Page 85 of The Christmas You Crash

Mom

Oh, yeah? What are you girls up to today?

Dammit. I’m not a great liar.

Me

I wanted to see that new rom-com that just came out in the theaters, so I dragged my roommate along with me.

Mom

That sounds like fun, sweetie. Just one question?

What’s up?

If you’re out at a movie, why is your car here?

Three rapid knocks on my apartment door have me shrieking. I press a palm to my racing heart. “Shit.”

A familiar voice cuts through my moment of panic. “Alexis Genevieve Cross, I know you’re in there. I heard you scream.”

Well played, Mom. Well played.

Head hanging, I shuffle through the apartment and steel myself with one deep breath. And then I open the door to let my mother in.

Kelly Cross sweeps in with her blonde, shoulder-length hair perfectly styled in loose waves, a full face of tastefully done makeup, and her hazel eyes narrowed on me the way only a mother can. She looks good, but she always does. She may be fifty-two, but I swear the woman doesn’t look a day over forty. I can only hope I inherit her genes. She dyes her hair to maintain the blonde and ward off the grays she occasionally complains about, but even if she let them grow in, they wouldn’t detract from her beauty.

I’m happy to see her. I am. Unfortunately for my mom, I’m also living up to Ryder’s nickname for me.

“What are you doing here, Mom?” I stick my head out of the apartment door and into the hallway, looking for Jeff. My shoulders sag with relief when I don’t see or hear him. “Where’s Jeff?”

Shrugging out of her cherry-red pea coat, my mom rolls her eyes. “He’s at home, watching some game. You know how I feel about sports, so I had to get out of the house. And since I haven’t seen or heard from my daughter since Christmas, here I am.”

Shit. Has it really been that long? Guilt wiggles through my gut like a handful of earthworms. When my mom drapes her coat over the back of the couch, I close the distance between us and pull her into a hug. Her hair muffles my voice when I say, “Sorry, Mom. I’ve been busy.”

“Sure,” she says wryly. “And it has nothing to do with my boyfriend?”

I so don’t want to talk about Jeff right now. My mom deserves to be loved, and even though I don’t like how they met, the man seems to make her happy. I can even admit he’s nice.Despite his awkward attempts to play dad. I roll my eyes before pulling away from our hug so she doesn’t see.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady.”

Jesus. Does she have eyes in the back of her head? Are all moms practitioners of the dark arts, and that’s what allows them to know what their children are up to at all times, even when said children are trying to be sneaky? Grinning sheepishly, I pull away. “Sorry.”

Mom sighs, her cheeks twitching as she fights a smile. “It’s okay, Lexi. I just miss you.”

“I know. I miss you too.” I move into the kitchen. “Tea?”

“Sure, sweetie.”

We fall into silence while I fill the kettle and put it on the stove. Readying two mugs with peppermint tea bags, I turn back to my mom, who has settled in at our little dining table. “So, how was Christmas with Jeff and his family?”

A genuine smile overtakes my mom’s face. She practically lights up. “It was great, actually. His sister and her husband were there with their kids. They have a boy and a girl about your age. You’ll really like them. And Jeff got me the prettiest little necklace.” She gently tugs at a white gold chain around her neck, revealing a diamond pendant tucked beneath the collar of her cream-colored sweater.

“Wow,” I say. “It’s really pretty, Mom.” She beams. “Sorry I wasn’t there.”

Mom grabs my hand when I sit across from her and smiles ruefully. “No need to apologize. I know it’s strange. Though I do hope you give Jeff a chance at some point.” Her hazel eyes go distant. “I love him, you know? And he really loves me, Lexi. I forgot what it felt like to have someone love me like that.”

My heart squeezes. My mom did a good job putting on a brave face and hiding the worst of her loneliness from me as a kid. But now, as an adult? I no longer see my childhoodthrough rose-colored lenses. For all intents and purposes, my mom was a single parent. Sure, my dad paid the bills and made enough money that we didn’t lack for anything, but he was never present. He didn’t tuck me in past the age of five or so, didn’t kiss boo-boos or make lunches. He didn’t do any of the mental and emotional labor. And he neglected my mom in every way, outside of his financial provision.

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