“Merry Christmas, boys.”
“Merry Christmas, Mom.”
“Merry Christmas, Karen. Thanks for inviting me.”
“Please. I would never let you spend the day alone now that your parents have gone off to the West Coast.” I smile at her, handing off the bag of presents as she reaches for them. “Now, would you like to open gifts first, or do breakfast? I have a pitcher of mimosas ready.”
“How about some mimosas and presents?” I ask, toeing off my boots and shrugging out of my coat.
“I like that plan,” Ollie agrees, hanging up his coat and scarf.
I toss my jacket on the bench and get the side-eye from my mom. The one that wonders why I can’t be more like Ollie.
“I’m surprised Ollie hasn’t rubbed off on you more.”
I can’t answer, because Ollie does for me.
“No matter how long I’ve known Hunter, that is the one thing he won’t change. It’s okay—I love him just the way he is.”
He presses a kiss to my cheek and follows my mom into the kitchen.
Does he realize what he just said? That he loves me just the way I am?
Fuck. So much for trying to keep a lid on my feelings today. By the time I’m coming into the kitchen, I’m being shooed back into the living room, a drink getting shoved in my hand.
“I have presents for both of you that I want you to open at the same time.”
The logs crack with the flames in the fireplace, spreading warmth through the living room. Snow is hanging on after the blizzard last week.
It’s the perfect cozy morning.
Sipping on the mimosa, I smile when I realize it’s pretty much straight champagne with a splash of orange juice. Just how my mom likes them.
“What’d you get us?” Ollie asks, setting his glass down and taking his box. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”
She waves him off as he neatly opens his package. “I was not going to let you go home empty-handed. I’m glad these arrived in time. I was worried.”
I’m tearing into my package next to Ollie and bark out a laugh at the sight that greets me.
“Oh my God, Mom.” I cringe as I pull them out. “I can’t believe you did this.”
It’s a pair of red striped pajamas covered in candy canes and little Ollie faces that have Santa hats on them.
“Look at Ollie’s.” She claps, her face exuberant.
“These are wonderful, Karen,” he says. “I love them.”
His are exactly like mine, except they have my face on them.
“You don’t have to wear them today, but you could always wear them tonight, or even tomorrow around the house if you want to. But definitely next year, you both have to wear them over.”
“Does that mean you’re getting us a new set every year?” Ollie asks.
That same sinking feeling in my gut returns. One that swirls with the alcohol now.
Next year we won’t be dating. I don’t want to look back at this Christmas and think of how much fun this day was only to be back in the friend zone with Ollie.
I don’t know if I can handle that.
