Page 27 of You Can't Ruin Christmas

My father scoffs. “Of course, he’s better! I saw him playing minor league hockey in Ontario, California. He was incredible. So, Sven, are you actually my daughter’s boyfriend, or did she just trick you into pretending with some kind of guilt trip or weird incentive?”

Sven grins, looking over at me. “I’m actually her boyfriend, sir.”

I feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach at hearing him say that.

“And how long has this been going on?” my mother asks, peering through her bifocals at Sven as she interviews him.

“It’s fairly new,” he admits, “but I’ve been in love with her for many years, so not really that new for me.”

Oh my gosh. He just said the L word. To myparents.

This is too sweet, cute, and embarrassing. I am smiling so big that my face hurts.

“Excellent, excellent,” my father says. “Well done, Mary, it’s always wise to pick the superior hockey player. A man who knows how to handle his stick properly is sure to be better in—”

“Dad!” I interject, plugging both my fingers in my ears. “I don’t want to hear the rest of that sentence.”

Sven and my mother begin laughing, and my father joins in as I blush several different shades of red.

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