Page 32 of Big Pitch Energy

“Go put on some Christmas carols.”

I went into the living room and turned on the stereo. When it comes to Christmas, she likes things the old-fashioned way, so no playlists are allowed. I grabbed a CD, popped it into the tray, and hit play.

With the smooth sound of Johnny Mathis filling the air, we moved around each other in a familiar dance, the way we have since I was tall enough to reach the counter. While she seasonedthe chicken with her usual blend of herbs, I assembled a small charcuterie board of prosciutto, salami, aged provolone, olives, and just enough effort to make it look like I knew what I was doing.

After Mom slid the chicken into the oven, she started layering the lasagna. I peeled and cubed the potatoes, dropped them into a pot of water, and set it on the stove. Most of the veggie prep was already done, so when I asked what she needed next, she handed off garlic bread duty.

I mixed up a batch of garlic butter, sliced the Italian loaf, and slathered it on before setting the bread aside to bake. By then, Mom was elbow-deep in ground meat, spices, parmesan, and eggs, that she’d magically transform into meatballs.

“You know only three of us are eating, right?”

She shrugged.

“We’ll have leftovers for the week.”

When the doorbell rang, I wiped my hands on a towel and opened the door to Hope, holding a bottle of wine, a small potted rosemary tree decorated with tiny red bows, and two gift bags dangling from her fingers.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, stepping inside. “Mmm, it smells incredible in here.”

She wore a deep red sweater that hugged her curves, paired with black leggings and ankle boots. Her hair was half-pulled up with a gold clip, the rest falling in loose waves around her shoulders.

“Merry Christmas. You look beautiful.”

I gave her a quick kiss and she handed me the wine and plant.

“Thank you.” She set the bags underneath the tree next to the other presents. “Mmm, it smells incredible in here.”

Mom peeked around the kitchen door.

“Hope! I’m so glad you can join us.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” she said as we walked into the kitchen.

We hung out in the kitchen, chatting as we put together the rest of dinner. Hope took charge of setting the table, sneaking bites here and there between her tasks. The easy back-and-forth made the time fly, and before we knew it, the food was ready.

Dinner was perfect—rich, comforting, and way too much. We passed dishes, poured wine, and laughed about nothing in particular. Once we were all stuffed, we carried the dirty plates into the kitchen and set them in the sink. I told Mom I’d do the dishes, but instead of relaxing in the living room, she and Hope settled at the island.

I loaded the dishwasher, popped in a soap pod, and hit start before settling at the sink to hand-wash the bigger items. As I scrubbed a stubborn pan, I glanced over my shoulder to see them leaning in close over Hope’s phone. Based on what they were saying, I figured she was sharing pictures of her parents on their cruise.

Having Hope here for the holiday doesn’t just feel right, it feels inevitable, like every choice I’d ever made has led me to this. This connection doesn’t feel temporary. It feels real and exactly where I need to be. And as bizarre as it sounds since we just met a month ago, I’m all in.

Hope

“I was sohappy to hear you’re going to Leo’s wedding with Sam.”

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Sam’s teammates and their families are really wonderful people. I’m sure you’re going to have a great time getting to know them.” Liz chuckled. “And make sure you get Sam out on the dance floor. He’s an amazing dancer.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Sam set the last pot on the drying rack. He shut off the faucet and dried his hands on the towel hanging by the sink. A big smile spread across his face as he glanced my way.

“Just be sure to wear closed-toe shoes in case I step on your feet,” he teased.

I grinned back.

“Since we’re heading up north and it’s December, you can be sure my toes will be covered.”

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