My hands are deep in soapy water when Keno’s hands touch my hips. I freeze so I don’t accidentally slice my hand with an errant knife as his arms circle my waist. His body presses to mine and he kisses the back of my shoulder.
“Not gonna lie. I could definitely get used to this,” I admit quietly.
I feel him smile against my shoulder.
“I think I’m finished. Unless you want me to stuff the stockings now.”
Leaning into him a little more, I shake my head. “We can do it together when everyone goes to bed.”
He sighs. “I’m nervous.”
“I know you are. Want to help me with the pies?”
“I can’t believe you volunteered to cook,” he says as he pulls away from me. I’m immediately missing his touch.
“I’m nervous too,” I admit. “This keeps me focused on something that takes a bit of concentration. That reminds me, we’re having brownies for dessert. We should start on those before the pies.”
Our plan is to get as much prep for tomorrow night’s meal out of the way tonight. That way, we can enjoy Christmas Day, since it’s our only full day with our families. I imagine they’re going to have a lot of questions.
Just as I finish washing the first load of dishes, there’s a knock on the door. Keno and I meet each other’s eyes. This is it. This is the moment.
Since my hands are still wet, Keno heads for the door and opens it. “Mom,” he greets, and I lean over the counter to see him hug his mother. She’s so short. Ha! I wouldn’t have guessed. His father is super tall, which must be where Keno gets it from.
They have two big suitcases that Keno helps his father bring inside and then pulls them through the living room to the kitchen, ignoring the way his mother is admiring the tree and the area.
“This is Etna,” Keno introduces, and I have both parents’ attention. “My mom, Luciana, and dad, Francis.”
“Hi,” I say, reaching my hand for theirs. “We’re really glad you could make it on such short notice.”
“It’s not often that we get to see our son,” Luciana says. “We take the time we can get.”
“You’re here first,” Keno tells them. “You can have either of the rooms on the left; the doors are open.” He peeks down the hall to make sure.
“Thank you,” Luciana says, pulling Keno down again to kiss his cheek. “Help me with this one. Dad will bring our clothes to the room.”
Keno brings the bigger suitcase into the living room, still in my view, as I pick up where Keno left off with the brownies. He sets it on the couch and helps her open it, revealing tons of presents that she begins fussing over. Fixing the wrapping and bows and setting them under the tree.
The next knock on the door can only be my parents. I wipe my hands as I move toward it, but Keno is already there, opening it. I’m halfway across the room when he steps aside to let my family in.
Seeing them, feeling the way my smile splits my face, I realize just how long it’s been since I’ve visited.
“Hi, baby,” Mom coos when she sees me.
But then Edna’s inside and she runs into my arms like when we were kids on the playground. I hug her tightly. There’s nothing like the feeling of my twin’s heart beside mine. As if they remember sharing a womb. I swear, as soon as they get close, our heartbeats sync.
“Missed you, Eddy,” I murmur.
“Missed you too, you big dumb hockey player.”
I grin, closing my eyes as I hold her for another minute. Eventually, I set her down. Keno’s standing with his mother, her arm around his waist, as his father stands in the hall entrance. My family and I are taking up the middle of the room between the four of us and their luggage.
“Sorry,” I say. “This is my twin, Edna. My mom, Melany, and my dad, Roger. This is Keno, his mom, Luciana, and his dad, Francis.”
There’s chaos as the parents exchange handshakes and hellos, and ask about how their travel went. The weather where they came from. Etc. Etc.
Keno, Edna, and I head back toward the kitchen, escaping the parental chatter. Keno returns to the brownies and I start on the pies while my sister leans against the counter.
I nod toward the table. “Hungry?”
