I wait a few minutes, and when he hasn’t made an appearance, I text to ask him where he is.
There’s no answer.
I try to catch Mrs. Taft’s eye to give her a questioning look, but I never do, almost like . . . she’s avoiding me.
After fifteen minutes, I’m too restless to make small talk with his brother, who also mysteriously doesn’t mention Levi. I give up and show myself upstairs. If he’s feeling bad, I’d rather lie beside him quietly than be in the middle of the party downstairs.
His room is the second on the left, and when I knock, he doesn’t answer. I turn the knob and poke my head in, calling his name softly. “Levi?”
But he’s not there. His bed looks like he hasn’t touched it.
What is going on?
I head back downstairs and straight to Mrs. Taft, who darts for the kitchen, murmuring about needing another popcorn bowl.
“Mrs. Taft?”
“Hello, dear. You look so pretty,” she says, not even turning around. “Now, I know there’s another bowl in here somewhere.” She rummages through a cabinet.
“Sheryl.”
She sighs and turns around. “Levi isn’t here.”
“I figured that out. Where is he?”
Her eyes fill with worry. “He asked to borrow Dave’s car, and he left about two hours ago. Said he had to take care of something in the city and that he’d be late. Said we shouldn’t wait up for him.”
It’s like she scooped out my insides with the dull edge of a juice glass.
“Are you okay, Taylor?” she asks.
“Fine, Mrs. Taft. Thank you for telling me.” I’m frozen for a minute, unsure of what to do. Do I go home and crawl into the queen bed I’ll share with Sara? Stay like nothing is wrong?
The last thing I want to do is cast a pall over anyone else’s Christmas—especially when tomorrow is already so iffy with Rome. I force a smile for Mrs. Taft, then turn and walk into the living room. I don’t have it in me to make small talk with anyone, but I sit in my spot on the love seat where I always watchElfand wait for everyone else to finish chatting and eating to start the movie.
Eventually, my parents take their seats beside me, but not before I’ve played ten levels of Tetris on my phone while running through all the possibilities. What kind of assignment could the magazine give Levi on Christmas Eve? Why did he say yes to it? Why didn’t he tell me he was leaving?
The worst part is the anxiety that keeps flaring when I think about how I’ve avoided reality for the past few days, living in a love bubble, trusting that the future would magically work out. But it won’t. It can’t, not if Levi is always gone.
It’s going to be so much harder now. I can’t feel like this for weeks at a time. I want Levi to want me—us—enough to choose something different, but I’m never going to give him an ultimatum and force him to choose anything besides his dream job.
Finally, as the movie reaches the scene where Buddy the Elf’s little brother begins leading strangers in the park in some off-key caroling, my phone vibrates with a text from Levi.
LEVI:I’m so sorry, something came up. Trying my hardest to get back.
I don’t answer. The fact that work has called him out on Christmas Eve tells me everything I need to know about how things are going to play out between us.
When the movie ends, I pick up the book I wrapped for him, and I slip out while the rest of my family is still saying their goodbyes. By the time Sara gets the excited-but-overtired boys into bed, it’s late. She slides under the covers on her side and whispers my name. But I pretend I’m asleep. I don’t know what to tell her.
I don’t have any words for how bad this feels.
Chapter Eighteen
Taylor
Sarajoltsstraightupin bed, and it wakes me up too.
“What? What’s wrong?” I demand.
