Tyler shoots him a blank look, turns back to me. “Is this why you’re going caroling? To get out of helping with the dishes?”
“Of course not,” I balk. “I’m going to make my girlfriend happy.”
His brow ticks up. “Your barista girlfriend.”
“That’s right.” I lift my chin, pressure building in my chest. Like hell am I letting him take a shot at her for what she does. Yeah, the irony isn’t lost on me, but rational thinking left the building the moment Finley walked off the plane. “Do you have a problem with what my girlfriend does for a living?”
“I don’t.”
The insinuation that I do hangs in the air.
“People are more than their profession,” Dad says gently. “It’s what’s in their hearts that matters.”
I force a laugh. “You love her because she has a cat.”
“You can often tell a person’s heart by how they treat animals,” Dad says. “I suppose she’s close to hers?”
“She is. She was a wreck when it got sick.”
“And you noticed she was upset,” Tyler says in a challenge, not a question.
“Yes, actually,” I reply, smug. “I did. Finley’s one of the sweetest, most outgoing people I know, and she was unusually quiet. The first day, I figured it was just an off day. By the second, I knew something was wrong, so I asked if she was okay. She told me her cat was sick and might not make it.”
Guilt twists in my gut. While it’s true I noticed, I forgot about her as soon as I walked out the door that day. Why didn’t I ask if she was okay? Especially after she asked me, just nine months earlier.
Tyler lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Okay. I stand corrected. But you have to admit that’s not typical for you.”
I scowl and stack Finley’s now empty plate on mine.
“I thought you were cutting back on sugar,” Tyler needles, refusing to let this go.
“It’s Christmas, Ty. Everyone eats sugar at Christmas.”
“He’s right,” Dad says, patting his belly.
“You always eat sugar,” Tyler says with a laugh. “Especially when Mom’s not looking.”
Dad grins and points his fork at my brother. “What your mom doesn’t know, doesn’t always hurt her.”
“What don’t I know?” Mom asks as she enters the kitchen, wearing a red sweater over jeans.
Dad’s face softens when he sees her. They’ve been married for thirty-three years and are still each other’s best friends. The magic is still there—I see the way they sometimes look at each other, like they’re the only two in the world.
It hits me that none of the relationships I’ve had have even come close to what they have. Is it because love like theirs is so rare it’s almost unattainable? Or have I been picking the wrong women?
I don’t like the answer, mostly because I know it’s true.
Dad’s eyes now gleam with mischief. “What I got you for Christmas.”
“I don’t buy that for a second.” She makes a face at him as she walks over to the sink but then she’s grinning at him like he’s incorrigible.
“You step away from those dirty dishes,” Dad says as he gets to his feet. “Tyler and I have it covered.”
I grab the plates and bowls and head over to the island while Mom gives me a speculative look. “What?” I ask defensively.
“I’m just surprised that you want to go caroling.”
Do I want to go caroling? Not even a little. I’d rather smash my hand with a hammer. In hindsight, I should have suggested Finley go with them while I stayed behind to clean. But Mom’s glowing and Finley’s beaming—maybe I can survive fifteen minutes then slip away.
