12
Taylor
Don’t be nervous,” Paige whispered to me as we stood outside my dad’s front door. At least it wasn’t the house I’d grown up in. Thank God, he had sold that and bought a new home on the west end after marrying Olivia. I wasn’t sure I could handle entering our old house after all these years. Watching him in the same dining room that mom had served us our Christmas Eve dinner would have been scraping fingernails against mysoul.
“I’m not nervous,” I answered quickly. Too quickly. Because it was total bullshit. I knew it and Paige definitely knew it,too.
The tree lighting had been surprisingly fun. Cheesy as all hell, of course, but what do you expect in a town like Maple Grove? People literally stood around, singing carols and drinking cocoa from Elsa’s diner. As part of Cam and Lydia’s engagement party, the town let them put the angel on top of the tree together. It was sickeninglysweet.
Paige squeezed my hand, bringing my back to the present and leveled me with a look that saidyeah right. “I texted Scott,” she said, “And he’s already inthere.”
Nerves and unease collided in my chest. I didn’t know how I felt about the fact that both Paige and Scott have had Christmas Eve dinner here in past years. I swallowed hard. I mean, it made sense. Scott was Dad’s son… and he was local. Once the beans were spilled back in high school, there was no reason for him to keep hiding it. And Paige was Scott’s sister—if Scott was coming to dinner, it made sense that Paige would be invited, too, especially after their mother passedaway.
“It’s okay he’s here, right?” Paige asked quietly. “Maybe it’ll help… seeing a friendlyface.”
The front door swung open before I had a chance to respond, and I gritted my teeth, forcing the smile to tug my lips toward my eyes. This was the most acting I’ve done since highschool.
A startled man stood in front of us, a patchwork diaper bag around his shoulders. “Oh! Paige! Hey! I didn’t know you were coming tonight!” He stepped aside, allowing us to enter, then held out a hand to me. “Is this yourdate?”
Paige cleared her throat. “Yes. This is Taylor. TaylorWilson.”
I managed to nod and take his hand next as Brian’s face lit up. “Oh, my gosh. Of course! I didn’t recognize you at first. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Your dad brags about you all the time. His son, the tight end of the Patriots!” He cradled my handshake with both hands like I was something to be cherished. “I’m Brian, Olivia’sson.”
I don’t know why I was rendered so speechless. It wasn’t a crazy idea that Dad’s new wife would have her own children from another marriage. Yet, it had always just been Dad, mom, and me for years, almost two decades. We led quiet lives and had “dignified” holiday dinners with Gram andGrandad.
Inside, beyond Brian, it looked like a party. People stood around, talking. Three kids ran around adults’ legs screaming and laughing. This? Here? This wasn’t the Wilson Christmas Iknew.
A woman walked up, holding a crying baby that couldn’t have been more than nine monthsold.
“Brian, did you find herpaci?”
Brian released my hand, giving an apologetic look at the woman. “Sorry sweetie. I got sidetracked.” Then, turning to me, he said, “Taylor, this is my wife,Emily.”
She smiled at me, bouncing the crying baby on her hip and without missing a beat, took my hand. “Taylor! It’s so nice to meetyou.”
Brian moved passed me. “I’ll be rightback.”
“Come on in,” Emily said, leading the way through the foyer. “Olivia is going to be so excited you’rehere!”
Paige took my hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze. “You okay?” shewhispered.
Even though I nodded, I wasn’t sure of the answer. Was I okay with all this? Paige had told me Dad’s holidays were extravagant, but I had thought she meant in décor and fanfare, like when I was a kid. Not in family andhappiness.
In the kitchen, I stared, jaw dropped as I witnessed my dad chasing the three kids around the granite island with a marshmallow gun. They screamed and laughed as he pulled the trigger sending a sticky marshmallow launching through the air and hitting one of the kids on theshoulder.
Throwing his fist in the air triumphantly, he shouted, “I am the marshmallowking!”
Did my Dad have a lobotomy? I knew people could change, but I didn’t know they could do a total180.
“Who’s that?” one of the kids said, halting the game and pointing atus.
Dad’s face fell when he saw me and he stood straighter, dropping the marshmallow gun at his side. I felt like an asshole. An outsider. And I hated that whatever joy Dad had been feeling seemed to evaporate like a single drop of water in the desert at the mere sight ofme.
Dad walked over to me, then turned to look at the little boy. “This is Taylor, my son. Taylor, this is Caleb, Emily and Brian’soldest.”
Caleb smiled wide at me and his bottom front tooth wasmissing.
I mustered a smile. “Hey Caleb, it’s nice to meetyou.”
