A warm ember unexpectedly radiates within my chest. I’m shocked that he thinks of me at all, much less that he worries for my safety. My left knee bounces as I take a second to compose myself.
“That’s really sweet of you, Dad. I’ll make sure to let you know if anything feels off.”
Dad’s pokey eyebrows hitch, and he looks genuinely confused. “Don’t call me, call the 24/7 security team. They should be your first point of contact in an emergency.” He says this like it’s been written on tomes for centuries. “Do you need me to give you their numberagain?”
Realization trickles over me like ice water. Of course my father cares about my well being. He’d have to be a monster not to. But that doesn’t exactly mean he’s concerned forme. His daughter, standing in front of him and wishing for a morsel of connection between us.
Grief hits me in the stomach with a baseball bat, and I wish Grandma Chen was here right now. She’d know how to salvage theevening. She’d see me forme, not the “Ghost of Disappointing Daughters Past.”
“No, Dad. I still have the security number.”
Unaware of my feelings—what’s new, I remind myself—Dad nods and turns back to his book,Forty Surgeons That Changed the Game. Mom is still talking to Liza and Cameron about their trip, so I decide to drift by the twelve-foot Christmas tree. Holiday music floats overhead as I brush the pads of my fingertips across a shiny red bauble, crisp ribbons twinkling beside it.
I hate it. I hate all of it.
I want to stuff the tree into a bag like the Grinch I am and haul it away. I recall my bewilderment as a kid when I’d visit my friends’ houses, their Christmas trees strewn with sticky tinsel and handmade ornaments. Heard the loud laughter, saw the parents watching their children with shining eyes.
I flick the bauble, and it swings back and forth. If I ever settle down, I refuse to have a department store-looking Christmas tree like this one ever again.
A sudden knock at the door sends everyone’s heads swiveling. I exchange a glance with Liza, who looks baffled, too. Mom sashays to the door in her wrist-length green velvet dress and swings it open.
“Tanner? What a lovely Christmas surprise!” Her honey eyes cut to mine, and the glint within them tells me this is no accident. “We’re just having a Christmas Eve gathering, but we’d love for you to join us, anyway! Come in, come in!” She gestures him forward, and my stomach sinks.
An effing blind date? For an intimate holiday family dinner?
There is about to be a Grinch-shaped hole in the living room wall.
six
PRESENT DAY
KATE
My heart thuds as a tall man with pale blonde hair steps through the front doorway. He’s wearing khaki slacks and a navy button-down, and my mother—the evil, gracious hostess she is—takes his suede peacoat and hangs it in the closet. Tanner takes in the scene before his eyes meet mine, and he seems to register what he just stepped into.
You poor sucker.
I don’t know what Mom told him, but he looks every bit as blindsided as I am.
“Everyone, meet Tanner Evans. He works with your father at the hospital and wasn’t able to go home for the holidays.” Mom pouts, clinging to his muscular arm like her Kentucky beauty pageant days aren’t thirty years behind her. “Come in, don’t be shy.”
Liza snaps out of it and greets him, followed by Cameron.
I stay cemented to the plush carpet, and I wonder if it’s possible to die from sheer willpower. Tanner steps over to my father, who stands and shakes his hand.
“Hello, sir. It’s uh, great to see you outside of work.” Tanner’s voice is deep but has a warm fullness to it.
“Likewise. Welcome to our home.” Dad gestures grandly like a cheap auto salesman.
I cross one cashmere arm over my stomach, still holding my cranberry crap-tail by my bare collarbone as Tanner approaches me. He’s tall. Not Brandon monstrosity tall, but close. The nearer he gets, I notice there are green flecks in his hazel eyes. Not Brandon green, but… I digress.
“And you must be Kate.” Tanner graces me with a shy smile of straight teeth, which look somehow small on his broad face. His eyebrows are blonde like the neatly trimmed stubble on his angled jaw.
“You’re right. IamKate.” I nod, then lower my voice to add, “Andyoujust got Vivian Rochester-Chenned.”
He gives a good natured chuckle, rocking back on his heels with his hands in his pockets. “Gotta say, I’m not sure I’m enjoying it.”
I can’t help a small grin from forming. “Me neither.”
