“Twenty seconds.”
I turn and release another sigh. “Ivy’s brother is back. And why didn’t anyone go outside with Grandma in the song? Because Santa would never.”
Angie’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, no. He’s back?”
“Yeah.”
My daughter races through the kitchen and into the living room again, spreading out her items on the couch.
“I’m going to take care of this little peanut,” Angie says. “Clear your head if you need to. But don’t lose hope. Not yet. She’s good for you.”
I tip my head gratefully and then routinely grab the cheese, milk, butter, flour, and cream. If my anxious heartbeat is any indication, this is going to be the comfort food I need when it’s done.
When dinner is ready, the three of us sit at the table and enjoy the meal. I don’t always eat what Emmy eats, especially with my training regimen. But tonight, I’m making an exception. Taking my first bite, I realize I was right to choose the road less traveled, and it’s delicious.
“Yum!” Angie sighs happily, standing and grabbing Emmy’s bowl as well as her own, placing them into the dishwasher quickly.
I’m already on my second helping, crouched over my portion like Beast with his oatmeal. I know this is what I look like because Emmy has giggled no less than three times over the course of dinner.
“Emmy Bear, let’s go! You’ve got your favorite Auntie A tonight on bath duty. Daddy can read your story before bed.”
I give my sister another nod, the debt I feel toward her increasing by the moment. I’ll gladly welcome her kindness. When they head to the bathroom, I finish my last bite, but my mind is so preoccupied that I miss my mouth, a spoonful of mac and cheese falling onto my t-shirt. I gather most of it with a napkin, frowning at the cheese still streaked across my clothing. Sighing, I pull my shirt over my head and stand to take it to the laundry room. Tossing it into the hamper, I return to retrieve my bowl, walking slowly to the sink. The thought of Ivy withdrawing from my life again weighs on me. My feet feel like they’re made of lead. Christmas feels more chaotic than ever.
Earlier today, I convinced Angie and Edgar to change our travel plans so I could stay in town to spend the holiday with Ivy. For a moment, I worried they’d be furious, but they caved like the softies they are. Together, we FaceTimed my parents to tell them we’re treating them to a New England Christmas again. I used up my airline miles; it was the least I could do for expecting them to travel unexpectedly over the holidays. And they’re bringing back the gifts I shipped. It’s a choice I’d make again if I needed to. Except, now I’m not so sure if changing my plans was a risk I needed to take since I’m not even sure where I’ll stand with Ivy after tonight.
Just as a sense of despair sets into my heart, there’s a light knock on the door. With the slight growl that rumbles in mythroat, I confirm that I really can be a bear at times. Turning toward the entry, I call out, “Who’s there?” not liking the thought of a stranger knocking at my sister’s door late at night. There’s no response.
Quickly unlocking it, I fling open the door to see Ivy and Resin standing before it, her hand mid-raise to knock again. Her hand drops, and the arm wraps around her back, her other hand holding the dog’s leash as he nestles against her, peering up for further instruction.
“Starlight,” I exhale.
Her eyes take in my face, moving over me. They widen noticeably when they land on my chest. I didn’t think about the fact that I was shirtless when I opened the door. She’s gripping the leash, and I want to flex just to see what her eyes do. I refrain, but I do straighten my shoulders to rise to my full height. It’s almost comical the way Ivy swallows before lifting her eyes to mine again. Suddenly, I’m smiling, and I don’t even care if that makes me a sap. The girl I care about is visibly attracted to me. And she’s never even seen all my tattoos.
“Starlight?” I prompt gently when her eyes venture away and trace across my skin. The ink symbolizes who I am, the story of my life, and the parts of me that stay hidden, and by displaying them, I’m completely exposing my heart.
“There are just so many,” Ivy whispers and then clears her throat, shaking her head slightly. “Hi, Bear. Had to see you. Hope that’s okay.”
I nod and gesture for her to come in.
“Mmm, something smells good in here.”
The tentative smile she’s wearing is slowly unraveling me. She came after me. “I made mac and cheese. You’re welcome to some. I made too much.”
“I don’t honestly know if there is such a thing as too much comfort food.”
“My thoughts exactly, even though I don’t always allow myself to enjoy it as much as I should.” We grin at each other before I realize I haven’t taken her coat or put on a shirt. Which do I take care of first?
“May I?” I gesture toward her, and she smiles, removing the coat and allowing me to hang it on the rack by the door. Grabbing a hoodie thrown on top of my gym bag in the entry, I slide it over my head, catching Ivy’s stare. Her cheeks hold an adorable blush. I turn toward the living room when my head peeks through.
“Hope it’s okay that I brought my guy here.” My guy.
The thought registers that I want to be called that—permanently. But I know she’s speaking of Resin. To my disappointment, it appears her dog has clocked more time with her today than I have, which makes sense, but it still feels all sorts of wrong. I look at his sweet face. He’s a great dog, one that Emmy would love to grow up with too.
“Of course.” I nod my head and gesture for her to follow me. We walk to the sectional couch, and it’s cozy because of Angie’s superior decorating skills. Thick blankets line the back and sides of the couch. Candles have been lit throughout the space (that was my doing because I’m not sure how people don’t love seasonal candles).
Ivy’s gaze moves about the apartment I am currently sharing with my sister, drifting back to the entryway, tiny pink shoes and my comparatively massive boots tucked sideways against the baseboards. She peeks into the kitchen and spots the three chairs at the dining table, still slightly pushed out from dinner. When I open the drawer of the coffee table and pull out a package of dog treats, Resin’s tail immediately wags. It’s possible I bought the treats as soon as I found out that Ivy has a dog . . .
“May he have one?” I ask.
