“I’m driving,” he says, lifting his keys to unlock his black Range Rover. “You were kind enough to invite me, so it’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you.” I reach for the handle, but he beats me to it. His chest brushes against my back as he leans around me to open the door. I laugh nervously.
He holds my hand as I climb inside. “Tim not open doors for you?”
I think back, trying to remember. “No, I don’t think so.”
Alex doesn’t respond before closing my door. He walks around the SUV and slides into the driver’s seat. I give him my parents’ address and he types it into his GPS.
He reaches out for my hand and our fingers intertwine, staying that way as we leave the city, and we ride in comfortable silence for about fifteen minutes.
“So how did you spend Christmas growing up?” I ask, curious to learn more about him.
“My mom was very loving and nurturing, but she was also raised in a very traditional, wealthy family who didn’t do a lot for celebrations. Christmas was more of an adult’s thing in my house. My parents would throw really lavish parties; it almost felt like it was to show off their wealth rather than celebrate friends and family. I spent pretty much every Christmas with our kitchen staff.”
“Oh, that’s so sad.”
He shrugs. “I actually didn’t mind. I loved the chef. His wife and daughter treated me like I was one of their own, and since he had to work on Christmas Day, we’d all celebrate in the back. They’d even let me drink wine.” He’s smiling as he tells the story, but I can see a tinge of pain in his eyes.
“Are you still close with them?”
“Not really. They moved back to Seattle after a few years, and since I was young, we lost touch. After my mom died, Christmas was almost nonexistent. Dad would drink alone in his study, and I’d usually find a high school or college friend I could celebrate with. So see, I’ve been mooching my way into other peoples’ holidays for years.” He laughs.
My heart aches for him, even as my anxiety about my family continues to lurk in the back of my head. Will it be too much for him? I worry my brothers will embarrass him—or worse—give him the third degree aboutus.We haven’t discussed what we will tell my family yet. I swallow down the knot in my throat.
“Well, my family can be a little…loud at times. Like I mentioned before, they’re super welcoming, but if they get a little too comfortable with jokes or get too pushy about making you do an eggnog luge, just give me a look and I’ll rescue you.”
He glances over at me. “Eggnog luge?”
“Umm, yeah. It’s a frozen sculpture of a ski slope that you put a shot of eggnog on and have to get on your knees to do. You pour it down the ice so it chills the shot, then wrap your lips around the spout so it fills your mouth.” My face reddens just describing it. “And then there’s my family’s version of the polar plunge.” The polar plunge is a tradition in the area. Every year, locals and tourists alike strip down and jump into Lake Michigan. There’s a small pond in the backyard of my childhood home, and my dad and brothers came up with a twist on the tradition, and they do it every year on Christmas.
“Don’t worry about all that, Sadie. Really. It sounds like they know how to have a good time, and I’m sure I will too.”
He makes the final turn onto my parent’s street, and their single-story ranch house comes into view. After pulling into the driveway, he puts the car in park.
“Welcome to an Emmert Christmas.” He shuts off the engine, and I look down at our hands, which are still tangled together. “I have a confession. They don’t know about Tim yet, so this is going to be confusing for them.”
“Hey,” he says, tugging gently on my hand. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine. I’m just your friend, okay?”
“Okay.”
I wait for him to walk around the car and open my door, thinking about how wonderful it is to be with a man who treats me so well. It wasn’t something I ever really thought about when Tim and I were together, but Alex’s gentlemanly behavior has really shined a light on Tim’s shortcomings.
He takes my hand to help me out of the car and we make our way to the front door. “I have a confession too,” he admits, holding up a bag I didn’t see him grab from the car. I must have been really lost in thought.
Before I can admonish him for bringing a gift after I told him not to, the door is flung open to reveal my mom, who squeals and opens her arms for a hug. I oblige her, smiling at my dad who is standing behind her.
“Mom, Dad, this is my friend, Alex.”
“Great to meet you. I’ve heard so many wonderful things. Apologies if I’m intruding,” he says as he shakes both of their hands.
“Not at all. I’m Gene,” my dad says, then gestures toward my mom. “And this is Sadie’s mom, my wife, Dawn. Happy to have you. The more the merrier, son.”
“Sadie told me not to bring anything, but I figured wine is never a bad idea.” He holds out the bag to my mom, who smiles and reaches inside.
“Oh, gracious! This looks so fancy, Alex. A Pinot Noir? That’s my favorite!” I love how genuinely excited my mom gets over the smallest gestures. She really is the most kindhearted woman. But if I had to guess, that wine she’s holding probably cost more than a week’s worth of groceries. I’m glad she doesn’t know enough about wine to realize that, or she’d probably faint.
“Come in, come in.” My dad pushes us through the entryway and is taking our coats when my two younger brothers come flying around the corner.