Page 12 of Love Letters to Christmas

Pulling her attention off her computer, Ceres faces him, threads of ecstasy glistening on her face. “Femgoth boy?”

“Femgothfairyboy,” he confirms.

When Ceres faces forward again, she’s smiling and fiddling with her padlock necklace.

I swear. They’re so cute in a “made for each other” way.

Makes me want to join a nunnery, because I’ll never have whatever it is they do.

I say, “It’sMay, Ceres. May. I’ve been here for a day short of a month, and everything is so…sonice. I’ve yet to screw it all up. No one is mad at me, ever, which gives me anxiety. My savings is steadily growing, which also gives me anxiety. Everything is amazing and I’m sohappy, which just results inanxiety.” I cover my face with my hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should be grateful. Instead, I’m anxious and afraid. I want to be excited about this not-date, but I can’t stop thinking that I’m going to ruin everything I have by wantingmore. I…” I hate saying this with Mars sittingright there, but it’s impossible to pry these two apart these days. “IloveBrian. I love him. I can’t…” My chest hurts. “I can’t even express how deeply I love this man.” Tears bead in my eyes. “It’s not just an infatuation and obsession over the memory of an angel anymore. Brian is so…kind. He’s the sun.” My voice breaks. “He’s…the sun. I’ve been freezing without him. I didn’t realize how much.”

Ceres glances my way and arches a brow. “I don’t know how to help you with a sunshine male lead. You’re desperately out of my genre with your sunshine/sunshine on top of a she-falls-first trope. What are you supposed to do? Confess? First? Risking rejection instead of trying to escape from his fervent and constant displays of bone-breaking affection—and also, possibly, his basement?” Her eyes narrow. “Can’t relate.”

Yeah, I know you can’t, you darling lunatic. “He bought us matching outfits,” I say.

Mars cuts his eyes toward me, allowing a dry smile to possess him. “Wow. How verynot in loveof him.”

“Brian and Jupiter might need a support group,” Ceres offers.

Mars begins, “I agr—”

“To support me. Since I could not have either of them. Mywoes abound.”

Mars’s eye twitches while Ceres smiles, proud of herself.

If I could shoot myself, I think it would be less painful than whatever third wheeling I am being subjected to…

It’s nice to see Ceres so happy after years of seeing her working alone in her house and trying, desperately, to understand what it is I see in Brian, who happens to be the stark opposite of her type. I’m glad for her. I am. I just wish I weren’t also jealous.

How does someone who doesn’t leave her house more than once a month wind up in a storybook romance? It’s not exactly fair. And I hate myself for thinking like this. I hate myself for not just beinggratefuland counting these many, many blessings. I hate, hate, hate myself for the way I’m behaving and the way my brain isn’t satisfied with something so. unbelievably. perfect.

Why can’t I just be…happy? With what I have? With the peace? With…this environment that is so soft, and gentle, and kind?

Why am I waiting for everything to break? Why am I searching for somethingwrongto grumble about?

It…really leaves me wondering if things with my parents were actually as bad as I made them out to be…or if I just can’t stop myself from complaining loud enough that other people go up in arms for me.

Maybe their negativity was never actually the issue.

Maybe mine was.

Softly, I say, “What am I supposed to do?”

“Have you tried explaining that you’re willing to bear his mail-loving babies?” Ceres asks.

My face implodes. “No. I can’t say that I have.”

“Hm.” She types something on her computer, keys clacking. “Maybe start there.”

I think that starting there would kill me. But it wouldn’t evenbe a merciful death. “I’m serious, Ceres. I don’t…I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to live like this, always wanting more. I want to be happy with what I have. I want to feel…safe. Secure. I—” My voice cracks. “I don’t know what I want. Everything. Nothing. I just…don’t know.”

Deathly serious, Ceres focuses her attention on me and softens her tone in a way that suggests she’s pouring effort into the interaction. “Sweetheart, you’ve left an abusive household. Feeling safe and secure is going to take time. You’re not used to it. You’re used to people who use good emotions to manipulate you. You’re used to cleaning up messes that aren’t yours. You’re used to an entirely different way of life. And that doesn’t mean you aren’t grateful right now. It just means you don’t yet believe it’s actually happening. You’re in a state of too-good-to-be-true. Because, let’s face it, literally none of your behavior has changed. You’re still calling me to talk about how much you adore Brian. Now, you’re just facing the guilt of adoring him in close proximity while the rest of your life isn’t garbage.”

I…guess that’s not entirely untrue. But. “Adoring Brian from afar never felt attainable. I was little more than a fan fainting over a movie star. Things are…so different now. So much more complicated.”

“So much more real. So much more in reach.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m deluding myself into thinking that something between us could be possible.”

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