Page 178 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
I feel him nod. “Yeah. But it wasn’t my idea. It was Max’s. He brought me over to his house one Christmas Eve eve, and he’d got his own board because he wasn’t sure I wanted to play on mine. But yeah, we always play, eat junk food, drink, and then pass out in his living room.”
“Right on the floor?” I ask.
“Nah, Mrs. Maxheimer has blow-up mattresses for us that she insists we use after the one year we slept on the floor and woke up with bad backs, despite being in our mid-twenties. She said never again, so yeah, now it’s blow-up mattresses. The last two years, Max has purchased us matching pajamas, and of course Mrs. Maxheimer has eaten up that opportunity to take pictures.”
“That’s so sweet. I love your relationship with Atlas. You guys seem so much closer than Taran and me, and she’s my actual sister. We’ve just always been sort of different. Ever since we were little. We aren’t that far apart in age, but she’s more rigid, more serious, and I’ve kind of just gone with the flow. I think it’s hard for us to relate. That doesn’t mean I don’t love her, though. Just kind of wish I was as close with her as you are with Atlas.”
“Maybe you can be. Have you tried to get closer with her since you’ve been here?”
“I mean, there have been moments, but as soon as Taran’s fixated on something, she won’t let it go, so it’s hard to actually hang out. So now that she’s all in on this competition, nothing else matters. Of course, Aunt Cindy gets the treatment she needs, so Taran’s priorities right now are Aunt Cindy and the Kringle competition. I don’t think there’s any bonding with her sister on that list.”
“Well, maybe after the competition is over,” he suggests.
“Possibly. I actually got her a few puzzles for Christmas since we used to love doing them together. Maybe we can do one Christmas Day and chat.”
“That’s a good idea. Ease her in with a puzzle. Is she seeing anyone?”
“Yes, she has a boyfriend back in Denver. His name is Guy. He’s nice, from what I’ve seen. She doesn’t talk about him much, but I think that’s because she’s also pretty private. I don’t know, she’s just different. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the hard one to talk to.”
“No, that’s not the case. I’ve had no problem talking to you over the years.”
“You are the one person I seemed to always be able to talk to,” I say. “I’m a bit of a homebody. I talk to my ficus, Alexander. But he’s not much of a conversationalist.”
He chuckles, his chest rumbling against my back. “Maybe he’s just a good listener.”
“The best kind.”
We’re silent for a moment as Hayes Farrow starts singing “White Christmas” in the background.
“What about your parents? Are they going to come here for Christmas?” he asks.
“No,” I answer. “They have a timeshare in Cancun that they visit during the holidays. They’ve become accustomed to Christmas on the beach, decorating a palm tree with ornaments, and being able to get a nice holiday tan.”
“Wonder what that’s like,” Cole says. “I don’t think that’s something I’d want to experience. I’ve just always seen Christmas as a time when you cozy up in front of the fireplace, under a blanket, with some hot chocolate.”
“Same,” I reply. “Like this right here, this moment with you, it’s ideal, and I truly hate that I stayed away for so long. I love everything about this, about being here, about feeling the spirit of the season.” I curl in closer to him, and he kisses the top of my head. “I never want to leave.”
Cole
I never want to leave…
That sentence has been on repeat in my head all night.
Because I don’t want her to leave either. I want her to want to stay here in this year-round Christmas town. I want her to love it here like I do. And I want…hell, I want to be with her.
And the unknown of whether or not that’s an option is scary. Terrifying, actually.
“Where do you plan on spending Christmas?” she asks, now resting her head on my lap while I play with her hair.
“With the Maxheimers. They’ve taken me in, and we’re family at this point. When I spent my first Christmas with them, they showered me with gifts. I told them it wasn’t necessary, but Mrs. Maxheimer doesn’t really listen all that well when it comes to gift-giving. As Max and I got older, she began lessening the gifts, and now it’s usually some homemade cookies, a new flannel shirt, and then a special gift she saw sometime during the year that she thought I would like. She really enjoys getting Max and me matching flannel shirts.”
She chuckles. “God, I love that so much. I wish you’d both wear them together.”
“We’ve accidentally done it before, and of course Max then goes around town asking who wore it better. Let me tell you, it’s always me.”
“Oh, you would get my vote.” Her beautiful eyes stare up at me.
“I’d better.”
