Her grin matches mine now. “You did?”
I nod. “You have ketchup in your fridge?”
Her eyes round, bright and alive. “Always do.”
I let her go so she can grab the necessities from the fridge—ice cold sodas and a bottle of ketchup. Leaving the essentials on the island in front of her, I grab our glasses and fill them with our soda. Natalia opens the ketchup bottle and uses two hands to squeeze more than enough out of it, and until it makes a fart sound that makes her giggle.
“Ketchup farts are always funny,” she whispers, red creeping in her cheeks. “Sorry.”
“You’re right.” I slide her glass toward her. “They’re always funny.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“If you think it’s funny”—I shrug—“then it’s funny.”
Her lip curls and she reaches for a mozzarella stick. “You’re annoying.”
I chuckle and take a sip of my soda.
“Tell me a secret,” I whisper and she dips the mozzarella stick into the ketchup once, twice.
“I’m scared that one day I’ll be lactose intolerant and won’t be able to eat these anymore,” she says so unbelievably serious that I gape at her just a bit. “I know that sounds like a joke, but I’m serious, Rowan. Imagine how sad that would be.”
A roar of laughter unleashes from me and I have to cover my mouth to keep from accidentally spitting over the food and across her face.
“Stop.” Natalia laughs. “I’m serious! Don’t be mean!”
“I’m not being mean.” I laugh, my stomach sore. “I’m sorry. I just…wasn’t expecting that.”
“Whatever. Now you tell me a secret,” she says after rolling her eyes, a smile still on her lips.
I sigh, my chest heavy with tons of secrets I can’t wait to tell her.
“You’re sad,” Natalia murmurs, inching closer. Her hand reaches out but flinches like she might take it back. But she doesn’t. She gives me that hand, putting it atop mine and the warmth bleeds through my skin, comfort settling in my bones like a gift.
I nod.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers and brushes her lips over my jaw. “Your mom is still here though. Remember? She visits, she doesn’t haunt.”
A ghost of a smile on my lips. “She never haunts. I just miss her today.”
“She misses you.” And my heart smiles at those words. “What’s something you used to do together on Christmas?”
“Nothing.” I chuckle, recalling the lazy memories of our family sitting together in the living room watching movies with a fire and doing absolutely nothing after opening gifts. “That was the best part about it. Christmas Eve was always special—she made a show of it and always kept us up past midnight, but no one ever complained. Not when she made it magical.” Natalia smiles and puts her palm to my cheek. “Christmas was for us though. The four of us opened gifts and ate, then did nothing while watching movies on the couch.”
Natalia rounds the island and I stand to welcome her in. Her hand reaches up until it’s pressed against my cheek. “That sounds beautiful.”
“It was simple and beautiful,” I say. “You owe me a new secret now.”
Natalia’s smile falters just a bit and she exhales through her nose. I take her hand from my cheek and press my lips to the center of her palm, a silent thank you for what she has given me.
“I really didn’t want to like you, Rowan,” she says shakily. “And Ireallydid not want to love you.”
I take the liberty of placing my hands firmly on her hips. “Do you?”
“No,” she breathes, shaking her head. “No…I hate you.”
The corners of my lips twitch with amusement. “Why can’t you want to love me, Natalia?”
