one
SUMMER
Noel.
Star.
Eve.
Belle.
Ivy.
Holly.
Or even Mary (if you’re feeling religious) would’ve been more appropriate than what my parents named their December 24th baby.
Nothing says the holidays, snow, or Christmas magic like the name Summer.
Summer.
Seriously?
I blame my very non-Christmasy name for why my boyfriend hasn’t fully grasped my obsession with Christmas. Okay, obsession might be too strong of a word. It’s not like I keep decorations up year-round or sleep with a stuffed elf. I just like the season andallthe events leading up to it. Plus, it’s my birthday month, so this time of year is extra special to me.
So it’s more like enthusiasm.
I am enthusiastic about Christmastime.
Who isn’t?
But if my parents had named me something more festive, this revelation wouldn’t be a revelation at all. It would just be common knowledge, something Justin would have anticipated and planned for. Nobody expects Summer Stanworth to be obsessed with Christmas and everything leading up to it. But if my name had beenAngelStanworth, well then, that’s par for the course.
And it’s not like Justin doesn’t know I like Christmas. We’ve been dating for nine months. I’ve dropped hints here and there and plan to fully reveal my love for the holidays during the next few weeks. I’m not hiding anything. I’m easing him into it slowly, which is more than my brother-in-law Rick did when it came to his passion for hunting.
Juliet met Rick in December, married him by July, and BAM! By the end of August, he was gone hunting every single weekend. She had no clue. Completely in the dark about the fact that the man she married would be absent from mid-August through November, chasing after animals. Going on a family trip in the fall? Forget about it. Having an October baby? Only if Juliet wants me holding her hand at the birth instead of Rick. That, my friends, is why you date someone through all four seasons before you get engaged and marry them.
Christmas just happens to be the last season Justin and I have to go through, and if all goes well—assuming he can handle my holiday enthusiasm—an engagement is on the horizon. I mean, I’mhopingan engagement is on the horizon. Ever since I was a little girl, all I really wanted was to get married and start my own family. And I will. This will be my last holiday season as a single woman. I’m manifesting.
Do you know what else is on the horizon?
Thanksgiving.
Which kicks off the beginning of a month-long celebration full of family traditions, Christmas parties, and holiday events. Meaning, I can’t hide my obsession any longer. It’s about to slap us in the face. If I’m being honest, ourotherproblems are about to slap us in the face as well because you can’t tell your workaholic boyfriend about your calendar full of activities during his busiest time of year and have him be excited about it.
Can you?
Because if youcan, I’d like to know exactly how you do it without starting World War Three.
“Summer?” Justin’s voice cuts through my no-vacancy stare.
I knock myself out of my Christmas trance and blink back at him. I expect his light eyes to drill me, but his attention is on his computer. Maybe he didn’t say my name…but I swear he did.
“Sorry.” I don’t know why I’m apologizing. Lately, that’s become my MO. I stare at him, waiting for him to expound or look at me. “Justin, did you say my name?”
“Yeah.” He finally looks up, nodding to the stack beside me. “Can you pass me that file over there?”
“Sure.” I hand him the manila folder, hoping to catch his eye, but his gaze goes right back to his laptop. It’s funny how someone can sit right next to you at a kitchen table yet feel so far away.
