Page 35 of Love Letters to Christmas

“Withme,” Brian clarifies.

“Congratulations on the nuptials we weren’t invited to,” Scott provides, eyesscathingwhere his tone remains flighty and free of all malice. “How heartbreaking that you’d give up the chance to mail wedding invitations marked with Amelia’s gift.”

Now I’m blushing, too.

And I think having a bunch of sunshines in this small cafe lobby is starting to up the temperature to a breaking point.

“Could you and Mom stop trying to make us uncomfortable? Amelia’s a friend.”

“Nonsense.” Scott sniffs. “Look at her. She’s gorgeous. You’re telling me you both share the same living space, but you’ve not put a letter in an envelope yet?”

“Dad.” Brian crosses his arms. “Don’t be vulgar.”

“I’m just voicing what everyone’s thinking.”

Lucia nods, agreeing, so I shoot a look at Sol, the only other person here right now, just after rush hour. He smiles at me, which doesn’t confirm that he was thinking about any letters being enveloped.

“Are we going to order food or not?” Brian asks.

“Don’t think you can change the subject, young man. You’ve never introduced us to a lady friend before, and certainly never one you’ve been living with.” Scott’s hands return to his pockets as he lounges, looking elsewhere, half pouting. “I’m gonna need some explanations before my appetite returns.”

Helping nothing and no one, Lucia plants a hand at her heart. “Your poor father. Imagine learning that your son is going steady with someone likethis.”

Brian’s brows dip, unamused. Drier than I knew he was capable of, he outright ignores his parents and approaches the front counter. “Hey, Sol.”

“Hi, Brian. How’s it going back home?”

Smiling, Brian plants an elbow on the counter and shrugs.“Pretty normal. Will misses you.”

Sol laughs, running his fingers through his Adonis-pretty blond locks. “So Elodie’s told me.”

“Where is your sister? I saw her at the wedding last night, but she ran off with Lyra before I could get a chance to say hi.”

A nervous chuckle escapes the Grecian ideal. “Yeah, she’s hard to get a hold of these days. It’s probably a phase.”

“Definitely a phase,” Brian reassures.

Scott juts a lip.

“Oh, honey,” Lucia soothes, rubbing his back. “It’ll be okay.”

“My favorite son hates me.”

“Youronlyson,” Brian corrects, before seamlessly proceeding to peruse the menu.

“Brian Franklin Single, you give your father some attention this instant,” Lucia demands.

Brian cocks a look back at his parents, then taps a finger to his chin and hums as he swings back toward the menu. “I think I want a ham and swiss croissant. With a mango refresher. What are you considering, Amelia?” He pulls his wallet out. “My treat.”

His treat? He’s paying for me? While his parents are low-key, high-keyshipping us?

Does he realize how that helps nothing? Is he doing it on purpose?

And why, oh why, isn’t he calling meA-mail-ia? If he’s stopped because he realizes it’ll fuel his parents’ headcanon about us, then that means he recognizes that the nickname he has for mefuels romantic headcanons.

I don’t know what to do with myself.

Inner peace at an all-time low, I scoot up to the counter and try to remember how to read. I cannot. So I just say, “I’ll have the same, please.”

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