“Don’t be embarrassed,” I say.
His arms wrap around my waist and pull me onto his lap. “I’m not,” he lies.
I run one of my hands through his hair and wrap my other arm around his shoulder. “I think you are,” I challenge softly, and he laughs, burying his head in my neck.
“What a Christmas Eve. It’s been a long-ass day,” he complains, and I can’t help but agree.
“Way too long. I can’t believe my mother came here. She is so unbelievable.”
“Not really,” he says, and I pull back to look at him.
“What?”
“She’s not being unreasonable, really. Yeah, she goes about it the wrong way, but I can’t blame her for not wanting you to be with someone like me.”
Tired of this talk, and his notion that my mother is somehow right about him, I scowl at him and move off of his lap to sit next to him on the bed.
“Tess, don’t look at me like that. I’m just saying that now that I’ve really thought about all the shit I’ve done, I don’t blame her for worrying.”
“Well, she’s wrong, and we can stop talking about her,” I whine. The emotional turmoil of the day—of the year, really—is making me tired and cranky. The year is almost over. I can’t believe it.
“Okay, so what would you like to talk about?” he asks.
“I don’t know . . . something lighter.” I smile, convincing myself to be less cranky. “Like how romantic you can be.”
“I am not romantic,” he scoffs.
“Yes, you most certainly are. That letter was one for the classics,” I tease.
He rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t a letter, it was a note. A note that was only supposed to be a paragraph at most.”
“Sure. A romantic note, then.”
“Oh, would you shut up . . .” he groans comically.
I wrap a lock of his hair around my finger and laugh. “Is this where you annoy me to get me to say your name?”
He moves too quickly for me to respond, grabbing my waist and pushing me back onto the bed, hovering over me with his hands on my hips. “No. I have since come up with other ways to get you to say my name,” he breathes, his lips against my ear.
My entire body ignites with only a few words from Hardin. “Is that so?” I say in a thick voice.
But suddenly Natalie’s faceless figure appears in my mind, causing my stomach to turn. “I think we should wait until your mother isn’t in the other room,” I suggest, partly because I clearly need more time to ease back into our relationship, but also because it was already awkward enough doing it once before while she was here.
“I can kick her out now,” he jokes, but rolls off to lie next to me.
“Or I could kick you out.”
“I’m not leaving again. Neither are you.” The certainty in his tone makes me smile.
We are lying next to each other, both of us staring at the ceiling. “So this is it, then, we’re done with the back-and-forth?” I ask.
“Yes, this is it. No more secrets, no more running away. Do you think you can manage not leaving me for a week at least?”
I push his shoulder with my arm and laugh. “Do you think you can manage to not piss me off for a week at least?”
“Yeah, probably not,” he answers. I know that he’s smiling.
As I turn my head to the side, sure enough: a huge grin covers his face. “You’ll have to stay with me at my dorm sometimes, too. The drive is far.”
“Your dorm? You aren’t living in a dorm. You live here.”
“We just got back together—do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“You’re staying here. We aren’t discussing this any further.”
“You are obviously confused, to be speaking to me that way,” I say, then raise myself up on an elbow to look at him. I shake my head lightly and give a slight smile. “I don’t really want to live in the dorm, I just wanted to see what you would say.”
“Well,” he says, lifting himself up and mirroring my actions, “I’m glad to see you’re back to being annoying.”
“I’m glad to see you’re back to being rude. I was getting worried that after that romantic letter you had maybe lost your edge.”
“Call me romantic one more time and I’ll take you right here, right now, Mum or no Mum.”
My eyes widen, and he laughs louder than I think I’ve ever heard him laugh. “I’m joking! You should see your face!” he bellows.
I can’t help but laugh with him.
After we stop, he admits, “I feel like we shouldn’t be laughing after all the stuff that happened today.”
“Maybe that’s why we should be laughing.” This is what we do: we fight, then make up.
“Our relationship is sort of fucked up.” He smiles.
“Yeah . . . just a little.” It has definitely been a roller coaster.
“Not anymore, though, okay? I promise.”
“Okay.” I lean over and give him a quick kiss on the lips.
It isn’t enough, though. It never is. I bring my lips back to his, and this time I let them linger. Both of our lips part at the same time, and he slips his tongue inside my mouth. My hands fist his hair, and he pulls me on top of him as his tongue massages mine. No matter how messed up our relationship has been, there is no denying our all-consuming passion. I start to move my hips, grinding down onto him, and I feel him smile against my lips.
“I think that’s enough for now,” he says.
Nodding, I shift and lay my head on his chest, reveling in the feeling of his arms wrapping around my back. “I hope tomorrow goes well,” I say after a few minutes of silence.
He doesn’t respond. And when I lift up my head, his eyes are closed and his lips are slightly parted in sleep. He must’ve been exhausted. Then again, so am I.
I climb off of him and check the time. It’s past eleven. I pull his jeans off him, gently so not to wake him, then snuggle up next to him. Tomorrow is Christmas, and I can only pray that it goes much better than today.
chapter forty-five
HARDIN
Hardin.” Tessa’s voice is soft. I groan and pull my arm from under her weight.
I grab the pillow and cover my face with it. “Not getting up yet.”
“We slept late and we have to get ready.” She snatches the pillow from me and tosses it onto the floor.
“Stay in bed with me. Let’s cancel.” I reach for her arm, and she rolls onto her side, molding her body to mine.
“We can’t cancel Christmas.” She laughs as she speaks and presses her lips against my neck. I rock into her, pushing my hips against hers, and she playfully pulls away. “Oh no you don’t.” Her hands push at my chest to keep me from rolling on top of her.
She climbs out of bed, leaving me alone. I have half a mind to follow her into the bathroom—not to do anything to her, just to be near her. Yet the bed is too warm, so I decide against it. I’m still reeling from the fact that she’s still here. Her forgiveness and acceptance of me will never fail to surprise the fuck out of me.
Having her here for Christmas will be different, too. I’ve never really given a shit about holidays like this, but watching Tessa’s face light up over some stupid tree with overpriced ornaments makes the whole thing a little more tolerable. My mum being here isn’t too bad, either. Tessa seems to adore her, and my mum is almost as obsessed with my girl as I am.
My girl. Tessa is my girl again, and I’m spending Christmas with her—and my fucked-up family. What a difference from last year, when I spent Christmas Day wasted out of my mind. A few minutes later I force myself out of bed and find my way to the kitchen. Coffee. I need coffee.
“Merry Christmas,” my mum says when I enter the kitchen.
“Same to you.” I walk past her to the fridge.
“I made coffee,” she says.
“I see that.” I grab the Frosted Flakes from on top of the fridge and walk over to the coffeepot.
“Hardin, I’m sorry for what I sa
id yesterday. I know that I upset you when I agreed with Tessa’s mum, but you have to see where I was coming from.”
The thing is, I do understand where she’s coming from, but it’s not her damn place to tell Tessa to leave me. After everything Tessa and I have been through, we need someone on our side. It feels like it’s only her and me, fighting against everyone, and I need my mum to be on our side.
“It’s just that she belongs with me, Mum, nowhere else. Only with me.” I grab a towel to wipe up the excess coffee spilling over my mug. The brown liquid stains the white towel, and I can almost hear Tessa’s voice scolding me for using the wrong towel.
“I know she does, Hardin. I see that now. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. I’m sorry for being a dick all the time. I don’t mean to be.”
She seems to be surprised by my words. I guess I don’t blame her. I never apologize, regardless if I am right or wrong. It’s my thing, I guess—being an asshole and not owning up to it.
“It’s okay, we can move past it. Let’s have a nice Christmas at your lovely father’s house.” She smiles, sarcasm clear in her voice.
“Yeah, let’s move past it.”
“Yes. Let’s. I don’t want today to be ruined because of that mess last night. I understand it better now, the whole situation. I know you love her, Hardin, and I can see you’re learning to be a better man. She’s teaching you, and that makes me so happy.” My mum brings her hands to her chest, and I roll my eyes. “Really, I’m so happy for you,” she says.
“Thanks.” I look away. “I love you, Mum.” The words taste odd coming out, but her expression makes it worth it.
She gasps. “What did you just say?” Tears immediately pool in her eyes from hearing the words I never say to her. I don’t know what made me say it just now, maybe the way she truly only wants the best for me. Maybe the way she’s here now, and she really has played such a big role in Tessa’s forgiving me. I don’t know, but the look on her face makes me wish I’d have said it sooner. She’s dealt with a lot of shit, and she really has tried her best to be a good mum to me—she should have had the simple pleasure of hearing her only child say that he loves her more than once in the last thirteen years.
I was just so angry—still am—but it’s not her fault. It never has been her fault.
“I love you, Mum,” I repeat, a little embarrassed.
She pulls me into her arms and hugs me tighter, tighter than I usually allow.
“Oh, Hardin, I love you, too. So much, son.”
chapter forty-six
TESSA
I decide to wear my hair straight, to try something different. But when I finish, it looks odd, so I end up curling it as usual. I’m taking too long to get ready, and it’s probably getting close to time to leave. Perhaps I’m taking longer because part of me is stalling, nervous about how today will go.
I hope Hardin is on his best behavior, or at least tries to be.
I go with simple makeup, only wearing a little foundation, black eyeliner, and mascara. I was going to use eye shadow as well, but I’ve had to remove the messy line from my top eyelid three times before finally getting it right.
“You alive in there?” Hardin’s voice calls through the door.
“Yes, I’m almost done,” I reply and brush my teeth once more.
“I’m going to take a quick shower, but then we need to go if you want to be there on time,” Hardin says when I open the door.
“Okay, okay, I’ll get dressed while you shower.”
He disappears into the bathroom, and I head for the closet, grabbing the sleeveless forest-green dress I bought to wear today. The dark-green material is thick, and the neckline is high. The bow covering my waist is much bigger than it looked when I tried it on the other day, but I’ll have a cardigan over it anyway. I retrieve my charm bracelet from the dresser, and my stomach flutters as I read and reread the perfect inscription.
I can’t decide on what shoes to wear; if I wear heels, I’ll probably look too dressy. I go with black flats, and am pulling my white cardigan over the dress just as Hardin opens the door wearing only a towel tied around his waist.
Oh. No matter how many times I see him, I still lose my breath at the sight of him. Staring at Hardin’s half-naked body, I do not understand how tattoos were not my thing before.
“Holy shit,” he says as his eyes rake up and down my body.
“What? What?” I look down to see what’s wrong.
“You look . . . incredibly innocent.”
“Wait, is that good or bad? It’s Christmas, I didn’t want to look indecent.” I suddenly feel unsure of what I chose to wear.
“Oh, it’s good. Very good.” His tongue snakes over his bottom lip, and I finally get it, blushing and looking away before we start something that we should not finish. Not right now, at least. “Thank you. What are you wearing?”
“What I always wear.”
I look back at him. “Oh.”
“I’m not dressing up to go to my dad’s house.”
“I know . . . maybe you could wear that shirt your mother got you for Christmas?” I suggest, even though I know he won’t.
He barks out a laugh. “Not happening.” He goes to the closet and pulls his jeans off the hanger, which falls to the ground, not that he notices such things. I decide not to say anything; instead I walk away from the closet as Hardin’s towel falls to the floor.
“I’m going to go out there with your mom,” I squeak out, trying to force myself not to look at his body.
“Suit yourself.” He smirks, and I leave the room.
When I find Trish in the living room, she’s wearing a red dress and black heels, much different from her usual tracksuit.
“You look so beautiful!” I tell her.
“You’re sure? Is it too much, with the makeup and all?” she asks nervously. “It’s not that I care, really—I just don’t want to look bad when I see my ex-husband after all these years.”
“Trust me, bad is the last thing you look,” I tell her, which gets her to smile a little.
“You two ready?” Hardin asks when he joins us in the living room. His hair is still wet, but somehow it manages to look perfect. He’s wearing all black, including the black Converses he wore in Seattle that I love.
His mother doesn’t seem to notice the all-black attire, likely because she’s still focusing on her own appearance. As we get into the elevator, Hardin looks at his mother as if for the first time, then asks, “Why are you so dressed up?”
She blushes a little. “It’s a holiday, why wouldn’t I be?”
“It just seems weird—”
I cut him off before he says something to ruin his mother’s day. “She looks lovely, Hardin. I’m just as dressed up as she is.”
During the drive, everyone is quiet, even Trish. I can tell she’s anxious, and who could blame her? I’d be incredibly nervous, too. In fact, for different reasons, the closer we get to Ken’s house, the more I feel it. I really just want a calm holiday.
When we finally arrive and park at the curb, I hear Trish gasp. “This is his house?”
“Yep. I told you it was big,” Hardin says and turns off the car.
“I didn’t think you meant this big,” she says quietly.
Hardin hops out and opens his mother’s door, since she’s just sitting there in shock. I get out myself, and as we walk up the steps leading to the large house, I see the apprehension on his face. I take his hand in mine to try to calm him, and he looks down at me with a small but noticeable smile. He doesn’t ring the doorbell—he just opens the door and walks inside.
Karen is standing in the living room with a beaming, welcoming smile that’s so infectious it makes me feel a little better. Hardin walks through the foyer first with his mom, and I follow behind him, my hand still in his.
“Thank you all for coming,” Karen says, approaching Trish, since it’s just understood Hardin’s not one for introductions. “Hello, Trish, I’m Karen,” she
says and extends her hand. “It’s so nice to get a chance to meet you. I really appreciate you coming.” Karen appears completely calm, but I’ve gotten to know her well enough to know that’s not really the case.
“Hi, Karen, it’s nice to meet you, too,” Trish says and shakes her hand.
Just then Ken enters the room and, doing a double take when he sees us, stops dead in his tracks and stares at his ex-wife. I lean into Hardin and hope that Landon told Ken we were coming.
“Hello, Ken,” Trish says, her voice sounding stronger than it’s been all morning.
“Trish . . . wow . . . hello,” he stammers.
Trish, who I’m guessing is pleased by his reaction, nods her head once and says, “You look . . . different.”
I’ve tried to imagine what Ken looked like back then—eyes likely bloodshot from liquor, forehead sweaty, face pale—but I can’t seem to.
“Yeah . . . so do you,” he says.
The awkward tension is making me dizzy, so I’m beyond relieved when Karen suddenly exclaims, “Landon!” and he joins us. Karen’s clearly relieved to see the apple of her eye right now, and he looks the part, dressed in blue slacks and a white dress shirt with a black tie.
“You look beautiful.” He compliments me and pulls me in for a hug.
Hardin’s grip on my hand tightens, but I manage to pull my hand free and hug Landon back. “You look very nice yourself, Landon,” I say.
Hardin hooks his arm around my waist and pulls me back over to him, closer than before. Landon rolls his eyes at Hardin, then turns to Trish. “Hello, ma’am, I’m Landon, Karen’s son. It’s great to finally meet you.”
“Oh, please don’t call me ma’am.” Trish laughs. “But it’s very nice to meet you, too. Tessa has told me a lot about you.”
He smiles. “All good things, I hope.”
“Mostly,” she teases.
Landon’s charm seems to ease some of the tension in the room, and Karen pipes up, “Well, you all are just in time. The goose is ready to be served in just a couple of minutes!”
Ken leads us to the dining room while Karen disappears into the kitchen. I’m not at all surprised to find the table perfectly set with their best china, polished silverware, and elegant wooden napkin rings. Platters of neatly arranged food cover the table. The main goose dish is surrounded by thick slices of oranges. A bundle of red berries rests atop the body. It’s so elegantly arranged, and the smell makes my mouth water. A plate of roasted potatoes is directly in front of me. The scent of garlic and rosemary fills the air, and I admire the rest of the table. A large centerpiece full of flowers and ornaments sits in the middle, and each decoration echoes the same orange-and-berry theme. Karen is always an amazing host.