“Uncle Riley, will you sit with us?” the little boy Riley had called Timmy asked, jumping up and down near Riley as if he had ants in his pants.
“At the kids’ table?” Riley scratched his jaw. “Not this year, Timmy. I’ve brought a guest with me. She needs me at the adult table with her. I have to protect her from the big people.”
Not hiding his disappointment, the boy gave Trinity a disgusted look. “She’s just a girl, Uncle Riley.”
“Just a girl, he says.” Riley ruffled the boy’s hair. “I’ll have to remind you of that in a few years.”
Trinity found herself watching Riley’s family interact, watched the open affection, the laughter, the genuine gladness to be together, and she tried not to feel envious. She also tried not to feel guilty that Riley frowned more than smiled. She wasn’t the only one who noticed and, unfortunately, various family members would shoot them curious looks from time to time, but no one asked what the problem was.
They had to be wondering, though. Why would he bring someone who so obviously didn’t fit in with their wonderful lives? Why did it even matter? After all, she wouldn’t be seeing these people ever again. Riley wouldn’t want her to.
He’d given in to his nephew’s repeated requests to come and check out the new video game Santa had brought him or he’d just given up completely on her. Either way, he’d disappeared some time ago, which was probably for the best because something his brother had said to him had made him almost growl earlier.
In a room full of people, yet oddly alone at an open archway leading into the foyer, she took a sip of hot cinnamon apple cider, liking the mix of sweet and tangy flavors and wishing it would settle her nerves.
Wishing her insides didn’t twist, her mind didn’t doubt, her stomach didn’t roil. That she really was a part of this family and could go and play video games with Riley and the kids. Or even lounge comfortably with the crew that was settling in to watch a football game and talking back and forth about which team was going to win.
She wished she could be a glass-half-full kind of girl, rather than what stared back at her in the mirror. How did one go about changing one’s reflection?
She rested her head on the archway and wished she could blend into this love-filled family.
“She doesn’t seem to be having a very good time. Neither do you, for that matter.”
Ouch. Was she supposed to have been able to overhear Riley’s youngest sister? The pregnant one. She couldn’t remember her name. She’d met so many different people today. Easily more than forty, although it might as well have been hundreds for how they’d made her head spin.
“We are a bit much to take in,” Riley said defensively. Trinity’s heart lurched at his defense but then crumbled at his next statement. “But you’re right. I shouldn’t have brought her here today, but she doesn’t have any family and I didn’t want her to be alone. Not on Christmas Day.” He paused and she couldn’t hear what his sister said. “Maybe, but, regardless, I made a grave miscalculation where she was concerned. One I dearly regret.”
He wished he hadn’t brought her? Well, duh, of course he wished he hadn’t brought her. She was ruining his day with his family. What a Christmas-killer she was.
Determined not to dampen his day or this lovely family’s day any more than she already had, she forced a smile onto her face and joined the closest group of adults to her.
Somehow she’d fake her way through the rest of the day.
Christmas couldn’t end soon enough. Was she doomed to feel this way for ever?
Taking a quick glance toward Trinity as he pulled the car out onto the highway, Riley sighed. “You’re quiet.”
She’d been quiet most of the day. With him, at any rate. When he’d come out from trying to make up to Timmy for snapping at the boy, Trinity had joined a group playing cards. She’d laughed and had seemed to enjoy herself. Except when he’d come near. Then the silent treatment had rolled in.
“Sometimes it’s better to say nothing at all.”
“Than to say something bad?” On the day after they’d first made love. Christmas morning. The entire day should have been filled with smiles and happiness. She’d clammed up and shut him out rather than embrace the goodness of what they could have shared on what was probably the only Christmas they’d spend together.
“You think I would say something bad?”
Why was it he stuck his foot in his mouth so easily where she was concerned? He loved her. He didn’t want to pick a fight with her. Not really. Or maybe he did because he felt so frustrated by the whole situation. At this point he wasn’t sure what he wanted.
“No, I don’t think you would say anything bad. What I think is that you’d sit quietly and answer a thousand questions as politely and concisely as you possibly could then go right back to being quiet, as if you’d taken a vow of silence rather than make any effort to make conversation.”
Her face flushed pink. “I made an effort to talk to your family.”
Keeping his eyes on the road and one hand on the steering-wheel, he raked his other hand through his hair. “I wanted you to like my family. To not have to make an effort to talk to them, but for it to flow naturally. I wanted them to like you.”
“I did like them.”
He heard her swallow and figured he’d said too much. That he should have held in what he wanted, because what he wanted didn’t seem to matter.
“Did they not like me?”