Page 27 of Not Like Christmas At All
A few minutes later, the click of my front door lets me know she’s gone. Sinking against my pillow, my eyes fall shut as the whirlwind of the last two days replays through my mind.
An exhausted laugh of disbelief slips past my lips.I can’t believe I fell off a ladder and gave myself a concussion on Christmas.
And in an unexpected turn of events, Lincoln… hasfeelingsfor me?
Speaking of which, I need to respond to him.
I can’t tonight.
My family is coming over to celebrate Christmas.
Tomorrow then.
Tomorrow is the holiday party.
You can’t possibly tell me you’re still planning on going to that.
Of course I am.
You have a concussion.
I know. People don’t need to keep reminding me! I’m fine.
Do you need anything?
No, but thank you.
I watch the typing dots in our text thread appear and then disappear. It happens a couple of times before finally they vanish for good.
I’m not sure what to make of it, and for a moment I consider calling Zee, but I know I should rest before my family arrives later.
Plugging my phone into the charger next to me, I cuddle into my blankets. Despite the sunlight streaming in through the crack in my curtains, I’m off to dreamland in no time, dancing with the sugarplum fairies.
“Everything smells delicious,” I compliment my mom as I shuffle into the kitchen, clad in fuzzy socks, an oversized Christmas sweater, and my pajama bottoms. Nothing I’m wearing matches, but being that it’s just my family here, there’s no pressure to change.
“You look like shit,” my youngest brother comments with a smirk as I slide onto the barstool next to him.
His comment earns him a punch to the shoulder. “Well, I have an excuse, but I’m not sure what yours is.”
We both laugh, and our mom shakes her head with a smile as she stirs something on my stove.
“We thought we’d keep it easy tonight. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. What’s for dinner?”
“Turkey with savory stuffing, roasted lemon potatoes, spanakopita, salad, and melomakarona for dessert.”
A hearty sense of nostalgia hits me. “Mom! I thought you weren’t going to make a whole holiday spread?”
“You know your father enjoys his favorite Greek recipes for Christmas.” She lifts her shoulders, grinning. “I couldn’t resist.”
Spinning on my barstool, I turn toward my father, who’s lounging on my sofa watching highlights from a football game. “Where’s everyone else?”
“I’m sure they’ll be here soon. We didn’t want to overwhelm you, so I told them to arrive later, just before dinner. How are you feeling?”
My eyes flick toward my brother, who’s glued to his phone. “So much better. My headache is completely gone now.”
“That’s wonderful, Gennie,” Mom coos. “Just don’t do too much. Let us take care of you.”
