Mom is thrilled.
One of her daughters is finally bringing a man home for Christmas. She’s acting as if I picked Knox out especially for her this holiday season.
I’m glad to see her joy. She’s been struggling since Thanksgiving, missing Dad. We wrote Hadley off the guest list weeks ago, what with her gadding about the US, but Oakley’s late-in-the-game defection was a blow.
Since the moment I informed her Knox accepted our invitation, she’s been lamenting that I failed to extend the invitation to include Christmas Day, as well. I kept waiting for a real conversation with the man, but that never happened, so, first thing this evening, that oversight will be rectified. Unless he has a secret family stashed in Chandor somewhere, I’m pretty certain the answer will be yes.
A whimper of pain flits through my stomach.
Nope. Today is a happy day. The past is the past. Ethan was a blip on the radar, a cautionary tale for the future.
A caution my dating life may not need, hip-hip hooray. Knox is…well, a certainty in the deepest part of my gut says he’s in my life to stay.
Mom opens the oven to read the temp on the meat thermometer. “I can’t believe you didn’t mention Christmas Day already. My goodness, honey, I hope the man hasn’t made other plans.”
Mom is a pro at finding things to nitpick her daughters about. Thankfully, it’s benign stuff. She loves a lot, and honestly, if I’m lucky enough to have a family of my own someday, I’ll probably be the same. I tend to get set in my ways and want others to fall in line.
I’ll have to work on that.
“Nope, we’ll be rescuing him from a day of TV in a yucky motel room.”
“I would think so. Surely spending time with us is preferable to that motel.”
“If it isn’t, you and I both have some serious soul-searching to do.”
I so wish Dad were here. He’s going to like Knox.
They’re going to like each other, I can feel it. Dad is great… and who couldn’t like Knox?
Mom snatches the oven mitts with Santa faces from the counter and takes the roast from the oven, covers it with aluminum foil, and sets the temp towarm. Two other silvery-topped casserole dishes are still inside, and two more are wedged into the bottom, smaller oven. Christmas Eve tradition around here is usually a simpler meal, like stew or white chicken chili, but Mom and I agreed Knox deserves a full homecooked meal. Tomorrow, turkey.
Overkill for three people? Perhaps a smidge.
I check my watch and walk to the bay window in the breakfast area overlooking the backyard. The sun has set, but not enough to hide the lowering, gunmetal cloud bank. I clap my hands together. “I hope it snows.”
Mom’s laughter is light. “That would be one for the books. I’ve lived here my whole life and never seen a flake on Christmas.” She snorts. “Now, I’ve sweated to death over a hot stove in eighty-degree weather and hunkered in the bathtub for a tornado warning on Christmas. But I’ve yet to see a single snowflake—so whatever that weatherman is saying, take it with a grain of salt.
Folding my arms and sighing, I move to the dining room window at the front of the house to watch for our guest. Mom is right. If we’re lucky enough to wind up with Christmas snow, I’ll kick myself for not playing the lottery.
The stockings are hung, a fire blazing behind them. I rub my neck and close my eyes. If Knox were here, would he wrap my waist, set his chin on my shoulder, and peer through the windows, waiting with me for the floodlights to catch a shimmering snowflake?
Will he fall asleep in Dad’s recliner in front of a football game, or roll up his sleeves and help Mom and me in the kitchen?
Not a bad daydream in the bunch.
I wouldn’t mind if he dozed. His eyes were watery, red veins webbing around the irises the other night. They were exhausted yet concerned for his injured man. His dedication is admirable. LHS Construction is fortunate to have him on their payroll.
I check my watch and then my phone. The designated arrival time has passed, and he hasn’t texted. He did say he had last-minute gifts to buy.
My stomach flutters like falling snowflakes are feathering my insides. Obviously Knox and I are nowhere near the ring stage, or any kind of diamond or jewelry, for that matter.
Right?
Of course that’s right. Our relationship is young, and I’m not a complete idiot. But…the older I get, the more I learn not to deceive myself. I don’t lie to other people, so why should I lie to myself? I can’t see the future, but Knox is special. This isn’t likely to be our only Christmas together.
Maybe next year we’ll be with his family. Or—
Rein it in, Ev.
