I open my mouth to ask another question when Nonni interrupts me, “And Sunday morning, we’ll open presents after breakfast and spend some time together before everyone has to depart.” She turns to face me. “Now that the schedule is settled, let’s start decorating these trees.”
The sound of “White Christmas” is drifting through the cinnamon-, clove-, and pine-scented air around us. The heat from the lit fireplace and the twinkling white lights of the Christmas tree standing is giving me all the warm and cozy vibes. I smile, inhaling a large breath, and soak everything in.
It’s the type of peace and joy that you can only feel during the holidays. Luke’s grandmother has gone all out with her Christmas decorations. Her whole house is filled with nutcrackers, green and gold tinsel, and all shapes and sizes of the one and only Saint Nick.
My favorite piece is her giant nativity scene that sits proudly on her front lawn. One day, when I have my own children andgrandchildren to enjoy, I hope to provide a safe and comfortable place for everyone to enjoy the holidays, just like this.
If I can ever find that special someone to start a family with.
There it is, that familiar sting of loneliness, somehow finding its way into my thoughts even when I’m surrounded by so much joy. I look around the room, my eyes finding Sophie and her family together, and watch them giggle as they help Emma place an ornament onto the tree. My chest tightens with a familiar ache, a longing I never say out loud—I want what they have.
I shake the thoughts away and look down next to me where I have a box of old ornaments that I’m sorting through. I pull a candy cane away from my mouth, the taste of cooling peppermint lingering on my tongue as I say, “I like this one.”
I hold up an ornament made from dough that’s in the shape of a gingerbread man, however this person flipped it upside down and turned it into a reindeer with a bright-red nose. Luke’s grandmother looks up from her handful of ornaments to inspect the one I'm holding.
“Turn it around,” she says, a slight twinkle in her dark eyes, although it could just be the reflection of the lights on the Christmas tree, but I doubt it.
I do as she says and twist the dough ornament in my hand to see a small carved-out name with a date etched next to it. My eyes search the room until they land on Luke, who’s helping his cousin Rebecca by holding her son.
He’s always been attentive, attuned to those around him, and it’s one of the many qualities of Luke that makes him so charming. Every movement he makes is precise and efficient. It could be part of his police training, but he has always been good at reading people and adjusts his approach according to whatever they need.
I, however, am the complete opposite. I move in a rushed and disorganized fashion, unlike Luke. He’s focused on straightening out the lights on the second Christmas tree,because of course his grandmother has two trees in the same room. I can't help but wonder what it would feel like to have all his intensity focused on me for longer than a handful of moments.
“That’s the third one of Luke’s ornaments you have picked out. The way you both are so in tune with each other is rare,” his grandmother exclaims, snapping me out of my Luke-filled daze.
“I guess being best friends for fifteen years will do that to ya,” I reply.
“It’s more than just the years of friendship between you two.” She nudges my arm with her elbow, along with my heart. I remind myself that I’m supposed to be more than his friend right now.
“Oh yeah. Of course,” I correct myself.
I can admit that I love Luke. Why wouldn’t I love my best friend? But if I'm being honest with myself, I know that the love has always gone beyond friendship. This whole pretending thing has started to mess with my head, making me wonder if Luke might actually want something more with me in the same way that I’ve been thinking of lately.
I can’t afford to think that way, though, so I press against the bruise he created on my heart years ago—one that’s never fully healed—and remind myself it’s better this way. This is the way that I get to keep him.
I’m quiet the rest of the time we decorate the trees. There are six trees total in the house, four of them already decorated, but Luke’s grandmother kept the two trees in her large living room bare so that the family could decorate together. Once everything is finished, we sit back and admire our hard work.
My eyes travel around the room, at the proud smiling faces, at the kids in the background who are supposed to be making popcorn garland but are eating it instead, and my gaze settles on the man sitting in the corner in a wheelchair. Davis’ nurse is pushing him into the room, but he holds up a hand, whisperingsomething to her, and she stops. He’s staring at his family, taking in this moment much like I was, and even from here I can see the hint of shining tears in his eyes.
It makes my chest ache.
I’m overwhelmed with compassion for him, even though a piece of me doesn’t think he deserves it. I have never hated someone in my life, but he came really close to being the first. The man that’s before me doesn’t appear to be the same man from the past. I pray that I’m right and that Luke can find it in his heart to see it too.
I don’t know what comes over me. It feels as if something is pushing me toward Davis. Everyone else is paying attention to the trees and to each other…everyone but Luke, whose eyes I can sense watching me closely from across the room.
I stop in front of Davis, nervous energy pulsing throughout my body, and I give him a wobbly smile. “Merry Christmas, Davis.”
He stares up at me, his eyes so dark that they look like black pits, and the wrinkle between his brows grows as he takes me in until recognition seems to hit him.
“Olivia. It’s nice to see you.” His voice is deep, husky, and nothing like I remembered.
“Come on.” I reach out to him and wait for him to take my hand.
He hesitates for a moment, but then he places his cold hand into mine, and a small smile tugs on his dry lips. I gently pull on his hand, motioning for his nurse to follow me, and lead Davis across the living room until he’s in front of the largest tree. A few family members come up to him and give him a hug.
I take a step back and look up at Luke, and I find him already watching me. I can’t read his expression for a moment until he peers down at Davis, swallows back whatever emotions he’s currently feeling, and takes a step away from everyone.
He’s battling something deep inside, and I understand that he wants to run, but running doesn’t fix anything.I take his hand into mine, a silent reminder that he doesn’t have to flee or do this alone. I rub my thumb against his skin in a comforting way, hoping it helps to calm the whirlwind of emotions going on inside of him.
