“Lots and lots of years because you’re old,” Uncle Leo adds, and we all laugh as Nonni swats at him playfully.
“Oh, you hush!”
Thirty minutes later, we’re all covered in colorful frosting, sugar still dusting the counter, as we clean up the cookie chaos we created. Somehow, that turns into a heated debate over the ultimate Christmas movie.
“Oh, come on. You all can’t deny that it’sMiracle on 34th Street! It’s a classic,” Aunt Andy argues.
Jerrica folds her arms over her chest. “No, because it’sHome Alone. Both one and two.”
I want to agree with her because it’s my favorite, but before I can, Luke pipes in and adds, “Everyone knows thatDie Hardis the best Christmas movie.”
“Of course you’d think that. You’re a cop,” Uncle Leo snarks.
“Have you guys ever noticed how evil Kevin McCallister is? He enjoys inflicting pain on people,” Luke argues.
“He was protecting his house,” Jerrica tosses, rolling her eyes.
Rebecca adds, “He stays calm and collected before nearly killing a man with a paint can.”
Luke laughs, and I light up at the sound, even if he is dissing my favorite Christmas movie. “He casually hurls a thousand-pound tool chest down the stairs at the guys, throws bricks off a rooftop at them, and purposely burns himself just to feel something.”
The argument goes on for a few minutes until the debate is temporarily settled, and everyone moves on. Luke glances over at Davis, who is having a discussion with Nonni, appearing exhausted. His nurse taps him on the shoulder, whispers something to him, and he gives her a nod. Before he’s wheeled away, he peers over his shoulder at the two of us, directly at Luke, asadness shining within his dark eyes as he’s pushed into another room.
I’ve been so wrapped up in my feelings that I forgot the reason why we agreed to fake date this weekend. I’m here to support Luke, not to make things harder for him. I’m here to help him get through this extremely difficult time, because I couldn’t begin to imagine how he must be feeling.
Once Davis is out of sight, Luke’s body loosens, and I take his hand into mine. “Gremlinsis a good one,” I add, a grin pulling on my lips, and Luke grins down at me.
“Oh, come on, that’s not a real Christmas movie,” Jerrica tosses over her shoulder before she disappears into the kitchen.
“Neither isEdward ScissorhandsorBatman Returns,but they’re still considered Christmas movies,” I add, which earns me a few groans and eye rolls from everyone.
I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from smiling. This leads us into more discussions about movies that are claimed to be Christmas movies but really aren’t. We settle on watchingTheSanta Clausefor the evening. Everyone munches on their decorated sugar cookies and sips on hot chocolate as we all settle in the living room.
Snuggling next to Luke on the loveseat feels natural. However, there’s nothing fake about how easily he drapes his arm around me, and a flutter deep down in my core has me wondering if we’re still pretending, or if things are actually shifting. I don’t feel dishonest when I walk around and grab everyone’s dirty dishes to take into the kitchen, dropping a kiss onto the top of Luke’s head as I pass by, his fingers catching mine with a gentle squeeze before I walk away.
As I make my way through the dim house, Wren’s words from yesterday ring through my mind.“Just have fun this weekend. Don’t overthink things. Let whatever happens, happen. And then when you’re back home, you can go back to overanalyzing everything and weigh your options.” I’m trying to tell myself that things will go back to normal once we’re home. But here, now,in this home full of Christmas spirit, I’m finding myself wanting to give in to the holiday magic and let things between us blur a little more.
After the movie is over, everyone groggily retreats to their bedrooms. Luke and I take turns in the bathroom, and once we’re both under the covers, bodies turned in opposite directions, I remain wide awake.
I try counting sheep, but it doesn’t work. I pray because, let's be honest, sometimes my nighttime prayers help me drift off to sleep, but even that doesn't help. Luke adjusts his position next to me, his cold foot landing on mine, and he jerks it away quickly.
“Luke,” I whisper.
“What?” he whispers back.
“Are you awake?”
“No. I’m talking in my sleep.”
I reach my foot back until I can lightly kick him, and he chuckles, twisting around, and I do the same until we’re facing each other. The moonlight is pouring in through the window, which might be part of the issue as to why we’re both awake. Its light casts over Luke’s face, creating shadows that only enhance his sharp angles. He’s a beautiful mess, his hair sticking up from where he was lying before, and his eyes slit lazily, like he’s moments away from falling asleep.
And I should let him. However, I want him to be awake with me.
“I can’t sleep,” I admit, breaking the silence.
“Me either. Want me to tell you a story?”
“Yes please,” I say, in desperate need of a distraction.
