Page 199 of Accidentally Under Your Tree

She tilted her head saying without saying,What the fuck?

"Not likethat," I rambled on.

Jim's eyebrows shot up.

"You know, not likethat."

"Yes, son, I believe I know."

"Yeah,youknow."

"Oh my God," Rose groaned, her palm pressed to her forehead.

"Why did you emphasize 'you' like that?" Lizzy asked.

And lord help me, there was the sweetest affection set in her warm eyes. It was the lifeline I needed to close my mouth—to stop digging deeper into the humiliating hole I was about six-feet deep in.

"If I kiss you, will you stop talking?" Rose had already rounded the kitchen island. Placing her hands on both sides of my face, she turned my head toward her and away from Lizzy.

Then her tightly closed mouth was on mine.

And it was…not good.

eleven

Lizzy

Five nights before Christmas

I thought Rose and Will kissing would be painful because of jealousy, and it was. My sister's lips pressed to his brought out a possessiveness I hadn't felt. But it was more painful for completely different reasons. They didn't just look like they'd never kissed one another; they looked like they'd never kissedanyone.

Their movements were stiff and jerky. First, they jammed their faces together. Then they pulled away too far apart, before bopping back together. It was no less embarrassing than Will's rambling and, at least, that had been cute.

This was not cute.

If I hadn't already kissed him and knew exactly how hot it was. This display would convince me to never let his mouth touch mine.

It wasn't just the kiss that was unnatural. I hadn't made such an instantaneous and stark connection with anyone. Ever. Pretending to have just met was like denying an instinct.

Rose lowered to the stool next to him. Our little group hovering in the kitchen avoided eye contact, as if we’d shared in a trauma.

I scraped at the dregs of my mind, searching for anything to say—a change of subject, a random thought,anything.

"I'm gonna see if your mom is up." Dad hurried out of the room, his mug of coffee gripped in one hand.

I ignored how unusual it was to speak directly to Rose after so many years of silence. "If you want to convince anyone this is legit, don't do that again."

Shaking her head at the countertop, Rose agreed, "I don't think either of us wants to repeat that."

Will's eyebrows rose toward his hairline. "No, thank you."

The basement of the Methodist Church was half classrooms and one large gathering room. It was the size of a small gymnasium with gleaming tile that reflected the fluorescent lights overhead. Along the cinderblock walls was a row of plain pine trees, donated by a local orchard. The space smelled the same as it did every single year. A strange savory scent, as if so many luncheons, birthday parties, weddings and funeral receptions had baked the aroma of pulled pork into the walls. Add a dash of cinnamon air fresheners and pine and the combination wasn't unappealing. But it was strange.

Mom and Rose had stationed me next to their tree of choice. It was a good foundation for their vision, according to Mom. Then they'd dashed up the stairs to the car, dragging Will along. He slowly descended into my line of sight, a box of feathers and twigs almost completely covering his face.

"Follow the sound of my voice," I called into the vacant room.

I could hear his smile, even hidden. "Marco."

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