“Your family’s incredible,” she whispers. “It feels… warm here.”
“They really like you.” I turn slightly, brushing my cheek against her hair.
She huffs a quiet laugh. “Your Nan tried to feed me a fifth mince pie.”
“That’s how she says she loves someone.”
“Well,” she says, nudging her nose against my shoulder, “I guess she and I have that in common.”
Alex tilts her head up, eyes meeting mine, softer than the lights strung across the tree. “I mean it,” she murmurs. “Being here with you… it feels like something I never knew I wanted until now.”
I swallow, my thumb tracing the back of her hand. “You’re getting sappy.”
She grins, leaning in closer, her voice dropping low. “Only for you.”
“Good. I like it when you’re sappy.” I laugh under my breath, unable to stop smiling.
“Yeah?” she asks, nose brushing mine for the smallest, sweetest second.
“Yeah.”
We sit there tangled together, sharing the same breath, the same warmth, the same quiet truth neither of us bothers to hide.
It’s warmer than any Christmas I’ve ever had.
ALEXANDRA
New Year’s at our house isn’t a holiday, it’s a survival sport. The dining table looks like it’s preparing for war (lechon, pansit, lumpia towers that could kill a man if they toppled), kids are already waving sparklers indoors like they’re lightsabers, and my uncles are fighting over who gets the last San Miguel beer.
And then there’s my girlfriend. Mom had her glued to her side half the night like they were long-lost best friends. At one point I walked into the kitchen and found the two of them gossiping heads bent together, laughing at God-knows-what. I swear, Mom looked at her with more fondness than she’s ever looked at me. Traitor.
Meanwhile, I’m outside with Archer and a handful of our cousins, all of us crouched over a chaotic tangle of wires like we’re defusing a bomb instead of setting up New Year’s fireworks. Archer is insisting he “definitely knows which one is supposed to go first,” while I’m fairly certain at least two of the rockets are pointing in completely the wrong direction.
I’m pretending to focus, but Olivia’s laugh carries over from the veranda. I can hear her talking to Mom and the aunties, answering their rapid-fire questions with that gentle charm she doesn’t even realize she has.
Archer nudged me with his elbow, nearly making me drop a whole Roman candle. “Stop staring like you’re about to propose to her under the parol.”
“I wasn’t staring,” I lied, very unconvincingly.
He smirks, that ridiculous twin-smirk I’ve perfected over years of sibling rivalry. “I’m happy for you, you know.”
I squint at him. “Youare?”
“Absolutely,” he says, looping a fuse wire like he’s defusing a bomb. “You’ve been living in your head forever, Lex. Always so… cautious. And now? You’re actually letting yourself care. Not just overthinking it, not just hiding. You’re… out there.”
I snort. “Out there? You make it sound like I’m jumping off Everest.”
“You basically are,” he fires back. “And somehow, I’m proud of you anyway.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the small smile tugging at my lips. “Wow, that’s… painfully sentimental for you, Archer.”
He nudges me again. “Hey, I’m allowed one heartfelt twin moment, geez. And don’t act like you didn’t need it.”
I shake my head, trying to push down the warmth rising in my chest. “I just… don’t want to mess it up.”
“You won’t,” he says, and this time his voice softens. “We’ve all known Olivia since the academy. Everyone loves her—hell, she’s practically part of the family already.”
I nod, chewing the inside of my cheek, the truth settling heavier than I expected. “I know,” I murmur. “And… I really like her. More than I thought I would.”
