“May be my happiest Christmas ever,” I admitted. I didn’t give a shit anymore. I wanted Tulya in my bed—even if it was for only one night. I knew that made me some kind of selfish prick, butshe wasn’t immune to me, and she also knew the standards set by our mothers.
Again, my brain was a jumbled mess, thinking like a teenager on a dead-end path.Why do I fear my mother?
“Dinner?” Tulya put me out of misery after taking the final swig of her wine.
I nodded and this time I took her hand in mine and led the way.
“Wait!” She stopped in her tracks inside the room and tugged me to the mirror. Swiping her hand over my mouth, she removed the smear of lipstick taking up residence there. “One quick second. Let me fix mine,” she said before disappearing into her room.
If she only knew how much I missed her already.
“Well, right now my mother is likely sipping a brandy, while Dad is carving the roast. I have to say this shrimp cocktail suits me better,” Tulya said at dinner.
I nodded. “I think all of this suits you better.”
“We always have a hulking roast and potatoes au gratin on Christmas Eve. It’s the one time of year Ezza allows herself to be a glutton.”
“Ezza,” I laughed while saying.
“There’s only so much I can say.My mother thisandmy mother that… She’s certainly overpowering even when speaking about her.”
“True, I’m sorry to agree. Tell me more,” I requested. Something about Tulya rambling set me at peace; it squashed all the anxiety coursing through my veins. I plucked a shrimp and dipped it in the cocktail sauce and waited for my date to speak.
“After we stuff ourselves silly on red meat, we go to sleep heavy and full before waking on Christmas Day, when we start all over again with a huge brunch.”
“Brunch may be the most underrated meal. It can be anything you want—breakfast food, dinner stuff, cocktails or coffee.”
Tulya smiled. “Well, now I know the way to get you to bend. A mimosa, a bagel, and perhaps some roast beef?”
I’d fallen for the easy way we joked with one another. It was simple and natural, how relationships were intended to be—not forced. “I’m a sucker for a mimosa,” I admitted with a wink.
“Our brunch is mostly breakfast foods. We always have a French toast casserole and eggs with a side of turkey bacon. There is always an offering of muffins and rolls, sweet and savory. And of course, mimosas. Then, it somewhat turns into an all-day thing, where we nibble on all the leftovers from the night before and the morning throughout the day. We don’t do a formal dinner, only graze until bedtime.”
“Sounds fun,” I said, taking a sip of sparkling water, thinking what it would be like to celebrate with Tulya and her family.
“It’s also the only day Ezza is easygoing. We don’t expect company, and her brother goes with his wife, so we are not concerned with the Minister or his kids.”
“It makes me understand why you didn’t want to miss it. It’s the only twenty-four hours of relaxation in your house. But I’m sorry if that was overstepping…”
“No, you’re not. It’s okay,” she said quietly.
“We are from the same mold. Your mom appears to be as controlling and daunting as mine.”
“You are not wrong.”
The server saved us from going down a potentially dark and serious rabbit hole, delivering salads and replenishing our drinks.
“Gorgeous,” Tulya commented at her plate.
“If only I made you smile like a plate of greens,” I teased.
She served back the humor. “It’s the pomegranate seeds and roasted pears that do it for me.”
In another life, I could get used to this banter. Tulya made me want to forget Rubia and the expectations that went along with living there.
“What about you? What is Christmas Day like for the Malachites?”
I ran a hand through my hair, sweat forming at my neck. Between all the want and need for this woman taking up residence in my cells, coupled with the tasks in front of us, I was feeling the heat of it all.
