Contessa

  “Of course I’ll be real, Liv,” she says, looking at me slightly uncomfortably. “This is just a big year. Fifteen years. Donna will be coming.”

  “That’s fine. She loves Jon,” I tell her with a smile. My mom laughs a little, taking a bite.

  “Done,” I respond back to Jon.

  “Alright. I’m going to nap for a bit on the ride back. I have to help my neighbor put together a dollhouse after her kids go to bed, so I’m sure this will be a late night.”

  “Call me tonight.”

  “Of course.”

  Two hours later, I get a phone call from Jon. “You’re home?” I ask him.

  “I am. Listen, I have a proposition.”

  “Okay?”

  “I spent Christmas Eve with your family. I’m spending New Year’s Eve with your family. Can I have you all to myself on Valentine’s Day?”

  My heart skips a beat. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Lots,” he answers. “I want the whole day.”

  “Is it on a weekend?” I ask him.

  “No. Tuesday.”

  “Well, I have school,” I whisper in the phone, taking the call to a more private place in the house: the laundry room, the only room not currently swarming with my family.

  “I know. So do I. I was just thinking that maybe I’d gorge on too much chocolate the night before or something.”

  “You want me to fake an illness?”

  “You’ve got a month and a half to figure out your story. Just think about it. I just think it would be fun to have a completely ‘found’ day.”

  “Do you do this often?”

  “What do you think?” he asks.

  “Yes?”

  “Never in my life, Liv. It’s one day. It’s one day that I’d really like to spend with you–and only you. Give me something to look forward to?”

  “They’ll ground me and kill you.”

  “They won’t find out.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “Alright, Liv. I just thought I’d ask. It’s no big deal–”

  “Yes, I’ll do it,” I interrupt. “But this better be worth it.”

  “I’ll take that challenge. I won’t let you down.”

  Later that night, I get an email from Jon. Attached is a video I can tell was recorded with his computer. His youngest brother was thanking me for the cookie I’d made especially for him. Will walked past in the background, taking a deliberate bite of the cookie and waving to the camera.

  “Max?” Jon had said, off-camera. “What are you going to do with those two?”

  Max picked up the Santa Claus and reindeer cookies that Jon and I had meticulously decorated early in the day, before icing the cookies became mundane. They were incredibly detailed and looked perfect together. Like Jon and me.

  “These are for Santa and Rudolph,” Max said. “He’s coming tonight!” he squeals eagerly.

  “Yeah, he is, so that means we need to get to bed, right? Tell Liv good night.”

  “Good night, Livvy!”

  “And...” Jon prompted him.

  “And Merry Christmas!”

  Jon appeared on camera briefly and smiled. “Merry Christmas, Olivia. I hope Santa’s good to you this year. And please, tell your parents thank you once more for this.” He pointed to the camera of the computer. “It’s incredible. I love you.”

  CHAPTER 12

  “What are you looking at?” Mom asks me on the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, startling me from the doorway of my room. I hadn’t realized they were home from the cemetery already. In my surprise, I don’t have time to hide the sketchbook, and I can tell it looks familiar to my mother.

  Even though Granna had asked me to keep it between us, I had always intended to share it with Mom sooner or later. I had just planned on it being later. After all, I hadn’t finished making my way through the book yet. There was so much to see, so much insight into the mind of this man. I yearned to know more, much more.

  “Ummm,” I start, closing the book and sitting up on the bed. She comes closer and takes a seat near my feet when I make room for her. “It was Nate’s. I got it for my birthday–”

  “From Donna?”

  “Yeah.” Mom sighs, staring at the worn leather binding. I don’t offer it to her, but she eventually runs her fingers along the spine of it.

  “May I?”

  “Of course,” I tell her. She takes the book from me slowly, cautiously, settling it in her lap and flipping through the pages haphazardly.

  “Oh,” she whispers, putting her hand on top of the cover. There’s no way she could have made out any sketches or words in the cursory glance she gave it. “I’m not sure I can look at that,” she says with a smile on her face, but tears forming in her eyes. “What page were you looking at?” She hands the book back to me, and I find the sketch I’d been studying. The loose paper had been positioned in the notebook as if it was an afterthought, like it came from another place. There were a few other pages like this.

  I take the thick, white paper and hand it to her.

  “He designed my bedroom,” I say softly. “When I was little.”

  “Wow,” my mom says as she outlines the large bear in green corduroy that had been painted on the wall. “It seemed prophetic, at the time. When he found out we were expecting, he had done this sketch, and another for a boy’s room. I found them, months later–months after he had passed away.

  “When your dad and I were getting ready to finalize your adoption, we tried to think of things we knew you loved to come up with a good theme for your new bedroom. You loved nothing more than your teddy,” she says with a laugh. “That was your Christmas wish. To make your teddy bear better. I remembered Nate’s sketch, and suggested it to Jacks. He didn’t know where the idea came from. He still doesn’t know,” she adds with a shrug. “I don’t think he’d care. The room was perfect for you. It was, like, somehow, Nate knew you’d come along.”

  “Do you think he did?” I ask.

  “No,” she says as she hands the page back to me. I tuck it back between other inked pages. “He knew what I liked. That was my favorite book as a child. He’d known that from the many times I’d read Clara that book when she was little.”

  I know I must look disappointed. I am. I believe he knew, and I don’t have to believe what she does. I don’t have to voice it, either, so I’m careful not to say anything that may seem hurtful to her today. She’s always the most fragile on New Year’s Eve. We let her be, and Dad takes good care of her. He offers her space when she wants it, listens when she asks, and holds her every chance he gets. He gives her the time to grieve about Nate today, because he knows that New Year’s Day is the day she will celebrate him, and their life together. Tomorrow’s my parents’ thirteenth anniversary.

  “Anything else in there?” she asks.

  “Yeah. Lots,” I tell her as I pull the book into my chest.

  “Anything good?”

  “Everything. I don’t know how anyone could love another person more, Mom. He was absolutely crazy about you.”

  She nods and tries to smile. “Poems?” she asks.

  “Yeah. And songs, I think. And sometimes, it reads like a diary. There was this one entry,” I start, looking through the pages for the one that made me cry as I recognized the emotions he’d felt, the love he’d expressed, the longing he wrote so beautifully about. I’d never been denied the one I loved. I tried to put myself in his shoes, to pretend that I lived a life where Jon simply couldn’t be mine. I could easily emote, my imagination always one that could carry me into other times, places, characters and worlds. I knew that Nate probably had the same ability. I finally find the pages of scribbled affirmations, apparently written after a fight with her. “This–”

  “No,” Mom says, pushing the book away. “Someday,” she says. “But I can’t today.”

  “Of course,” I whisper. “Mom, anytime you want to look at it, I keep it in my nightstand.”

  “I don’t think I c
ould do it alone,” she explains. “But maybe we could look at some together sometime. Maybe I can breathe some life into his sketches or words.”

  “He does a masterful job on his own, Mom.”

  “I know,” she says. “He was so talented that way. Your recent paintings, Livvy. You’re really developing into a storyteller yourself. So much like his paintings.”

  “Thank you.” It’s the best compliment anyone could give me.

  “Finn and Camille are going to come by later,” she tells me. I look at her curiously, wondering why she knows my friend’s plans. I hadn’t invited them. “Jacks said Steven mentioned it.”

  “Is Steven coming, too?”

  “No, they’re watching all the boys. They already picked up Eli and your brother.”

  “I’m sure he loves that. At least he doesn’t have to go dancing this year,” I laugh, knowing how much my uncle detests that particular activity. He’d do anything for his wife, though. “Lexi said she and Kyle might come by, though, too.”

  “Yes, that’s what I heard. This is just getting to be a regular old party, huh?” she asks.

  “Mom, I can ask them all not to come,” I suggest.

  “That’s silly, Livvy. It’s better, with more people. Keeps us a little distracted.”

  “But I know you like to honor him today.”

  “I have,” she says.

  I nod to her. “I’m not quite finished,” I tell her, gesturing toward the book. “I want to read a few more things before Jon gets here.”

  She smiles and stands up, kissing me on the forehead. “What are you wearing tonight?”

  “Probably this.” I glance down at my distressed jeans and t-shirt.

  “You should dress up,” she suggests. “To celebrate.”

  “We mourn today,” I tell her.

  “You don’t have to, sweetie. Nate wouldn’t want that.”

  “We do it every year.”

  “I know. I’m going to dress up tonight,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “Surprise your dad.”

  “Wow, Mom, next thing you’ll tell me is that you’re going out on the town to celebrate.”

  “I don’t think that’s completely out of the question. I’m ready.” Since the accident, there was only one New Year’s Eve that my parents didn’t spend together at home; it was the night before their wedding. Every year since then, I’ve been a part of their quiet evening of remembrance.

  “Wow. That’s a big step.”

  “He’s been gone longer than I knew him,” she says. “I realized that this morning. That seems strange to me.”

  “Gone, but not forgotten.”

  “Never forgotten,” she confirms. “Don’t spend all afternoon down here, okay?” She walks over to my closet and flips through some of the newer garments. “I haven’t seen you in this,” she says, holding up an off-the-shoulder white peasant blouse paired with a red skirt.

  “Well, that seems a little showy for a night at home,” I tell her.

  “It’s so pretty, though. Did Anna help you pick that out?”

  “No, I used my birthday money,” I tell her.

  “Wow, you picked this out?”

  “Yeah.” I shrug my shoulders as she looks at the tags.

  “I’m impressed. I guess Anna’s rubbed off on you. You should wear this tonight, just for fun.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Dad would probably flip.” Her smile is mischievous.

  “Fine,” I tell her. “I’ll wear it. I could break in my new shoes, too.”

  “I like the way you think, Livvy,” she says as she begins to leave my room. Suddenly excited and anxious to see Jon, I put Nate’s book aside and decide to start getting ready, giving myself plenty of time to straighten my hair and paint my nails. “Now I won’t feel so silly getting a little glam tonight.”

  “Dad’s not going to be mad, right?” I ask as I pull some accessories out of a drawer in my closet.

  “Dad’s not going to be able to keep his eyes off me,” she says.

  “Gross, Mom,” I mutter. Actually, though, I’m happy she’s in such good spirits. And I know it will make my dad really happy. He does hate it when she’s sad.

  I take my time getting dressed, but when my aunt comes down two hours later, I can’t believe exactly how much time I’ve spent doing it. “That’s all wrong,” Anna says as she enters my room. I’m pacing, trying to break in the heels that I think might be too high.

  I stop to stare, looking into my full-length mirror. I thought I looked pretty. “What?”

  “Your blouse isn’t supposed to cover your shoulders,” she says as she pulls them down.

  “No, I know, Anna,” I laugh as I push them back up. “I’m doing that for Dad.”

  “We don’t dress for Dad, Livvy,” she says as she repositions the sleeves once more. “We dress for that handsome boy that’s waiting upstairs ri–”

  “He’s here already?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Is he just up there with Dad and Chris?” I panic.

  “No, Finn and Camille are up there, keeping him company. He’s fine. He looks good, Liv,” Anna says, lifting her eyebrows.

  “What’s he wearing?”

  “Nice jeans. Shiny black shoes. A very proper, crisp white dress shirt and a deep red tie that matches that little rose blossom right there,” she says as she points to one of the decorative elements of my shirt. “And he’s got a nice five o’clock shadow for a teenager,” my aunt adds, impressed. “And messy hair.”

  “I love it when his hair’s messy,” I tell her with a blush.

  “Where did you get that handbag?” she asks.

  “That boutique you took me to,” I answer. “Does it look okay with the shoes?”

  “Stunning. It all looks stunning. Although, why the handbag when you’re staying in?”

  “Why any of this if I’m staying in?” I ask her back. “Just because, I guess.”

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. Now go distract my dad or something so I can come upstairs and see Jon.”

  “You got it,” she says with a smile. We pass my uncle on the stairs, who whistles as I walk by.

  “That’s not weird or anything, Chris,” I say sarcastically. He laughs from behind us.

  Camille engulfs me with a hug when she sees me. “I’ve missed you. I realize I can go without school altogether, but I miss seeing you over the holidays.”

  “I know,” I agree. “But I’m still not excited to go back on Wednesday.”

  “Me, neither.”

  “Hey, Finn.” We hug each other quickly as I continue to scan the room for Jon. Finally, he stands up off the couch, straightening his tie. Anna wasn’t kidding. He does look handsome.

  “Olivia,” he says softly. Fortunately, my dad is in the kitchen, getting together last-minute preparations for the guests that will be coming tonight. He touches his bristly chin as a smile grows slowly across his face, his feet planted firmly as if he can’t move. I wave from the foyer. His eyes travel down the length of my body and stay focused on the shoes I got for Christmas when he finally decides to make a move in my direction.

  He takes my hands in his and taps his shoe to one of mine, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Those are even sexier on you than I imagined they would be.” He kisses the skin by my ear slowly, just once, before backing away. He drops one of my hands, but holds out the other.

  “But the shirt? The skirt? Nothing?” I ask him softly, teasing. Chris and Anna move past us into the living room, but Anna watches us slowly on her way. I hear Finn and Camille go down the stairs to the basement.

  “Turn around,” he says as he lifts my hand, helping me twirl once in front of him. I catch Anna’s gaze when he stops me. She smiles and nods before following her husband into the kitchen. “Hmmm,” he ponders his response and clears his throat. “I’m trying to think of the right word, but I honestly can’t think of any words right now.”

>   “Nothing?” I urge him to continue.

  “It’s not appropriate.” He bites his bottom lip.

  “My outfit?” I ask coquettishly, running my hands down my skirt.

  “No, not your outfit. The word. The outfit makes me libidinous.”

  “What?” I ask him.

  “Yeah. Who knew I’d use SAT words in real life?” I look at him curiously, waiting for an explanation. “Just look it up later.” He laughs, silencing me with a kiss. “Libidinous.”

  “Why do you have to be so smart?” I whisper. “It’s sexy, you know?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I feel his smile on my lips. I hear my dad’s voice from the kitchen, and Jon pulls away abruptly. “I’ve forgotten where I am.” He drops my hand and motions for me to go into the living room ahead of him. I walk into the kitchen instead to see if my mom’s in there, but she’s not.

  “Did you two want something to drink?” Anna asks.

  “Champagne?” I ask.

  “You can have a little at midnight,” my dad says, his eyes a little bloodshot. He barely pays attention to my outfit. “Just a little,” he adds when he sees my expression.

  “Cool,” I say nonchalantly.

  “You’ve got a full bar, don’t you, Jack?” my boyfriend says. He would have seen it when we had dinner in the formal dining room. My dad stops what he’s doing and gives Jon his full attention.

  “Yes, but I’m not letting you raid the liquor cabinet,” Dad says, setting down his own glass of scotch.

  “No, I didn’t mean that. My uncle’s shown me how to make a ton of non-alcoholic cocktails. Would you mind if I explored the cabinet, to see what I could put together?”

  “I don’t need to supervise, do I?” His question is playful.

  “No, sir.” My dad looks at him reproachfully. “No, Jack,” Jon corrects himself. “Come tell me what you like, Olivia.”

  “Where’s Finn?” Dad asks as we go into the dining room.

  “Downstairs with Camille,” I yell back at him. We all know why they came to our house tonight, and I can hear my dad’s heavy footsteps leaving the kitchen.

  “That was mean,” Jon says. “Whose side are you on?”