Page 1 of His Off-Limits Christmas Gift

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RACHEL

Some people loved the holidays. Others couldn’t stand it.

I fell in the middle. I wasn’t a grinch, grumbling at all the décor and fanfare that heralded the end of the year. At least, I wasn’t that badyet. My tolerance ran in the middle, where I could plaster a smile on my face through the usual gatherings and events and still count down the minutes until I could be free.

This year, January couldn’t come fast enough.

Sitting at the kitchen counter, I zoned out as I stared at the calendar on the wall. Mom chattered on and on and on, talking to Mrs. Jones, our neighbor. More plans were laid. Other ideas for additional ways to celebrate were being brainstormed.

Yet, on every single block of the calendar behind her, December was full. Multiple jotted-down reminders were scrawled on the surface.

I loved my family. I truly did. But it wasn’t ever justus. Living next door to the Jones family ensured that it was always a doubled-up experience. The four of them with the four of us. Only with their oldest son away in the service and my older brother working in New York, it funneled down the families to three and three.

Mom and Dad with me. And Mr. and Mrs. Jones with their son—my ex.

“Oh! I heard that they set up new selfie stations at that hot cocoa stand, too,” Mom said with glee, pacing idly as she talked to her best friend of thirty years. “Rach and Kyle would looksocute posing at them.”

I bit back a groan, sinking my face into my hands and slumping over the counter.

“I’m sure they’ll be over their little tiff from Thanksgiving any day now,” Mom said, either oblivious to my defeat to gravity at her words or stubborn to believe that Kyle and I would get back together.

We won’t be. Accept it and move on.

I was trying to. Being dumped isn’t easy, but to have it happen during the start of the holiday season, caught in the middle of our neighboring holiday-fanatic families? It was hell on earth.

“I bet we could make a spa day out of it,” Mom said. “We can take Rachel to get all dolled up. Who knows, maybe these could be the photos we use for engagement announcements soon.”

Now I did groan. I let the sound of utter dismay leak from my mouth as I pushed to stand and exit. I couldn’t stomach another word of this crap.

Sure, I was heartbroken. It sucked to be rejected, no matter the circumstances, but this was just cruel.

Kyle was my childhood best friend. Literally, he was the golden child and boy next door. He was my high school sweetheart. Mrs. Jones and my mother predicted that we’d be a couple since the day we were taking our first steps.

But over turkey and pumpkin pie last week, he got quieter and quieter. Thanksgiving was tense. We argued and quarreled more than usual over petty things, and that wasn’t like us. At first, I chalked it up to the strains of long-distance dating. Hewas off at college further from our small hometown of Rockton, Connecticut. Worries that he’d been cheating or straying struck me.

It wasn’t that. He’d simply realized that he was gay. With that caveat, I tried to be more sympathetic about the breakup. When he asked me not to tell anyone, when he explained he wasn’t ready to come out to his family, though, that was where things got dicey.

No one in our families could believe that we were over. They all hung on to hopes of a grand reconciliation. Mom and Mrs. Jones likely had a whole battle plan of matchmaking us back together, with visions of a freaking engagement in mind.

Every time I was pressured to explainwhywe broke up, I could only claim something vague like,oh, we just want different thingsin life.

It was true. Kyle did want something very different from me or any other woman. As far as an explanation went, though, it didn’t appease the families who’d machinated our being together for so long.

Without thinking about it, I escaped to my bedroom. It was too rainy and chilly to trek outside. A stroll through Rockton usually calmed me. Abundant woods and parkland surrounded us, and I could follow any number of trails through the terrain to get away for a moment to relax and space out. Not today. I pushed open my bedroom door just as a boom of thunder rattled the ground.

A thunderstorm on the first of December?It seemed unlikely. Improbable. But not impossible, like my getting back together with Kyle would be.

I didn’t have peace for long. Mom wouldn’t have missed my groan and exit from the kitchen, leaving my just-brewed hot tea cooling on the counter.

Her footsteps sounded behind me on the stairs, and I sighed as I slumped onto my bed. The door remained open, because why bother to close it when she’d just knock to come in? I wasn’t a teenager anymore. I wouldn’t stoop to being a brat and slam it. The fastest way to get rid of her was to face her and deal with it.

“Rachel?” She knocked on the open door anyway. Her tone was curious, but it also held a note of impatience and frustration.

“What?” I replied, not bothering to lift my face from where it had fallen down on my pillow.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

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