Page 78 of Cross Check Christmas
My throat tightens at how right she looks standing there in my family's home. I can picture Colette at countless more Christmas mornings, her blonde hair catching the winter light streaming through Grannie's kitchen windows. Maybe one day she'll be wearing my ring, maybe we'll have kids running around this very table. But for now, I'm just happy she forgave me for the bet fiasco and agreed to give us a real shot.
"Something's burning!" Grannie shouts from the living room.
I snap back to reality and rescue the last batch of bacon from the skillet and force myself to focus on the breakfast spread. We've got time. All the time in the world to figure out what we could be. For now, I'm content knowing Colette will be sittingacross from me at this table, stealing bits of bacon and arguing with me about whether maple syrup belongs on eggs. It does.
I wave frantically at the smoke with a dish towel while Colette glides past me to the living room. "Grannie! Merry Christmas!" Her voice carries that warmth that makes my chest tight.
"There's my girl!" Grannie's enthusiasm echoes through the house. "Come give me a proper hug."
The smoke finally clears and I dump the charred bacon in the trash, mourning the waste of perfectly good meat. When I peek into the living room, Colette's bent down, giving Grannie a kiss on the cheek.
"You know," Grannie says with a mischievous glint in her eye, "I made quite a bundle on you two."
"Bundle?" Colette straightens up, confusion crossing her face.
"Oh yes." Grannie pats her pocket. "The town side bet paid five-to-one odds. I knew my grandson wouldn't mess this up twice."
"Mother!" Aunt Goldie tries to look scandalized but fails miserably. "Though I did clean up nicely myself."
My jaw drops. "You were betting on us too?"
"Oh, would you look at the time!" Grannie suddenly announces. "Goldie, didn't we need to check on that thing?"
"What thing?" Goldie blinks, then catches on. "Oh! That thing. Yes, that very important thing! Must be done right now. In the garage. Far away from here."
They shuffle out so fast I half expect to see cartoon smoke trails behind them. Subtle as a freight train, those two. But with Colette standing there in my family's living room, wearing that soft green sweater that brings out her eyes, I can't bring myself to care about their less-than-smooth exit. The morning sun streams through Grannie's lace curtains, casting delicate patterns across her face, making her look almost ethereal.
I cross the room in two strides and pull her into my arms, unable to resist any longer. My heart pounds against my chest as she melts into my embrace and I kiss her like I've wanted to since she walked in the door.
Her lips are soft against mine, tasting faintly of peppermint tea - her signature drink that she swears by instead of coffee - and I can feel her initial surprise melt away as she leans into me. My hands find their way to her waist, and the cashmere of her sweater is impossibly soft under my fingers.
The scent of her perfume wraps around me, delicate and familiar, making my head spin in the best possible way. It's crazy how just being near her makes everything else fade away - hockey stats, upcoming games, even my family's not-so-subtle matchmaking schemes.
Kissing Colette—even though this is new—feels essential. Like she’s always been here in some form. As if it’s always been this way between us. Like the familiar sounds of Grannie's house creating the perfect backdrop—the ticking of that ancient clock, the creaky floorboards, the distant sound of voices pretending not to eavesdrop.
The promise of Christmas morning stretches ahead of us, and for once in my life, hockey isn't the only thing on my mind.
When we break apart, she's smiling that real smile again—the one that reaches her eyes. The Christmas tree lights cast a warm glow over her face, and everything about this moment feels perfect. This is exactly where we're meant to be.
After breakfast, we lounge in Grannie's living room, watching Christmas movies and sharing stories. Colette curls into my side on the couch while Grannie knits and Aunt Goldie bakes more cookies than any of us could possibly eat. The whole scene feels domestic in a way that makes my chest tight with happiness. The morning stretches lazy and perfect, with Grannie andAunt Goldie taking turns telling embarrassing stories about my childhood.
Around mid-afternoon, Colette suggests we head to her place. I try not to look too eager as I grab my coat, but Grannie's knowing wink tells me I'm failing miserably.
At Colette's house, we settle on her couch with mugs of hot chocolate. She reaches for her phone, frowning slightly.
"I should tell Daisy about us," she says, scrolling through her contacts. "She's probably worried after everything that happened at the faculty party."
I pull out my own phone. "Yeah, I should check on Tucker too. He's probably beating himself up about the whole bet thing."
We both try calling our respective friends, but neither picks up. Colette tries texting Daisy next, while I leave Tucker what has to be my third voicemail today.
"Straight to voicemail," Colette frowns at her phone.
"Same here." I toss my phone aside. "Tucker never turns his phone off."
"Daisy either." Colette's brow furrows. "You don't think..."
We look at each other and burst out laughing.
