Page 69 of Meet Me on Christmas Eve

I looked up from my lap and back up to his face. My eyes might’ve deceived me, but I could swear a flash of longing passed over his face. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, and for a moment I thought he was going to reach out to me. But, instead, he checked his watch.

For whatever reason, this is when I snapped. “Can you stoptimingme for just a moment? I’m trying to pour my heart out to you, you stubborn ass.” And as soon as the words were out, we looked at each other with wide eyes. “Terry, I … sorry, I have literally never done this before.”

Something sparked in his eyes, and we held eye contact. “Ever?” he asked.

“No one else ever made me want to … it’s only ever been you, Terry. I think—no, Iknownow that I’ve always been in love with you. I tried to discard my feelings all those years ago, but I merely buried them. They’re lodged so deep—I fear I’ll never be free.” I took a deep breath. “But now, I don’t want to be free of you.”

“Mariana,” he said, his voice sounding choked. He shook his head, and fear ripped through me.

What if he still walked away?

I couldn’t lose him.

Not again.

“There’s more,” I said quietly, pleading with my eyes for him to listen, to give me a bit more time. “It wasn’t the business, really. It was me. I was … I’ve been struggling with my identity and everything I associate with it.”

“I noticed.” He shifted in his chair again, this time turning his body more to face me. “What’s that really about?”

I opened my mouth and then closed it.

It’s OK, you’re safe. You can trust him. Show him the real you.

“I think I told you a little before that I didn’t have the easiest childhood and grew up in foster care. But what I didn’t tell you is … I grew up dirt poor. I mean that literally. Sometimes we slept on the ground. My mother was well off, but she abandoned us after I was born. And my father—he wasn’t well enough to take care of me, he couldn’t afford to. Ilovedhim. He did his very best.” I stopped for a brief second, wiping a tear that had found its way down my cheek. “I miss him so much, especially at Christmas.”

“I’m sorry, Mariana,” he said softly. “I know how hard it is to lose your parents. I didn’t know it back then, but I do now.”

I tried to swallow, and it was nearly impossible. “I—yeah. He was my everything. When I had nothing.” I wiped another tear falling. “I was ridiculed constantly at school because, well, it was obvious we had nothing. It wasn’t much better in my first few foster homes. My clothes weren’t clean or didn’t fit, I couldn’t get a decent haircut, and so on … you can imagine. Or maybe you can’t, since you grew up in a very different world.” At his raised eyebrows, I continued, “No, I don’t resent you for that. I never did. You were different from the others I’d known. You saw me as a person, not just a poor girl, a foster child, basically an orphan. You didn’t seem to care about my past, my low-class status in the world.”

“Oh, I did care,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “In the sense that I wanted to know all those sides of you. But a few weeks that summer wasn’t enough time, not nearly enough.”

I exhaled, feeling more tears welling up. “Yes, well—I was ashamed. Your family had looked at me with scorn, and then I thought you wanted nothing to do with me when you went home. I’d had a lifetime of feeling like I wasn’t good enough, of feeling shame at who I was. So I decided to change. And that’s why I changed my name and the course of my life. I wanted nothing to do with the old Mari, and I closed myself off to all the things I associated with her. Not just being poor and picked on, but everything—being a human with feelings, spontaneity, joy, love, everything. I tried to be the exact opposite of what I’d been. And I succeeded, somewhat. I shut myself off from feeling, as much as humanly possible, and I transformed myself into what I thought was a successful, sophisticated businesswoman.”

I looked down at my lap and then back to his eyes, intent on mine. “But then you came back into my life. And I … I found myself reverting back to the old Mariana.”

“It scared the hell out of you.”

“Yes.Yes.”

He looked like he was about to speak, so I waited. “What’s changed?”

“Well, other thanyouturning everything on its head? Making me feel all the things I’d tried too hard to squash?” I smiled and then sobered. “Other than that, I met my mother recently. For the first time ever. And if I have anything to say about it, theonlytime ever.”

His eyebrows rose. “Wow. What happened?”

“She looks just like me. And she’s a condescending snob of the highest order. It took just a minute or so in her presence to realize I was in danger of becoming just like her.” I shivered at the thought.

“She sounds awful.”

“She was. But I’m so glad we met because I realized … I don’t want to be anything like her. I can’t. Hazel might’ve helped a little with that.” I offered a weak smile.

He nodded, a patient, open expression having replaced the hardened one from earlier.

“I’m telling you this because—well, I do want you to know me better, but also because it’s a big part of why I believed I couldn’t be with you.” I breathed in, my heart racing. “You fell for the old Mari, and I have spent so many years denying her existence. You made me question everything.”

He stood then and walked over to me, taking my hands to bring me to my feet. “I absolutely did fall for the Mari of ten years ago, but guess what?”

“What?” I managed to say, disoriented by his proximity.

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