In her mind, I may as well have.
“Declan,” she begins, her tone scandalized. “Christmas without a tree is like…” She shakes her head, searching for the right words. “It’s like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without the peanut butter and jelly.”
I arch a brow. “So… just bread.”
“Exactly. Sad and pointless, at least when you could have peanut butter and jelly with it. Why haven’t you put up atree? Are you secretly a Grinch? Do you hate Christmas or something?”
“I don’t hate Christmas,” I reply, continuing along the rows of trees. “I’ve been alone for most of my adult life. The only person around to enjoy a tree is me, and I’m perfectly happy without one.”
“You don’t have any family?” She steals a glance at me as I look straight ahead, unsure how we went from picking out a Christmas tree to peeling back the armor I’ve always kept firmly in place. “Apart from Joshua, of course,” she adds quickly.
As if I need a reminder of the reason I can never touch her.
“I have a brother.”
“Are you two not close?”
“We are, I suppose.”
“Then you’re notreallyalone,” she offers softly. “You just choose to be.”
The words hit harder than I expected, and I stop walking once more. I glance at Claire, but she’s examining a tree like she didn’t gut me with a single sentence.
Like she didn’tseeme in a way no one else ever has.
I can’t deny she has a point.
After my mother died, after the accusations and guilt and blame, I told myself it was safer this way. Keep everyone out. Don’t risk being needed. Don’t risk failing someone ever again.
I thought I could survive like that.
But then Claire walks into my life, bright and warm and uncomplicated. She makes it harder to stay numb. Harder to pretend I’ve been content in this quiet, empty life I built.
“What about you?” I clear my throat, desperate for a change of subject. “Are you close to your family?”
“My sister’s my best friend. But don’t tell Dylan.” She winks conspiratorially.
“And your parents?”
“My mom’s great, even if a bit…eccentric at times.”
“What about your dad?”
Claire shrugs, her expression falling. “He left when my mom was eight months pregnant with me.”
“Jesus,” I exhale, unsure what I expected her to say. It wasn’t this.
It takes a special kind of asshole to abandon his kids. I feel like enough of a prick for not being there for Joshua until now, even though I had no idea he even existed. But to walk away from your family?
It’s not that far off from what my father did after Mom died. He may have been there physically, but that was the extent of it. He no longer felt like a father to me.
“I… I’m so sorry, Claire. That’s… He’s a fucking idiot.”
She shrugs again, but it’s tighter this time. “It messed up my sister more. She was six when he left. But me? I never knew him. It’s kind of hard to miss someone you never met.”
I study her face. There’s a flicker there. Something unsaid. She’s not as unaffected as she wants me to believe. I recognize that deflection too well. I’ve spent most of my life doing the same thing.
“My mom always said it was his loss since both of her daughters are awesome.”
