We don’t say much on the drive home. Chloe found a radio station that’s already playing Christmas music, even though Thanksgiving isn’t officially over yet.
I try to focus on the music and not on what she and I will be doing soon, assuming she hasn’t changed her mind by the time we arrive. And it’s okay if she has.
It would probably be a good thing if she has, because hell if I can bring myself to deny her if she still wants me.
Chloe sings along with a Christmas song. She hits a few notes wrong but doesn’t seem to care. She sings her heart out like the world will be a better place for it.
And maybe it will.
“You can sing along, too,” she tells me, still keeping with the melody of the lyrics…mostly.
“That’s okay. I’m enjoying listening to you sing them.” Mostly because she’s fucking adorable.
“Now you see why I’m not the one teaching the kids the songs. Thank God. I was getting nervous I’d have to do it, and that would be an epic disaster.”
“But you were still planning to do the show even if Josephine hadn’t agreed to help out.” It’s not a question. It’s just fact. Chloe’s that kind of person. She wants to make everything around her better, even if she stumbles while doing so.
“That’s right. But luckily for the seniors, that won’t be the case.”
My attention’s on the road, but I can’t miss the grin in her tone that’s no doubt reflected on her face.
She goes back to singing. I’m getting the idea that this beautiful, sweet, and generous woman is a massive fan of Christmas.
“So, now that the holiday season has officially begun,” she says in between songs, “when are we decorating your place? You’ll have to take into consideration that you have one super curious puppy, who could get into all kinds of trouble, but other than that…”
“I don’t exactly decorate for Christmas.”
That gets a loud gasp out of her. “How can you not decorate for Christmas? That’s a travesty.”
“I’m just not the kind of man who cares about decorating for Christmas.”
“You do like Christmas, right?”
“I’m not some Scrooge who has no use for it and the days leading up to it. I have young nieces and nephews whom I love sending Christmas presents.”
“But you just don’t like putting up decorations, is that it?”
“Pretty much.”
That’s not entirely true, but I’m not going to go into my reason for not bothering with any of that stuff.
“What about a Christmas tree? Is that allowed, or are you against them too?” The shock in her tone has been shoved aside, replaced with curiosity.
I shrug.
She slumps back in her seat. “Wow, I might have to rethink this fake relationship with you. I suppose that was a question I should’ve asked before agreeing to be your fake girlfriend.”
“You can’t retract it now. You’re committed to making our fake relationship work in a completely fake way.”
She laughs. “No one can accuse me of not sticking with my commitments. I’ll just have to readjust my expectations.…Are your parents and sisters like you? Are they also averse to decorating for the holidays?”
The way she says it doesn’t sound like she’s judging any of us. She’s just curious. Not nosy-curious. More like the curiosity that led Sir Isaac Newton to discover gravity.
It’s what makes her such a great teacher. She fills her students with the same level of wonder, leaving them questioning everything around them—the way a great teacher should.
“No, my mom and sisters are more like you. They love everything about the holiday season, except they usually wait until December to start decorating. Plus, Mom loves to bake. Cookies. Cakes. Pies. You name it, she bakes it. Evie and Kathy like to give her a hard time and call her Martha Stewart’s lost sister—only nowhere near as anal.”
I can see that. If my mom makes a mistake, she claims it gives whatever she’s working on character. She doesn’t get upset.
