“I won’t have any lipstick left,” I tease, so he takes my chin and turns my cheek to his mouth.
“No making out at the table,” Jet says, carrying a tray of cut turkey in one hand and using the other to smack Zeke in the back of the head.
“No making out, Uncle Zeke.” Millie giggles when Zeke’s cheeks blaze.
“It’s so weird seeing him like this,” Pris says, and Del nods wildly.
“What did you do to him?” she giggles and sets down a bowl.
“You all suck, and I hate you.” Zeke sits back in the hard chair and slouches.
Xan jabs his shoulders. “Sit up straight at the table.”
My attention darts all over the room, and there’s this frantic need to keep up with the action. They move as a unit, like a dance they all seem to understand inherently. It’s odd to watch because part of me feels this deep sense of longing and belonging in a tight-knit family like this. But there’s also something precarious about it. If one piece is missing, the whole thing is going to topple.
Zeke snaps his fingers in front of my face, and I startle. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Did you say something?”
Zeke nods to Xan, who is holding out a bowl of vegetables. “Want some?”
“Yes, please.”
“Look at that,” Jet says and nudges Millie. “There are manners in this house.”
Millie sticks out her tongue, and I burst out laughing. Tears spring to my eyes, and I get this sudden urge to call Dru. To come clean and go home to see my family and take Zeke so he can see how completely opposite they are. I can see it: him sitting in Mom’s dining hall under the crystal chandelier, using silver with those permanent oil stains under his fingernails, wearing his hoodie. My sister grilling him, my mom studying him. He would be just as uncomfortable in the silence of my life as I am in the chaos of his.
I laugh again, and a tear slips out. I brush it away quickly and look up to stop the rest.
“Sorry. I just, this is a lot. I miss my family.” I can’t stop the awkward sound from choking me. “This baby makes me so emotional.”
Briggs leans across the table. “Have you ever seen that commercial about the old guy sitting outside the bank, waiting for it to open? I think it’s still on.”
I shake my head, and Briggs points her fork at me, green beans skewered on it and butter dripping from them. “I sobbed. Like, bawled my eyes out, and my aunt actually banned me from watching TV for months when I was pregnant with Millie. And I don’t cry.”
“She doesn’t,” Xan says. “Me, on the other hand?”
Del bursts into fake sobs, and laughter erupts around the table. Zeke’s the only one not laughing. He’s staring out the window, and then he turns his gaze to me. He reaches under the table and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together in his lap, and comfort seeps through me like I’m absorbing it from his skin. There’s something so different in the way he’s acting tonight. The way he’s looking at me. He feels distant but more open. I don’t understand it. I make a note to ask him about it when we’re alone.
The conversation turns easily and bounces around from person to person. Mostly, the focus is on Millie. It’s her first Christmas with the Strykers, and I’m happy to have that heat off me. Watching her open her presents and tackle each one of her aunts and uncles in appreciation is a joy, but lingering deep underneath is an undercurrent of sadness or melancholy—maybe even nostalgia. Remembering Christmas with my dad. When my parents were together.
I bite on my lip to stop the emotion, refusing to be any sort of burden on this day.
Zeke is nowhere to be found, and I sink into the couch, a wallflower just like Mary, who silently ate dinner and then went back to her chair to crochet more. After about thirty minutes, Zeke jumps over the back of the couch, squishing himself between Tabby and me. He throws an arm around my shoulders and leans in to touch his lips to my ear.
“I’m taking you out of here as soon as these gifts are opened,” he whispers, and I smile to myself.
My heart stutters, and my stomach flips before dropping out completely. God, I think I’m falling for this man, and I have no idea if that’s going to make my life easier or harder.
Tabby opens her gift, a small black box from Briggs. Zeke slouches and frowns at it. Tab opens it, and inside is a key.
“What’s this for?”
“My motorhome,” Briggs says, and Tab’s jaw drops.
“No,” she says, and Zeke tenses next to me.
Xan pinches his mouth, and Jet lifts a suspicious brow. It’s clear that not everyone was on board with this idea, and again, I’m left wondering why everyone is so protective of Tabitha. That sense of unease is back, and it’s becoming clear that it’s not just Millie’s first Christmas that is a big deal. Tabitha leaves in a week, and I’m not sure anyone here is prepared for it.
There is so much more to this than what anyone is saying. I know that because I grew up listening not to words used but to the silences left between them.