could sample the other mouth-watering pasta dishes, but she had to stay in peak shape for nationals. One day soon she’d be able to eat without constantly counting calories.
After everyone helped clear the table, they began trickling back into the family room. Aubrey and Chris paused in the doorway from the dining room, and Aunt Debbie grinned and pointed above their heads.
“Gotcha,” she said.
They both looked up. A small bundle of mistletoe hung from the frame.
“You have to kiss,” Liza said with a giggle.
Chris wouldn’t really kiss her, would he? He’ll probably give me a tiny peck. No biggie.
Then why was her heart
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