“They all think your project is a Christmas present.”
“I know.”
“They’re all giving you stuff.”
He sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
“You haven’t told them not to?”
“No. Have you?”
“Didn’t have the heart.”
“Did you buy them presents?”
“I did. Something for you, too.”
He groaned. “But I didn’t?—”
“You’re covered. You have a group gift.”
He sighed again. “Not my intention.”
“The timing is perfect. How’d that happen?”
“It crept up on me.”
“Then Mila doesn’t know how much you loathe?—”
“She doesn’t, and please don’t tell?—”
“I wouldn’t, big brother.”
“What have you said to Luis?”
“Not much. He knows I’m not a fan.”
“But you have lights and presents.”
“He loves this time of year.”
“And you love him.”
“Exactly.” The song ended. Meeting his gaze, she patted him on the chest. “Just get through Christmas. It’ll be clear sledding after that.”
“I’ll follow your lead.” At least until the twenty-fourth. Then he would go underground with some excuse or other.
During the time he and Jordie had lived together, they’d stayed in that night watching reruns of Bonanza. If she’d noticed that he’d quietly gotten drunk every Christmas Eve, she’d never commented on it.
That was still his preferred method of handling the occasion. Assuming he came up with a decent cover story, he’d be able to do the same this year.
But as he escorted his sister back to the table, Mila glanced away from her conversation with Luis and gave him a heart-melting smile. Guilt sat like a lump of moldy cheese in his gut.
Was he seriously planning to lie to her about his reasons for skipping Christmas Eve with her family? Sure looked like it.
The alternative was treating her to the ugly story he’d never told anyone. He wasn’t about to risk it. He could come off looking like the manipulative SOB she’d dumped. Or even worse, a damaged man who wasn’t worthy of her.
Chapter Eighteen
