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“I’m fine.”
“Tessa, what did I just say?” he growls and I look up at him. He seems to have forgotten that he doesn’t get to decide things for me anymore. No one does.
He softens and corrects himself. “Sorry . . . you stay here. I’ll go shopping with her.”
“Much better,” I say and try to fight my smile.
Hardin has been so gentle, so . . . afraid the last few days. Even if he was wrong to push me, it was kind of nice to see he’s still himself.
I go into the closet to change my clothes, and just as I lift the dress over my head, he taps on the door. “Tess?”
“Yes?” I say.
After a beat he asks, “You’ll be here when we get back?”
I snort. “Yeah. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”
“Okay. If you need anything, call me,” he says; the sadness in his voice is clear.
A few minutes later I hear the front door close and I emerge from the bedroom. I probably should have gone with them so I wouldn’t be here alone with my thoughts. I already feel lonely. After watching television for an hour, I am beyond bored. Periodically my phone buzzes and my mother’s name flashes on-screen. I ignore her entirely and wish Hardin would come back already. I grab my e-reader and start to read to pass the time, but I can’t stop looking at the clock.
I want to text Hardin and see how much longer they’ll be, but instead I decide to make dinner to pass the time. I go into the kitchen to decide what to make, something that takes a while but is easy. Lasagna it is, then.
Soon it’s eight, then eight thirty, and by nine I’m already thinking again that I’ll text him.
What the hell is wrong with me? One fight with my mother and suddenly I’m back to clinging to Hardin? If I’m honest with myself, I know that I never truly stopped clinging to him. Even though I don’t really want to admit it, I know that I’m not ready for a life without Hardin. I’m not going to jump into anything wholesale with him, but I’m exhausted from battling myself all the time over him. As terrible as he has been to me, I’m even more miserable without him than I was when I found out about the entire bet. Part of me is irritated at myself for my lack of strength, but another part can’t deny how resolved I felt when I came back today. I still need a little time to think, to see how everything goes with us being around one another. I’m still so confused.
Nine fifteen. It’s only nine fifteen when I finish setting the table and cleaning up the mess I made in the kitchen. I’ll text him, just once, a simple Hey, how’s it going? just to check on him. It’s snowing, so I’m only texting him to check on him, you know, for safety reasons.
Just as I pick up my phone, the front door opens. I set my phone down covertly as Hardin and his mom enter.
“So, how was shopping?” I ask him at the same exact time that he says, “You made dinner?”
“You first,” we both say and laugh.
I hold up one hand and inform him and Trish, “I made dinner. If you already ate, that’s fine, too.”
“It smells so good in here!” his mother says as she surveys the tableful of food. Immediately she drops her bags and drops into a seat at the table. “Thank you, Tessa dear. That mall was dreadful, all the last-minute Christmas shoppers filled the place. Who waits until two days before Christmas to get their gifts?”
“Um, you,” Hardin answers and pours himself a glass of water.
“Oh, hush,” she scolds and picks off the end of a breadstick to pop into her mouth.
Hardin sits down next to his mother, and I take the chair across from her. Over dinner Trish talks about the shopping horrors they experienced and how a man was tackled by security guards for trying to steal a dress from Macy’s. Hardin swears that the dress was for the man himself, but Trish rolls her eyes and continues with the outlandish tale. I realize that the meal I prepared is actually quite good—better than usual—and almost the entire pan of lasagna is gone by the time the three of us finish. I had two servings myself—that’s the last time I’ll go all day without eating.
“Oh, we bought a tree,” his mom says suddenly. “Just a small one, but you two have to have a tree in your place—especially your first Christmas together!” She claps her hands and I laugh.
Even before everything fell apart, Hardin and I had never talked about getting a Christmas tree. I had been so distracted by moving in, and just by Hardin in general, that I nearly forgot about the holidays altogether. Neither of us had taken any interest in Thanksgiving—him for obvious reasons and me because I didn’t want to spend it at my mother’s church, so we ordered pizza and hung out in my dorm room.
“That’s okay, right?” Trish asks, making me realize I haven’t responded.
“Oh yeah, of course it is,” I tell her and look at Hardin, who is just staring at his empty plate.
Trish takes over the conversation again and I’m grateful. After a few more minutes she announces, “Well, as much as I’d love to stay awake with you party animals, I must get my beauty sleep.” Thanking me again and putting her plate into the sink, she bids us good night before leaning down to kiss Hardin on his cheek. He groans and moves away, so her lips barely brush his skin, but she seems pleased with the small amount of contact. She wraps her arms around my shoulders, placing a kiss on the top of my head. Hardin rolls his eyes, and I kick him under the table. After she disappears I stand up and put away the few remaining leftovers.
