Page 73 of Pretty Thing

He pulls out his phone and takes a photo of me smiling and holding it like it’s a child while Kris rolls her eyes.

“I found it online at like two in the morning and immediately thought of you. We decided it was a must-buy.”

“It’s hideous,” I say, pulling it out.

The monstrosity is longer than my forearm.

“Don’t lie, you love it.”

Kyle nudges my shoulder with his, and he’s right.

I absolutely love it.

The tears come out of nowhere, and I cover my mouth. Dad would’ve loved this stupid thing too. The twins wrap their arms around me and hold me. Thankfully, the rest of the family keeps their distance, letting us have this moment.

“You guys…”

“You’re allowed to miss them and still enjoy yourself,” Kris whispers.

The night moves around me with too much dessert and chaotic board games. Christmas karaoke should absolutely qualify as psychological warfare. I sit out of it, laughing at everyone else. But during every quiet moment between it all, my thoughts drift—Felix.

Part of me is here, but another part is still back at home with him. I have to find a way to help Kris and Kyle see that Felix is a good guy and he’s good for me. Not having him here feels wrong.

felix

I barely notice the cold as I stand in the shadows, hidden among the snow-covered bushes between two houses, watching through the window. I had no intention of following Eden, but I can’t help myself.

The Newman home is a large house, in a pretty area of the city, with cars parked everywhere and Christmas lights glinting from every home like a postcard. The windows glow, the smell of food is thick in the air, and laughter spills out every time someone opens a front door. Everything is warm, bright, teeming with life and love, and…nothing that I have. Everyone in there has someone, while I’ve spent most of my life standing outside windows.

Eden moves past the frosty glass, smiling. She looks happy, which should make me happy, but ugly jealousy blooms in the middle of my chest.

It should be me with her. I’m the one who shows up, not them. I cook for her, hold her while she cries. I’ve shown her my vulnerable side, telling her about my fucked-up family and the things I usually keep buried deep.

But they still talked her into leaving me. I know it isn’t rational. I know most people spend Christmas with family and friends. But I want her to pick me.

Snow gathers on my shoulders while I watch Eden. She moves into the dining room, carrying her camera…my camera. The old Minolta hanging around her neck catches the light every time she turns. My uncle gave it to me just after my father was arrested. He thought it might help me with my anger.

People show you who they really are when they think nobody’s paying attention.

I think maybe that’s when it all started. The obsession with freezing moments before they disappear. At first, I photographed alleyways and rooftops, stray cats sleeping beneath streetlights, and the homeless tucked away in shadowy corners. Then…then I found my Pretty Thing.

Inside the house, Eden lifts the camera and takes another picture while Kyle leans close to show her something on his phone.

My jaw clenches. There’s nothing romantic happening. I know it, I can see it, but the look in his eyes…it does something poisonous to my brain, and my hand balls into a fist.

Kyle represents something that I can’t offer—a time before her parents died. Shared memories that Eden desperately wants to cling to, but they don’t include me. Kyle was there, and that…that’s dangerous.

I haven’t moved in almost two hours. My fingers ache inside my gloves, but leaving feels impossible. Because if I leave, then she’s here without me, laughing and healing.

The front door of a neighboring house opens, and a family hurries down the sidewalk, passing my hiding spot. I retreat further into the shadows automatically. I’m unwanted and always outside looking in, but just then Eden walks over to the Christmas tree. She’s alone, and her smile slowly fades.

There you are, Pretty Thing.

My chest tightens painfully.

She lifts the camera, pointing it toward the room like she’s trying to preserve the moment the same way I do. The corner of my mouth lifts. She likes my gift. Eden is carrying pieces of me without realizing it. But she should still be with me.

This is Kris’s doing. I know it. She and her twin need to back off.