Here we go.
Fuck, I haven’t got anything for her either, and she’s the one letting me stay in her guest room. Not to mention my little sister, who comes along with my baggage, seems to be making herself right at home in her house. “Maybe someone else would like to open their gift?” I suggest, but she shakes her head, excitement evident in her eyes.
“I can’t wait.” I give her a mock-exasperated look but unwrap the gift. Inside is a mug, similar to the countless ones she owns, with the words,You’re my best-tea.
I smile at her, then chuckle. “I love it. Thank you.”
“I knew you would.” She beams.
“Can someone else open one, please?” I ask, feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the attention. I would love to be invisible for just a little while.
Sophia seems to take pity on me when she hands a gift to Clay, and he unwraps it to reveal another mug bearing the words,Could be tea, could be vodka.
He laughs, leaning in to show me. “Our kind of mug, kitten,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my skin. While he’s thanking Sophia, my mind can’t help but wander back to that night at the bar and the drunken promises we made.
The day after, the hangover cuddles here on this couch andthe way he looked at me.I turn to glance up at him, and he’s already gazing at me with his chocolate-brown eyes. I hold my breath, and a smile forms slowly on his lips as his gaze locks on mine, making my chest tingle.
“Thank you, they’re amazing,” I hear Xander say, breaking the spell of the moment. I turn to look and see that he got a set of high-quality pencils from Sophia.
Joshua squeezes my knee, and my gaze flicks to him. I look at him questioningly, but he only manages a forced smile.
Fuck, did he notice?
The gift giving continues, and Joshua receives swimming goggles from Sophia. In return, the guys all gift Sophia a luxurious spa treatment, which makes her squeal with excitement.
I feel increasingly out of place as they hand each other their gifts, and I glance at Chiara. This is what Christmas looks like when you have money, a beautifully decorated home, a festive tree, delicious food, and many nice gifts.
We have never experienced this, not even when our parents were alive. But Chiara doesn’t seem fazed. She laughs and smiles with them, genuinely pleased when she receives a nice makeup set from Sophia and the accompanying brushes from the guys, reminding me of another Christmas from our childhood.
“Carolina,Chiara, come help me set the table!” Mama calls out from the kitchen, where she’s been busy preparing a feast for us all day.
We rush to her side, eager to lend a hand. Mama hands me the plates, and I carefully place them on the table. Chiara arranges the silverware with all the precision a six-year-old can muster. The room is filled with the soft sounds of Italian Christmas songs playing.
My parents always keep our traditions alive, even though I have never been anywhere but New York.
“Mia topolina, mia piccola,state facendo un lavoro meraviglioso,” Mama praises us, ruffling my hair and kissing Chiara’s cheek.
Finally, the table is set, and Mama places a big panettone cake in the center. It’s a special treat only for Christmas Eve, and its sweet, citrusy aroma fills the air.
Papa joins us at the table, and we all gather around. He raises a glass of red wine and proposes a toast. “A Natale, tutto e possibile. ”
We begin our meal, savoring each bite of Mama’s homemade lasagna and crispy fried calamari. Chiara’s eyes light up as she takes her first bite. “It’s so good, Mama!”
Mama smiles, and there is a glint of pride in her eyes. “It’s all made with love,mia piccola.”
After dinner, we move to the living room, where the soft glow of the candles on the Advent wreath dances on the walls. Its evergreen branches give off a festive scent that fills the room with a warm and comforting aroma. Papa hands us both a present wrapped in red Christmas wrapping. “Seems likeBabbo Natale, …” he says with a twinkle in his eye, “… was already here.”
I’m twelve and know Santa isn’t real, but I play along for Chiara’s sake. “Grazie,” I say to Papa, offering a grateful smile as I sit next to Mama with the gift in my lap.
When I tear open the wrapping, my heart skips a beat. Inside, I find a set of paintbrushes, good ones like Mama uses. I’ve longed for brushes like this, and I can’t believe my eyes. I glance over at Chiara, who is eagerly unwrapping her own set of brushes.
“So we can paint our masterpieces all together,” Mama whispers, pulling me into a side hug.
Xander gently squeezes my feet,pulling me from the past and prompting me to look up at him. He tilts his chin in my direction, silently asking if I’m okay. I simply shrug, my gaze returning to the mason jar and mug in my lap.
Joshua seems to have noticed me zoning out, too, only he’s not willing to let it go. He lifts my chin with his finger, searching my eyes brimming with tears.
“What’s wrong, my Carolina?” he whispers, stroking away a tear that escaped from the corner of my eyes.
