Page 42 of A Very Addicted Christmas

“Yeah, why not?”

Luna leans forward, eyeing the tartan tablecloth and the candle. “And there’s a feast. AginormousChristmas feast with mac-and-cheese.”

“Now we’re talking,” I say, and I think she smiles more off how I saytalkliketawk.“What do you do—turkey, ham?”

“Christmas Day? Ham.”

“There’s a huge ham,” I tell her. “Massive. Right there.” I point at the center of the table.

She leans forward and smells with closed eyes. “Mmm, pineapple-y.”

“Mashed potatoes.”

“Garlic mashed potatoes,” she amends.

“Girl, get out of my head,” I tease.

We’re both grinning. “Yams,” she says. “The frozen kind. They’re the best. They’re over there.” She motions to a spot near Xander’s chair.

I pretend to slide her the yams. She mimes forking a yam and taking a big bite. With a pretend mouthful, Luna sing-songs, “Delicious.”

“What does Xander like?”

“The rolls. He’s usually in charge of making them because he likes them a perfectly golden color. He’ll stand by the oven like they’re his babies. Incubating.”

I laugh, and I push the rolls towards him.

She heaps more food onto his plate. A good portion of ham, another scoop of yams and potatoes. “There you go, birthday boy.”

“We can’t forget dessert,” I tell her. “You see that cheesecake? Each slice is a different flavor.”

“Mmm,” she moans. “Caramel. Strawberry.”

“Chocolate.”

She shoves the plate to me. “Take a slice.”

I take many slices and stuff my face until she’s laughing, and I’m laughing with her. And we keep building upon our Christmas feast, the table overflowing with gravy, cranberries, a molten chocolate cake, sugar cookies, ice cream, and pizza bites.

We’re digging in, laughing and moaning over the perfectly cooked rolls, and this is the best meal I’ve had all year. Christmas Eve with Luna Hale.

Luna cups a goblet of Fizz Life with two hands, and she asks, “Have you seenHook?”

I chew a grisly part of ham. “Yeah,” I say with a small smile. “Loved that movie as a kid.”

“Yeah…me too.” She shares in my knowing smile.

Eating a pretend feast is the highlight ofHook.Thing is, this isn’t the first time I’ve done this on a holiday. Just the first time I haven’t been alone doing it.

I don’t tell her that.

Seems too deep.

Guilt festers in me a little bit for wanting to be snowed-in, unlike Luna. They’re suffering here, and I’m theonlyperson who would rather stay here than go back home. I know that.

My dad is in Philly. Out of prison.

It’s just better here. Away from him.

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