Page 33 of Love Letters to Christmas

Brian’s outline shifts, and his lamp light blisters my eyes a moment later. Hopelessly handsome pushed up on one elbow and looking at me, Brian says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Squinting through the pain at beautiful man chest, I whisper, “No…it’s fine… Is everything okay?”

It’s two. The clock says two. We wrote letters together, then we got ready for bed, and now it’slate. I should be sleeping, not scalding my retinas in an effort to drink in a man’s body.

What is wrong with me?

Brian settles, pillowing his bent arm beneath his head. “Everything’s fine. I’m just having trouble sleeping. You too, huh?”

Ahahaha. “Yeah. A little bit.” I dare to roll toward him as my eyes adjust better to having the light back on. He’s…so…everything.

“Unfamiliar beds.” He chuckles. “Almost makes me wish we were sharing, because then at least we’d have something familiar in reach.” Brilliant green eyes find me as my entire body blossoms crimson.

My Brian isn’t suggesting… He didn’t just… Hewouldn’t…

“I’ve always admired your handiwork with wax,” he says as though I am not struggling to maintain some basic level of function.

Choked, I stammer, “O-oh? Th-thank you.”

“I apologize that my meager kit didn’t have more for you to play with.”

I apologize that I keep staring at your bare shoulder. “That’s all right. I’m glad I was able to seal my letter at all. I love that you keep a wax kit on you.”

His smile softens. “Never know when you might need to seal a formal invitation.” He laughs again, shifts his position so he’s on his back, and stares at the ceiling. “It’s important to always be prepared for any eventuality…even falling in love.”

Falling in…

It becomes very difficult to swallow as I grip my blankets tight against my panicking chest.

Right.

Yes.

His kitdidhave a selection of blue wax beads, didn’t it? It’s very good to always be prepared for stuff like…that.

Tormented, I murmur, “I suppose so.”

“I have lunch scheduled with my parents tomorrow, at Sweet & Salty.”

Right. Yes. I know this. He mentioned it while we were getting ready for this trip. I was planning to be annoying and call Ceres the day after her wedding to see if she wanted to leave her house twice in a row and spend time with me instead of her new husband. But. More likely. I was going to stay here and play free games on my phone.

“Why don’t you come with me?” he asks.

My brain turns off, shutting down ninety-three percent of all necessary operations for survival. “You…want me to interrupt lunch with you and your parents?”

“You’re not an interruption.”

“You haven’t seen them for months. I’m sure they’d love to spend quality time alone with you.”

“They love people. They’d love to meet you.”

I’m being invited to meet Brian’s parents.Brian’s parents. The people whomightbecome my parents someday, assuming I can fix my stupid self up enough to enter into a healthy relationship with their son. Against plentiful better judgment, I say, “S-sure. Sounds…fun.”

Brian sends me a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, then he reaches for the lamp. “Great! Night.”

And the room returns to darkness.

I have no expectations. None. Zero. Nada. I have in no way mentally prepared for what I am experiencing here. Which is, of course, Brian’s mother standing beside me while Brian and his father hug in front of a register manned by the sun god Apollo.

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