Fuck. I’m such an asshole.
“No. I’m not fucking anyone else.” From here on out.
Chris looks skeptical as we make our way past the pool toward the patio. “Then bare your fucking soul. Give her something that will only mean something to the two of you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
Senia and I arrive at Grandma’s house a little before noon on Christmas Day. Senia insists we need to arrive early so she can help Grandma cook. Since she had to lie to her family and say she was spending Christmas with Chris and Claire, I have to do as she says. Besides, it’s kind of cool to watch her and Grandma laughing as they chop onions while I imagine the beat of my baby’s heart as the background music.
When the food is simmering, Senia sends Grandma out of the kitchen to get some rest and calls me in to replace her. The sight of her in one of Grandma’s aprons is weird, but strangely sexy.
“Can you set the table? We need plates and silverware, and bowls for the pumpkin soup.”
“Pumpkin soup?” I say, coming up behind her as she stirs the soup on the stove. She pushes my left hand away, but I reach forward and slide my right hand over her abdomen. “You can’t stand in my grandmother’s kitchen, in that apron, barking orders at me, carrying my child, and not expect me to want to touch you. You can’t expect me to not feel like I have some … claim on you.”
She lets out a deep sigh as I press my chest against her back. “Tristan …” Her voice is breathy and full of longing. “Please don’t say stuff like that. It makes me want to either punch you or tear off your clothes. And I can’t tell which one I want to do more.”
I slide my hand down and she freezes, but I quickly pull my hand back. “I guess we’ll find out soon.”
Grandma Flo makes us give thanks before we eat, the way she always does before every Christmas and Thanksgiving dinner, and Senia seems to be a pro at it.
“Thank you for the food and for inviting me into your home.” She turns to Molly and they both smile. “Thank you for reminding me how much I never want to get drunk again. There are better ways to get wild. Trust me.” She winks at Molly and I shake my head. “Thank you, Mrs. Pollock, for giving me a place to celebrate Christmas – somewhere I can be myself.” Grandma smiles a crooked smile that seems to be masking whatever anguish, emotional or physical, she is feeling. “Tristan,” Senia begins as she turns to me. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
“What?” I prompt her, but she closes her mouth and eyes and doesn’t speak.
When she opens her eyes, I expect her to be crying. She seems to cry at the drop of a hat these days with all those hormones coursing through her. “Excuse me,” she whispers as she rises from her chair and heads for the front door.
I follow after her and she stands on the porch steps where I just finished clearing the snow an hour ago, waiting for something. “What’s wrong?” She shakes her head and I step down onto the step below her so we’re almost eye-level. “Talk to me.”
“I’ve just never spent Christmas without my family.”
“I’ll take you there. You don’t have to stay here.”
“No, I have my car. If I wanted to leave, I’d go. You know that.”
“Is that why you brought your car?” I ask. “I thought you brought it so you could stop by your parents’ house and say hi to your family.”
“That is why I brought it … I …”
“I don’t understand. If you want to be here, why are you upset?”
She steps sideways so our faces aren’t so close and a thick cloud of steam escapes her mouth as she lets out a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. I just need a minute. I’ll come back inside soon.”
I wait a moment for her to change her mind and tell me she’s coming inside, but she doesn’t. “It’s cold. Don’t stay out here too long.”
She closes her eyes and I take that as my cue to head back in. I leave the front door open and take a seat at the dining table, which, thankfully, still has a view of the front door.
“Where’s Senia?” Molly asks as she sips a glass of cranberry juice.
“She’s just missing her family a little. She’ll be back inside in a couple of minutes.”
But a couple of minutes turns into nearly fifteen minutes and I have to check on her. When I open the door, Senia’s car is gone. My first instinct is to hop into my car and go to her parents’ house, but they don’t know about me yet and I don’t want to cause her any more trouble then she may already be in for not showing up to their Christmas dinner.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. It’s a long-shot, but I have to at least try to call her. Not surprisingly, she doesn’t answer, but I’m not upset because I’ve been a bit of an asshole to her about using her phone while driving. I look up and down the street, foolishly hoping she may have just parked a few houses away to think in the warmth of the car heater, but her car is nowhere. I wait a few minutes, to give her some time to get wherever she’s going, then I begin typing a text message to her.
Me: Where are you?
I hesitate before I hit the send button. This text message sounds demanding. I swallow my pride and type two more words.
Me: Where are you? I’m worried.
I hit send and I get a response a few minutes later, just as Molly comes outside to see what’s going on.
Senia: I’m home. I’m in the study catching up on my homework.
I’m confused. She just said that she was upset because she wasn’t spending Christmas with her family and now she’s gone home – to our home – instead of to her family’s house. Why do women have to be so fucking complicated? I think as I reach into my pocket and grab my keys.
“Can I come with you?” Molly asks.
I smile. “Not this time. I think Senia and I have some stuff to talk about.”
Molly laughs. “You’re whipped.”
“What? I am not whipped.”
“Yeah, you are. But that’s okay. She’s worth it.”
I shake my head as I head for my car. “Tell Grandma she doesn’t need to clean up. I’ll send Lily over tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t be a pussy!” she shouts at me as I slide into the driver’s seat. “Tell her how you feel.”
Chapter Twenty
Senia
I probably screwed things up with Tristan and his family, but I couldn’t sit there and pretend like my mind wasn’t elsewhere. And I couldn’t tell Tristan what I was thinking. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m clingy and demanding. I needed a timeout.
So here I am in Tristan’s study, which is right next door to the room where he practices bass for hours at a time. If he’s that dedicated to his job, I should try to be that dedicated to my schoolwork. I can’t let all this family stuff and all these emotions sidetrack me. But now that Tristan knows I’m here, I fully expect him to come walking through the door into the study and say something totally stupid or totally dreamy. It won’t matter because, either way, it won’t be the words I want to hear; the same words I nearly blurted out at his Grandma’s dining table.
I’m such an idiot. I need to move out of here.
I grab my laptop and textbook then head back to my bedroom. I grab my suitcase out of the closet and begin stuffing the inner pocket with all my panties and bras. Then I pull a zipped case out from underneath the bed: my new goodie drawer since I know Tristan has probably searched all the drawers on this dresser.