“I love ice skating,” Belle told them, “Why don’t you come show me your moves. We can ice skate together!” She led them outside, Greg trailing after them.
“Who’s ready to fry some shit?” Jonathan announced, hoisting a big vat of batter.
“I will literally eat anything if it’s deep-fried,” Merrie said.
“There’s a covered area on the terrace,” I said. “I don’t want to burn down Merrie’s and my house.”
It felt great to say that.
I wrapped an arm around my girlfriend’s waist as we all went outside for the first batch of food.
“I didn’t know your sister ice-skated,” she said as we stood at the railing overlooking the backyard. On the frozen pond in the distance, Belle was showing Greg’s sisters how to do a layback spin.
“If it was anyone other than Greg fucking Svensson, I would say that he had an almost yearning look on his face.”
“We should—”
“Don’t even suggest it,” I said to Merrie, kissing her softly.
“I’m not getting anywhere near either one of them. I do not want to get caught in that nuclear waste dumpster fire.”
“Jingle Bell Rock” rang out from the sound system out of the terrace. Merrie giggled as I danced her around.
The deep fryer popped.
Merrie passed out plates as Morticia dropped the battered calamari into the deep fryer.
“Is it wrong to drink a shot glass of this sauce?” Holly said as she spooned the spicy creamy sauce on her plate in anticipation of the first pieces of fried squid. “Because it feels wrong.”
“It’s Christmas,” Merrie said as Morticia dropped the golden crunchy fried calamari on newspaper. “Go crazy!”
85
Merrie
“Mom!” I said, horrified, as Tina straightened out the large photo of Matt looking like a billion dollars helping me, who looked like a Comic-Con reject into a sleigh. “We can’t have this out.”
“It’s a cute picture,” my mom cooed. She pinched my cheek. “I’m submitting it for the annual photo contest!”
The Christmas tree dress was riding up in the back, and you could see the hole in my tights.
I was struggling with my mom, trying to take the poster down, when the doorbell rang. My guests were here.
“Olivia!” I yelled, seeing my friend standing on the front porch.
“Merry Christmas!” She hugged me. “Wow, this house looks great.”
“It had a very talented architect.” I elbowed her.
“I brought a cheese tray,” she said, hefting it. “I was worried that you wouldn’t have enough food.”
“Ma’am?” A woman in a black catering outfit poked her head in the front door. “Do you want us to bring the food around through the back?”
“Yes, there’s a side entrance under the bridge,” I said, walking outside and pointing around the corner. “There’s a ramp there that might be easier to bring anything inside.”
“I see you don’t need a cheese tray,” Olivia remarked.
“Are you kidding?” I unwrapped a corner of plastic wrap and snagged a slice of Brie. “I always like a cheese tray. Plus, all of Matt’s siblings are here, and they already ate half the food. To be fair,” I amended, “I ate a fair amount, too.”
