“Say the word and we leave, okay?”
“Yeah,” I say from my trance-like state, focused on the salt and pepper shakers shaped like little mice.
“Evan…” I hear my name but don’t look up.
Will my parents be there? Will they yell at me? Will they know they were right to kick me out? That I’d never change?
“Evan!” Clara snaps.
I literally shake myself, looking back at her. “Sorry.”
“Please tell me what’s going on in there,” she pokes my forehead gently, “you look like you’re about to start steaming out your ears.”
“I’m okay, promise. Just a little tired.”
“Do you want to just stay home? Unpack? WatchThe Bachelorin my bed like old times?” She leans in close across the blue linoleum table. “Exceptnowwe can make up for lost time up there.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, smirk growing.
I’m grateful for the levity of her words, the way they can centre me like no one else can. “I guess I’m more nervous about running into my parents than I thought.”
“I thought you might be. Mom knows the cars they drive. If we see them parked anywhere, we avoid it. If you want to leave, we come home. Everyone here is on teamfuck-the-Pauls.”
“That doesn’t include you, of course.” Maggie winks at me, tying her scarf by the front door. “And I wanted it to bedeck-the-Pauls,” she mimes punching the air, “I’m tougher than I look.” Maggie’s outside before Clara and I get the chance to laugh.
The smile Clara planted grows with Maggie’s care. “You know, I think I prefer deck the Pauls.”
“Oh but whenImake puns, it’s cringey.” Clara throws her hands up exaggeratedly, smirking down at me. She lowers them, offering to pull me up and towards the door. “This isyourtown now, baby.” She kisses my cheek, holding out my coat for me. “Ours,” she whispers, planting her forehead to mine. “No one is going to mess with this. With us. Nobody.”
I nod, kissing her just once. “What comes after the tree cutting?”
“My parents usually splurge on hot cocoa and spiked eggnog at Ralph’s. Sometimes we indulge in a sleigh ride too.”
I slip my hands into my gloves. “You mean the sleigh pulled by the old tractor?”
Clara gasps, clutching her chest with one hand that is still holding a limp mitten. “How dare you! His name is John-Rein-Deere!”
“Oy Vey.” I tighten my scarf and realise that it’s now just boots left to go, causing a spike of anxiety. “Clara?”
“Hmm?” She turns, fully dressed and half out the door.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I hesitate to continue, “I hope… I hope I’m not ruining any of this for you. I hope I don’t ruin it.”
“Never.” She takes my hand and tugs me to her. “Impossible.” She kisses me, soft and gentle and warm in contrast to the winter air spilling inside. “I love you, Evan Paul. I love being home, and I love Christmas with my parents, but not as much as I love you.”
How’d I get so lucky?
“Enough of that guilty expression,” she points to my face, “you’ve earned a happily ever after and I hope that’s me.” She tugs my beanie down past my eyebrows, pushing my glasses down my nose.
I follow her to Daryl’s truck which is throbbing with the sound ofFeliz Navidadeven with all the windows shut tight.She is most definitely my happily ever after.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clara
Evan switched between shifting eyes, forced smiles, and lip-biting all afternoon. All through the tree selection and cutting. All through placing it in the back of the truck, and the hilarity that was my just above five-foot father attempting to lift a five-foot tree into the back without help—because he stubbornly insisted he didn’t need it. She didn’t even crack a smile when the tractor pulling our sleigh made a noisedistinctlylike farting. Not even a smile when we spotted a family of deer across the field.
Evan doesn’t owe me her enjoyment, and I know I should try to just have a good time regardless, but I can’t help but feel dejected every time she glances over her shoulder.
She won’t even hold my hand. She denies every attempt with little shakes of her head and a frown so subtle I’d miss it if I hadn’t spent the better part of my life familiar with her face.
