“One year,” I say, grinning at the memory, “I convinced Rachel if she left milk and cookies for Santa, she had to leave carrots for the reindeer too. She spent hours in the backyard, digging up Mom’s flower beds to find enough carrots.”
“Let me guess, you got in trouble?”
“Oh, yeah. But seeing Rachel covered in dirt on Christmas Eve was worth it.”
As I sprinkle croutons on the salad, Mom calls to me from the living room. “Bring out the veggie tray now.”
“Of course.” I get the platter from the fridge and remove the plastic wrap over the top of it. “I’ll be right back.”
He gives me a mock salute. “I’ll make sure nothing burns.”
As I enter the living room, no one notices me. My name should be Abby, the invisible family member.
“I don’t get it.” Rachel sounds suspicious. “Abby going out with her boss? It seems too convenient. I bet he’s some kind of pity date.”
I freeze, my heart pounding.
“Rachel,” Mom scolds, but there’s no heat in her voice. “That’s not nice. John seems like a lovely man.”
“It’s strange,” Rachel says. “Abby’s never mentioned him before, and suddenly they’re madly in love? Something doesn’t add up.”
I close my eyes, willing myself not to cry. Of course Rachel would see right through our charade and try to tear me down.
“Maybe Abby wants to impress us,” Jake chimes in, his voice thoughtful. “I mean, it’s not like she’s had much luck in the romance department since—”
“Since you dumped her?” Rachel finishes, a note of satisfaction in her voice.
He didn’t dump me. You cheated with him.
I plaster on the fakest smile I can muster. “Veggies, anyone? Made with love and a dash of familial judgment.”
The room falls silent, all eyes on me. Rachel has the grace to appear embarrassed, but her face doesn’t flush. Jake grins, reaching for a carrot stick.
“Thanks, Abs,” he says as if he hadn’t just been discussing my love life. “This looks healthy.”
I set the platter on the coffee table with more force than necessary. A few olives roll off. “If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen, cooking your dinner with my pity date’s help.”
I glimpse Dad sitting quietly in his recliner. He appears concerned, and I hope he might say something, but Rachel launches into another story about herself and his attention is on her again.
I retreat to the kitchen, my emotions a mess. This is why I avoid holidays and hate coming home. Maybe next time, I’ll wear a shirt that saysFamily Punching Bagand not even try to pretend everything is okay with my parents and my sister.
John looks up as I enter, his smile fading when he sees me. “I’m sorry.”
I press my lips together, not trusting my voice to say anything. He might be my fake boyfriend, but he’s also my real boss. Baring my soul would not be a good idea.
John crosses the kitchen in two long strides and hugs me. I stiffen from the shock of being in his arms, but I let myself relax into his embrace. I tell myself I just need a hug, any hug, but this one is good. He’s warm and smells better than the roasting turkey.
“I heard,” he says, and every one of my muscles tense. “Not everything, but enough. I’m so sorry, Abby. You don’t deserve that.”
A part of me wants to sink against him and cry on his wide shoulders. Instead, I pull back slightly and glance up at him. “Why are you being so nice to me? This isn’t you. I mean, it is here, but it’s not at work.”
The corners of his mouth curve upward. “What if work me is the act and this is the real John Barrington?”
“Come on, you two.” Mom stands just outside the kitchen doorway. “We’re taking photos before dinner.”
“The food?” I ask.
“It won’t take long.” She points up to a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorframe and grins. “You know what that means.”
