I turn around, and he’s already looking up at me, his lips still downturned. I hate that look on him when I know he means it. I put my hands on either side of his face and tilt it up and kiss him until he makes a soft sound against my mouth.
When I pull back, he keeps his eyes closed for a second, coming back online slowly from the weed. “I don’t want to leave,”
“Then don’t.”
“Mike.”
“I know.” He opens his eyes. “I know, you promised. I’m just saying you could always un-promise. We could do something here instead. Get a shitty tree and—”
“They’ll have already told the kids, I don’t want them to be disappointed, I don’t get to see them much anymore,” I tell him, even though the thought of spending Christmas with Mike is sounding better and better.
I need to go home, no matter how tempting his offer is.
“I know,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor.
“Hey.” I back up until I can sit on the edge of the bed and reach for his hand, pulling him closer until he’s doing his version of towering over me. “You’ll still have the guys. Zara said she wasn’t going home for Christmas. Maybe you could throw one of your parties.”
“Yeah.” He nods, but it’s the least enthusiastic nod I’ve ever seen. “I guess I’ll figure it out.”
“Mike,” I run my thumb over his knuckles. “What’s actually going on? I know you don’t want me to go, but is something else bothering you?”
“Nothing. I just—” He pauses with a deep exhale. “I love Christmas. Well. I used to.”
“When your parents were alive?”
He nods once. “But now…” He shrugs like it doesn’t matter, even though it clearly does. “I hate being alone this time of year.”
My mind drifts to a younger Mike, suddenly without his parents and without anyone who cared what kind of Christmas he had. What traditions his family had. Memories only he remembers.
I wish I could give that to him.
“Maybe I could come with you,” he suggests. He plays it off as an idea he thought of on the spot, but I can tell it’s not. That’s why he came in here.
The words hang in the air between us.
Maybe I could come.
I want to say yes.
I want that more than anything. A version of my life where Mike meets Nate as my boyfriend, sits at the table at Ben’s house, and lets Noah talk his ear off, and has a real place in my life. A real Christmas with a real family that loves him because I—
But I remember Nate’s face that day I asked him for advice.Alex met a girl.
The excitement.
The relief.
I want Mike to come home with me.
But twelve days of navigating my family, of Mike sitting next to me and having to pretend I haven’t been inside of him more times than I can count. That he’s my roommate with nowhere to go.
A friend at best.
I look up at him now, waiting for my answer with his face arranged into something neutral, and I know that he already knows what I’m going to say.
His face falls, and I watch it happen in real time. The disappointment that he can’t hide. He nods, and then he shakes his head, looking away completely. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“I’m sorry,” I reach for him, but he pulls back. “I would bring you if I could, but—”
