Page 102 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
Come on, man. You want to be with her always.
I huff out a breath, laughing at myself. Sara spent little more than an hour here for her birthday yesterday, but my house already feels empty without her. The man I am now is more committed and determined than I’ve ever been, but there’s a gaping hole in my gut when she’s gone.
No one but Sara can fill that space with the belief that we can make anything work if we want it badly enough. She had that faith ten years ago when I didn’t. Now it’s my turn to show her I believe in us.
Please answer. Please answer. Please answer.
“Three!” My mother’s smile lights up the screen. There’s an elf hat perched on her head, and a small crowd is lining up on the pool deck behind her.
“Hey, Mom.” A grin takes over my face. “Am I interrupting?”
“Interrupting?” She glances over her shoulder then snaps her gaze back to me. “Oh, no. The cruise director is just about to start an ugly Christmas sweater contest.”
I fake a gasp. “You didn’t enter?”
“I refused on principle.” She moves away from the pool deck, pushing through a swinging door into what looks to be a hallway. “I think all Christmas-themed clothes are beautiful.” She tsks. “You know I always skip Aunt Elaine’s ugly sweater competition.”
“I do know that.” I bob my head, and a wave of happiness rises in me, buoyed by the familiarity of tradition. Home. Family. “Man, I miss you guys.”
“We miss you, too, Three. Very much.”
“Oh, really?” I cock a brow. “Becauseaccording to Nella and Ford, you all have been muddling through with mai tais and couples’ massages.”
“Well, in your message you basically demanded that we have a great time.” She tilts her head and her elf hat almost slips off. “That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“So that’s what we’re doing.” She smiles primly, readjusting her hat. “Christmas isn’t the same without you, but a Hawaiian cruise isn’t like any other holiday we’ve ever had, either. This experience is all brand new for us, so you aren’t really missing our usual holiday. Those traditions live up here.” She points at her head. “And here.” She points at her heart.
“You’re right about that.”
She wags her brow. “I’m right about everything.”
“Yes, you are.” My eyes sting at the corners, and I think about popcorn garland on the tree, and cinnamon and nutmeg simmering on the stove. Sara tried to recreate my family’s Christmas for me, but maybe I’m ready for some brand-new experiences too.
With her.
“So.” My mother peers closer at me, her eyes roaming my face. “How are you holding up there? When Ford told us about what happened, I’ll admit I was a little concerned. Of course he assured me you were in good hands, and I knew he wouldn’t have left you if he didn’t believe you were physically safe. But I wasn’t so much worried about the concussion. You’ve had those before. I was more worried about … Well, you know. Your being with Sara.”
“We’re good, Mom.” A fresh smile creeps across my face. “Really good. In fact, that’s kind of why I called.”
“I see.” Her brow lifts. “Do tell.”
“The thing is, Sara and I. Well. We’ve …” I pause for a beat because saying the words out loud—especially to my mom—makes everything more real. “We’ve … sort of reconnected.” I swallow against the dryness in my throat. “I mean we’vedefinitelyreconnected. And she’s even more amazing than I remembered.Which is saying a lot, because I already thought she was pretty great. But she’s generous and kind. Beautiful and smart. And I’m … I’m falling for her, Mom.”
My mother lays a hand over her heart, but she doesn’t say a word.
“I know from the outside, this may seem like I’m moving too fast,” I continue, “but Sara and I already have four years of history, and I feel like I owe it to myself—to both of us—to try to make things work with her now.”
“Ah.” My mom dips her chin. “So you want to try?”
“Yes.” My stomach lurches, and I can’t help clenching my teeth. Is this my mother’s way of saying she doesn’t approve? Sara and I went through this ten years ago, and her parents’ opinions came between us. But I won’t let anyone else’s doubt control my actions again. “You think that’s a bad idea?”
My mom’s gaze sweeps over me, appraising. “I’m not sure what you heard me say, Three, but I simply asked you a question. You told me you want totryto make things work with Sara. So now I’m wondering why you don’t justmakethings work with her.”
A sliver of awareness pierces my gut. I guess I have a habit of jumping to conclusions without getting clarity first. “You have a point.”
“Of course I do.” My mom’s mouth quirks. “I’m right about everything, remember?”
