“A kiss under the mistletoe,” John says as if he’s asking someone to pass the salt.
Panic rises, and my brain short-circuits. Somehow, I keep breathing so at least I don’t pass out on the kitchen floor. That might hurt, though it would get me out of this situation.
John smiles at my mother, then turns to me, his eyes asking a silent question.Are you okay with this?
I’m not, but I give a small nod, my heart pounding so loud I’m sure everyone can hear it.
Slowly, giving me every opportunity to back out, John leans in. His lips meet mine in a kiss that’s soft, sweet, and completely unexpected. It’s nothing like the awkward pecks I’ve experienced under mistletoe before. This feels…real.
When we part, I’m breathless, my mind reeling. John’s eyes are dark, intense, and I almost forget this is all pretend.
“Oh, how romantic.” Mom claps her hands together. “Now come on, you lovebirds. Picture time.”
As we go into the living room, John clasps my hand with his and squeezes gently. A spark of hope, something I haven’t felt in a long time, emerges.
Hope.
Maybe this Christmas won’t be a complete disaster.
But as soon as I see Rachel and Jake sitting in the prime spot on the couch while Mom fusses with the camera settings, I know that’s only wishful thinking.
“Abby, you and John sit on the floor in front of Rachel and Jake.” Mom’s tone leaves no room for argument.
Great. I’ll be eye-level with Rachel’s designer boots. How fitting.
Dad adjusts his Santa hat to get it to the right angle.
As we settle into position, John slides his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. It’s for show, even if my heart does a little dance.
Mom aims the camera. “Smile, everyone.”
I plaster on my best “everything is fine” grin, the one I’ve perfected over the years. John, however, seems genuinely happy, his smile reaching his eyes in a way that makes his dimple appear and my stomach fill with butterflies.
I must be hungry. That’s the only explanation for my reaction, right?
“Oh, wait.” Rachel holds her hands up to stop Mom from taking the photograph. “My hair’s a mess. Jake, hon, fix it for me?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes as Jake smooths Rachel’s perfect hair. She must have him on a short leash, given he cheated on me with her. And everyone who reads Reddit knows the phraseonce a cheater always a cheater. I’d be worried if I were her.
John leans closer, his breath tickling my ear. “If her hair gets any more perfect, it might achieve sentience and take over the world.”
I giggle, earning me a sharp look from Rachel. It’s all I can do not to stick out my tongue at her.
“Something funny, Abby?” Her sickly-sweet tone makes me want to vomit.
“Oh, you know.” I match her saccharine voice. “Enjoying the holiday spirit and John’s wit, of course.”
Rachel’s eyes narrow.
Mom whistles to get everyone’s attention. “Say, merry Christmas.”
As we do, the camera flashes, capturing what I’m sure will be a perfectly imperfect family photo. As we disperse, I catch Dad looking at me with an unreadable expression. It disappears when he turns to help Mom with the camera, but it unsettles me.
“Well, that was fun.” John helps me to my feet. “Do we get participation trophies?”
I snort, grateful for his ability to lighten the mood. “In this family? Only if you’re Rachel.”
As if on cue, her voice carries across the room. “Oh, Jake, remember that time we won the three-legged race at my company picnic? We make such a perfect team.”
