Page 57 of When We Were Younger

"I didn't realize that you knew I used to sneak over here at night," I say as I feel my cheeks turn as red as the wine in my glass. Mrs. Hudson chuckles.

"Please, honey. I'm sweet, not stupid. I knew all about you two and your nighttime extracurriculars. Why do you think there were always condoms stocked in my son's bathroom? You two are just lucky I'm not a regular mom, I'm a cool mom." She punctuates the last bit with a sassy cock of her hip, Amy Poehler style.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, we never didanything unsavory in Stephen's room," I lie before downing the rest of my wine. Mrs. Hudson raises an unconvinced eyebrow at me.

"Fine," I concede. "But we never went ‘all the way’ under your roof. That's the God's honest truth." I hold up my fingers, scout's honor style, and Mrs. Hudson laughs and refills my glass.

"Come on, you little menace. It's time to introduce Sadie to the wonder that isHome Alonewhile we wait for the lasagna to finish up."

I follow her to the living room with my glass of wine and cuddle up on the couch next to Stephen. Not too close–there are children and parents present–but close enough to feel his warmth. He slings his arm around my shoulder, and I lean into him as the McAllister family runs around that big house, getting ready for their trip to Paris.

I look around at the glistening lights, the glow of the electric fireplace, Sadie snuggled in her mom's lap while Ivy plays with her hair absentmindedly. Mr. and Mrs. Hudson holding pinkies as they sit side by side. It's a sort of domestic bliss that warms my heart.

Until Kevin wakes up and realizes he's alone, and I come to my own realization. Then my blood runs cold.

This isn't mine. As much as the Hudson's may have been my family once upon a time, they aren't anymore. I'm not the neglected little girl next door anymore. I'm the grown woman who left, who broke their son’s heart. Who waltzed back in here like the last nine years never happened and allowed them all to welcome me backwith open arms, knowing full well that I have no intentions of staying.

None of this is real. I've let myself live in this fantasy world, and now I can't even mourn that this chapter is ending, because it's my choice.

This life, this warmth, this family?

None of this is mine to lose.

But it's a loss I'm already starting to grieve regardless.

32

DOTTIE

Sometime around eleven thirty, the night finally started to wind down.

Christmas lights and the electric fireplace cast a warm glow on the otherwise dark living room.Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeerplays silently on the television, and the air smells of sugar cookie candles whose flames have been blown out. Sadie is tuckered out on the couch with her head in Mr. Hudson's lap. He, too, was asleep on the couch with his head on his own shoulder, slightly snoring. Daisy May is at his feet, snoring right along with him.

Delilah went to sleep about an hour ago–she set an alarm for 3 a.m. so she can wake up and tuck Sadie's presents from Santa under the tree–and Ivy went up with her. Mrs. Hudson followed shortly after, having refused my offers to clean up the kitchen and instead relegating the job to Stephen. He's tucking a pod into the dishwasher now, the rest of the kitchen spotless. Icross the room and hoist myself up on to the island and watch him finish up.

He turns, wiping his hands with a dish towel before tossing it on the counter beside me and making room for himself to stand between my legs. I hook my arms around his neck, and he presses his forehead to mine.

"Tonight was nice," I say, keeping my voice low so as to not wake the sleeping trio behind me.

"It was, but I'm beat. I think Mom must've slipped some melatonin into my hot chocolate, because I'm all kinds of groggy."

"Mmm, I think it might have been the whiskey that's got you groggy, baby.” The term of endearment feels slimy in my mouth now, like a lie I’m telling him, but he doesn’t notice. I smile against his lips as he leans in for a kiss. When he pulls away, I cup his cheek.

"What were you and Ivy doing earlier? When we first got here. She pulled you away real quick." He smirks at me, and I playfully pat his cheek. I'm not suspicious or jealous. He knows that I have no reason to be. Even if Ivy weren't a lesbian, I have no claim to Stephen right now. If he wanted to run away and hookup with someone else while I hung out with his family, he'd have every right.

"We were discussing tattoos. She's going to do some work for me, I think." He shrugs. My eyes widen, and a little flutter of arousal starts to build inside of me. Ivy is a tattoo artist, one of the best in Tennessee. She's tattooed half the country stars that have come out ofNashville in the last ten years. If she's doing some work for him, that means–

"You're getting tattooed?" I ask, raising a brow at him. It's not that it's out of character for him or anything, but I don't know many people who get their first tattoo after the age of twenty-five.

"I'm thinking about it. There's something I've been thinking about a lot lately, and I might be ready to have it permanently etched in my otherwise perfect skin," he winks and runs the back of his hand down his cheek. To be fair, he's been letting me goop him up at night before bed, and even though I thought his skin was pretty damn good a few weeks ago, he certainly has a glow to him now.

"Please tell me you're not thinking about a face tattoo," I say. He shakes his head and pats the middle of his chest.

"I was thinking about something more in this general area. More skin to work with, and I don't have to worry about the poor people of Fox Hole mistaking me with Post Malone on the street."

"Are you going to tell me what you're getting?"

"I think I'd rather just wait until it's done and let you discover it yourself."

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