Page 17 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
She takes a beat, then her lips curve up. “Forever too soon.”
“Fair enough.” I stuff my hands in the pockets of my joggers. “Anyway, I’m not hungry. Just tired.”
“In that case, I’ve got the guest room set up for you. But first … hold on.” She moves around the kitchen filling a glass of water and retrieving my meds. Then she watches as I swallow the tablets. I stick out my tongue to prove I did.
“For the record, I’m not trying to hover or treat you like a kid or anything,” she says. “But Iamsupposed to write down what you take and when to keep track.”
“In other words, you’re stuck being my mom?”
“Eww.” She grimaces.
I run a hand over my head. “Please forget I said that.”
“Agreed.” A spot of pink warms her cheeks. “Forever too soon.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, shifting our weight. When Sara starts to chew her lip, she doesn’t look like anyone remotely related to me. She looks like a woman I want to wrap my arms around and comfort. Which means it’s time to put some distance between us.
“Guess I’ll just call it a night,” I say.
“Okay.” She nods. “Sorry I’ll have to keep checking on you while you sleep.”
Yeah. You and me both.
I head back down the hallway past the bathroom to the guest room. Along one wall is a large antique dresser. A plush armchair sits in the opposite corner. A pair of mahogany nightstands flank a king-sized sleigh bed. The down comforter and duvet is a rich forest green. Piles of soft throw pillows and a quilt complete thelush bedding. The space feels cozy. Comfortable but elevated. Not bad for a rental property.
A Hathaway property.
After climbing into bed, I check my phone. There are a couple of missed texts from Nella and Ford, plus one voicemail from my mother. She’s probably scolding me for cutting my arrival so close to our departure time. So I decide not to listen to her message.
Her disappointment will only make my heart hurt worse than it already does. So I skip to the texts from my sister, sent separately from the Original Fuller House thread.
Smella
We got through security and bought some plane snacks in the gift shop. Mom and Dad can’t get over how expensive things are at the airport. In fact this may be the first and last time they ever fly anywhere.
They bought one package of Peanut M&Ms to split between the four of us. LOL! You’d better get here soon and save me, Free.
Freeis what Nella started calling me when she was little and couldn’t pronounce the Th- in Three. It’s way nicer than what I called her. My sisterisway nicer than I am. In fact, she’s way nicer than almost anyone.
Smella
FREE! We’re at the gate now. Where are you? Ford’s great and all, but I need my sibling buffer!
Oof. My insides twist, thinking about my sister waiting for me, with no idea I’m not coming. Unfortunately, the text from Ford don’t make mefeel any better.
Ford
Hey, cuz. We’re about to board the plane. So far, I’ve managed to convince everyone you were just running late, but the jig will be up soon.
You want me to tell your folks what actually happened? They can’t hate me forever, right? After all, it’s almost Christmas.
On that note, I’m buying you a pooka shell necklace as soon as we get to Hawaii. Just call me Santa Claus. Love you, man.
At this my jaw goes tight.
My whole extended family might be a little nuts, but for the next two weeks, I’m going to miss their bone-crushing hugs, not to mention their particular brand of holiday chaos. Everyone was so ready to break from our usual traditions this year. We’d been dreaming of a tropical Christmas instead of a white one. Palm trees rather than noble firs. Umbrella drinks in place of eggnog. Flowered leis, not Santa hats.
I can only hope my parents and Nella will be too busy making once-in-a-lifetime memories to feel my absence too badly. Meanwhile, I’ll be stuck here in a house that’s not decorated for any kind of holiday—traditional or otherwise—with a woman who’s only here with me out of guilt.
