Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but I didn’t care. “I don’t need your advice,” I said, my voice dipping into a growl. “I’m sorry if Selena is upset. She’ll get over it. I appreciate you not telling your mom, and I’ll see you tomorrow at five to trim the damn tree.”
Jake looked like he wanted to say more, but he shook his head and sighed instead. “Okay, Uncle Nic. If that’s really how you want to spend your Christmas Eve.”
“With the people I love most in the world?” I asked grimly. “Of course I fucking do.”
Then I left before he could give me another one of those meaningful looks. The one that said are you sure we’re still the people you love most in the world?
30
SELENA
It seemed impossible that it was Christmas Eve, but here it was. A perfectly beautiful day. Sixty-seven degrees. The sky was robin’s egg blue without a cloud in sight. A gentle breeze rustled through the curtains. Christi was making cinnamon rolls, and the sweet, sticky scent filled our small apartment. Upstairs, it sounded like Clyde and Maribel were breaking Christmas ornaments.
“Good morning,” Christi said brightly when I came out of my room.
“Good morning,” I said, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. It felt like I’d been in bed for days. I effectively had, considering I’d barely emerged from my room yesterday. I’d come out for breakfast, and then immediately gone back in. I felt for the familiar need to retreat and was surprised to come up empty. I sat down at the bar, curious about this new willingness to be out of bed. Would it last? What did it mean?
“It means heartbreak doesn’t actually kill you,” my little sister said, serving me a hot, gooey cinnamon roll on a Halloween plate shaped like a pumpkin. “And you can only stay heartbroken for so long before, whether you want to or not, you start to move on.”
I considered her words. “I think moving on is still a long way off, but this feels…okay.”
“Okay is better than bedridden,” Christi said. She sat down with her own cinnamon roll on a black cat plate. “What does this mean for the Christmas ball?”
Again, I felt for the crippling inability to face Christmas that had set in ever since that horrible night with Dominic. Again, I came up empty. “I think I can go,” I said slowly. “You’re going either way, right?”
“Yeah, but it’ll be more fun if you’re there.”
We spent the morning watching A Christmas Story on television and listening to Clyde and Maribel alternately howl carols at the top of their lungs and scream at each other. Both were entertaining. I kept waiting for the leaden feeling to drag me back down, but though my heart was still heavy, I didn’t feel broken anymore.
“Can you believe that by this time next year, we’ll have infants?” Christ asked, rubbing her hand over her small bump.
“And be in a better apartment,” I added as Clyde and Maribel knocked over their Christmas tree.
“Aww, I’ll kind of miss them,” Christi said, shooting a fond look at the ceiling as Clyde began stomping the tree while Maribel screamed at him to stop.
The sound of my own laugh was strange to me. It had been so long since I’d thought anything was funny. As we went into our separate rooms to get ready for the ball, I even felt a sparkle of Christmas spirit. My shower felt like a renewal. Maybe I hadn’t wanted to be renewed, but it was better than curling up in the sloughed-off remains of a fantasy. I had to move on, both for my sake and the sake of my baby.
The sight of the long velvet dress in deep cranberry looked as beautiful in this dingy apartment as it had in the fancy store. With my hair curled and my makeup applied for the first time in days, you almost couldn’t tell that my heart had received the same treatment as Clyde and Maribel’s Christmas tree.
“You look gorgeous,” Christi said from my door. She was wearing a long green dress that was made up of what looked like silvery scales. It slicked down her body before flaring out like the horn of a trumpet. It made her look half mermaid, half dragon.
“So do you,” I said, giving her reflection a tremulous smile before turning around. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
We drove up to Mrs. Kloss’s house through a fairyland of lights. Every trunk was wrapped in gold. The branches were hung with icicle lights that shimmered silver. It looked even more beautiful than I imagined it could, and the house was even better. A veritable winter wonderland sprang to life when we walked through the huge double doors that were held open by doormen dressed as nutcrackers. It didn’t have the swooping elegance of the ballroom, but it had something better. It had charm and a magical sort of coziness. Although we were in a hundred-year-old mansion set like a jewel crowning its own hill rather than a split-level 3-bedroom in the suburbs, it somehow gave me the same sensation of those magical childhood Christmases. Being tucked underneath a fur-lined blanket with Christi beside me, both of us watching the window, determined not to fall asleep until we caught a glimpse of Santa. Being three years older, I had an inkling that he might not be real, but the possibility of magic was so sweet that I let myself believe for just one more night.