Page 38 of Holiday Hostilities

The spoon is halfway to my lips, my eyes locked on a text notification from a colleague saying that they need the Christmas hours to pay off the “massive inflatable Santa” they’rebuying this year, when Aaron suddenly stands up, leans across the table, and whacks my spoon right out of my hand.

The cutlery goes flying, hitting the gorgeous, light accent wall with a loud clank and splashing a spray of sticky beige gloop all over the place.

I blink in shock.

“The wallpaper!” I cry, dismayed mostly for the decor and not the sudden loss of my spoon.

“What the hell, man?” Jake jumps up and lurches towards Aaron, like he’s going to do… something. Goodness knows what, but something. I doubt he knows himself, because he looks confused as can be.

Aaron doesn’t spare my brother a glance. He simply sticks out a big hand, effectively holding Jake at arm’s length as he pins me with his gaze.

“You almost kill yourself right here at the table and you’re worried about my damn wallpaper?” he demands. His face is like thunder, and I notice he’s pale beneath his golden complexion.

The room has gone totally silent, all eyes turned towards us.

My eye twitches. “I… What?”

Aaron opens his mouth, looking exasperated, but before he can say anything, Jimmy pipes up. “Oh, would you look at that. Olivia won!”

I look down at my bowl, which is full of the goopy substance that I now realize is rice porridge.

And there it is, clearly exposed by my spoonful: the almond.

The almond I’d totally forgotten about.

The almond I’m totally allergic to.

Jake’s face turns ashen and he swears under his breath. His body language changes as he puts a grateful hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “Woah. Thanks, man. Good catch.” He turns to address the table. “She’s allergic.”

My face grows hot.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” I say, feeling like a goldfish in a bowl, only stupider.

“Oh my gosh, Olivia, I didn’t know! I’m so sorry!” Lena wrings her hands, looking distraught.

“No. It was my own fault,” I tell her with a shake of my head. My cheeks are on fire from the near miss and also from the embarrassment of causing such a commotion. “I have an EpiPen in my bag, anyway, so nothing terrible would have happened…”

It would have just been really awkward. Even more awkward than this.

Aaron’s still looking at me, those green eyes studying my face intently.

I want to thank him. Right after the floor swallows me up. Or I run away. Anything to stop everyone else staring at me.

When Aaron speaks, I expect him to say something snarky, or admonish me for being so idiotic. Both would be entirely deserved.

Instead, he asks, “Are you okay, Olivia?”

His tone catches me off guard. It’s soft, low, almost achy in its quality. A world away from his usual faux-charm-inflected dickery. He sounds genuinely concerned for me.

I swallow, nod. “Fine. Fine. Uh, sorry for the ruckus, everyone.”

A look of relief flits over Aaron’s handsome features, and he grins.

“She was just trying to get me to perform CPR on her,” Aaron quips, and his words have the magic effect of breaking the somber tension in the room.

“I’d rather the anaphylaxis,” I retort.

Everyone laughs, and my heart calms a little more as I shoot Aaron a grateful smile.

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