“Most of the food is ready,” Yolanda says from the passenger seat. “I’ll just need a little help bringing it all out.” She reaches over and touches my arm. “No drinking tonight.”
I bark out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, Ma, I know. I think I’ve had my last drink for a long time.”
Not one to dwell on bad things, she chatters on about how proud she is of our honorable mention at the gingerbread contest. I’m bummed we didn’t actually place, but there’s always next year.
“Smoke & Sugar winning first left a bad taste in my mouth,” I admit as we turn into my parents’ neighborhood. “They shouldn’t have been allowed to compete.”
“Right?” Yolanda agrees. “They’ll probably put it on the menu and charge an ungodly amount, too.”
Their menu was impressive, I’ll admit that. But, it was also expensive. I’ve eaten at places in Manhattan that cost less. They’re pricing themselves way too high in my opinion.
“Oh, look,” Yolanda says, pointing ahead. “Clara is already here.”
I tense up at the mention of her name. I’ve avoided the love of my life these past few days, choosing to hide out with James at his house. While it was nice getting to know him, I also felt terrible for hiding from my problems.
Coward.
Eventually, I’d had enough, and knew I needed to face our parents, since that was still unsettled. Dad raked me over the coals for a solid hour over my stupidity, but then it changed.
“Everything’s going to work out, Son,” Yolanda says, shooting me an encouraging smile. “Enjoy tonight with our family. Like old times.”
Guilt claws at the inside of my chest. I spent so many Christmasses away and I hate that. I’ve been a horribly absent part of this family.
That ends now.
We pull up along the curb and I put Dad’s truck in park. I climb out and then walk up to the house with Yolanda. Before we reach the front door, I can hear “Jingle Bell Rock” blasting from the speakers. Yolanda chuckles and shakes her head. Nothing’s changed on that front in this Christmas-loving household.
Inside, we interrupt a festive dance party. Dad has both Layla and Ruthie clinging to him as he dances around like he’s Elvis. It’s comical and such a far stretch from the bitch-out he gave me hours before.
Where’s Clara?
Sitting on the loveseat with Frosty on her lap, she watches them with a small, sad smile on her lips. Her eyes are swollen like she’s been crying. I feel like a monster.
Frosty barks happily when he sees me, bouncing off Clara’s lap, and racing to me. I shut the door behind me and scoop him up. He spends a good solid minute licking my face.
“I missed you, little guy,” I murmur, scratching behind his ears. “How’ve you been?”
Once I’ve had enough, I set him down, and he then runs circles around Dad and the girls. Clara doesn’t look at me, even when I sit down beside her. My heart sinks.
I ache to talk to Clara, but she’s upset with me. Understandably so. All I want is to make it all better. To make her happy again.
“Eric,” Yolanda calls out. “I need help, remember?”
With a groan, I rise to my feet and stride past Dad. He rolls his eyes at me and mouths, “Coward.”
Ignoring him, I make my way into the kitchen. Yolanda grips my arms and forces me to look at her.
“You know how to fix this, Eric. What fixes everything?”
I blink in confusion at first before I finally understand. Then, I set to making the most badass, delicious hot chocolate ever. Once I have two mugs filled, I head to the living room and sit beside Clara again.
Yolanda calls for Dad and the girls to help her. He lowers the volume of the music and ushers them into the kitchen.
“Here,” I say, handing Clara the drink.
She frowns, but once she smells the chocolatey goodness, she folds and accepts the peace offering. I stare at her pretty sad face as she sips it.
“Thanks,” she mutters.
