Page 23 of Wrapped with a Beau

The moment the words are out of his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. What kind of nephew only visits his aunt once? Especially one who inherits her entire goddamn house?

But Danica’s face is gentle as she says, “I’m sorry for your loss. We all loved Maeve so much here in Piney Peaks. Christmas won’t be the same without her. But at least her spirit will live on in the movie she loved so much. We’re all very grateful to you for letting this go ahead.”

His eyes flick to Elisha, who has the grace to flush. He’s backed into a corner, not able to contradict the mayor without looking like a prize asshole. Discomfort scratches at his skin, itchy as a too-small sweater. He despises losing control, and he suspects that ever since meeting Elisha, he’s being slowly but surely stripped of it.

His father is good in these sorts of situations. He likes parties and he likes people. He also likes other people’s wives—which was the whole reason for the divorce that brought Ves here in the first place twenty-three years ago. There’s no doubt in Ves’s mind that Karl Hollins would have been able to segue the conversation to something cheerier as easily as breathing.

Ves just smiles awkwardly, mumbles a thank-you, and intently studies the menu.

He overhears quite a few things while he reads: One, literally every person at the table loves Elisha, including his neighbor who spied on him from the porch just that morning, miming the invitation for coffee, whose name he learns is Marcy. Two, in addition to being Elisha’s champion, the mayor is a Sleighbells fan who is keen to revitalize the town’s cultural identity and attract more creative industries, boosting economic development.

And three... Well, there is no three, because when Danica talks to Elisha about chamber business, Solana turns her attention to him. “We’re waiting on the Char Siu Wellington. The chef makes it with pork loin instead of beef and this amazing honey glaze. If you like twists on tradition and Asian flavors, it’s terrific. My favorite sides are the garlic green beans and mashed butternut squash.”

He’s grateful. Food is a safe topic. “That sounds good. I’ll go with both those sides,” he says.

When the waiter comes over, Elisha orders the same but with gochujang brown-butter brussels sprouts and a glass of red wine. “I’ve had a day,” she says with a sigh, offering no further explanation.

Ves takes a sip of his water. “You don’t have to come over tonight if you’re too tired.”

“No, no. I don’t need an out.” Elisha smiles awkwardly. “I said I would.”

“Oh ho ho,” chortles a woman with wispy white hair sitting farther down the table. She looks older than Maeve but her ears are still sharp. “You two have been spending quite a lot of time together, haven’t you?”

Now Marcy chimes in, voice gossipy with innuendo. “I saw Elisha leaving the Christmas House in her pajamas quite early on Friday morning. Did you give her a lovely present, dearie?” More giggles and titters.

Ves chokes on his water. Solana has to thump his back until his coughing ceases. “No, that’s not—” he rasps, but the table erupts in gleeful cackles and congratulations. His neck is stiff, tight. Eye contact becomes too difficult. With anyone.

Including Elisha, who’s eyeing him with concern. He thinks. Right now, watching the condensation drip down the side of his glass is about all he can manage.

Other people might be able to laugh it off, maybe even join in.

But not Ves. He never could.

His pulse races. His skin crawls. Do all these women live on their street? Do they just peer out the windows hoping to catch their neighbors in scandalous acts? Does he need to keep his drapes closed 24/7 in this town? Does he need, like, three layers of blackout curtains for maximum privacy?

He can’t believe that literal strangers are discussing his sex life, which is actually nonexistent at the moment, right in front of him. While merrily ripping into bread rolls and sopping up gravy and patting their lipsticked mouths. It’s mortifying and they show no signs of stopping. Even Danica’s attempt at saying Ladies, please goes unnoticed.

All Ves wants is this excruciating moment to end, but he doesn’t know how. He’s blushing and he hates it. Any attempt at denial will only be met with more amusement, more fun poked at his expense.

His mind flashes back to other meals, when his legs didn’t touch the floor and he hadn’t yet learned how to block out the sound of his parents’ verbal grenades sailing over the length of their formal dining table. They hadn’t expected him to participate. At least not until one or the other would try to make him pick a side in their argument du jour.

Elisha leans in but can’t make it all the way across the table, so he mimics her pose. “You don’t have to look so offended,” she whispers. “They don’t mean anything by it. It’s not like I’m your type, anyway.”

His brows draw together. How has she arrived at that conclusion? Regardless, it’s not the assumption that’s galling him, it’s the sheer lack of propriety. He’s not used to this kind of open prying from his parents, let alone from complete strangers. Adeline and Karl have always been far too wrapped up in themselves to express an interest in his life. They’re his parents, but they’re not parentish.

But, he supposes, they must be different around other people—his dad with his 2.0 family that is so perfect it’s scary, and his mom with the much younger man she’s flaunting all over social media apps that Ves didn’t even know she knew how to use.

He steadies his irritation with a deep breath. This is why he prefers staying single over the holidays.

Why he doesn’t want to do the obligatory meet-the-parents fanfare where he’ll be asked questions about his own childhood and upbringing while picking at tasteless boiled chicken and un- or underseasoned sides.

Why he doesn’t want to get into personal territory that will inevitably lead back to his parents’ divorce and no, they really aren’t all that close. Nope, no plans to introduce them.

Ever since that Christmas during his senior year of college that he joined his girlfriend Claire’s family in Connecticut, he’s had way too many of those conversations. They might start in different ways, some more subtle than others, but they always end the same way: the girl’s parents exchanging looks, confirming with each other that he’s not exactly son-in-law material. That his lack of familial relationships is a yellow flag, at best. No doubt if he ever made it to a second meeting, they’d upgrade him to red.

But he hadn’t known any of this when he met Claire’s family. Her parents were younger than his, having gotten married right out of high school, and Claire’s older siblings had all followed suit. They were all warm and loving, or so he’d thought. He’d been envious of how tight-knit they were, wanted so badly to be part of the family one day.

Then he’d come down to the kitchen just in time to overhear Claire’s married older sisters telling her that her boyfriend was hot, but he doesn’t really seem family oriented, does he? Isn’t it weird that he hasn’t been home since he was eighteen? That’s almost four years!

---