“I kind of have to when we’re covered in snow every year,” she mutters, not fully meeting my eyes. “I guess I do like it. I like the seeing my friends and family part the most but the whole gift giving thing was always an afterthought.”
“My parents are having Christmas Eve dinner at home this year. They invited us but I wasn’t going to go because my mom and I are in a weird place. But if you want to, we can go,” I ramble, unable to stop the momentum.
I wasn’t going to mention that I was invited because as soon as I got the message from Clara, I was going to decline it but hearing this, I had to ask.
“Of course, I’ll go. How could I miss the opportunity to see baby pictures of you,” she beams.
“Are you sure? My family is a little…unhinged.” I cringe at myself.
“They can’t be anymore unhinged than mine.”
“Let’s test that theory, shall we?”
Wren gives me a wide smile before shoving more salad into her mouth. She chews thoughtfully, looking down at her food and then at me.
“You never talk about your parents. Is there anything I should know before we go?” she asks cautiously. I let my heartbeat pick up before forcing it to settle and get it out.
“My mom had an affair a few years ago and I only just found out,” I say quickly, trying to get it all out there at once. “That’s why we’re in a weird situation.”
“Oh, that sucks. I’m sorry,” Wren replies, sympathetically. “But your parents are still together, right?”
“Yeah, that’s the weird part. My dad somehow found it within himself to forgive her. When I thought they were going on date nights it turns out they were going to couples therapy,” I laugh but it sounds forced.
“And you haven’t forgiven her?” It sounds more like statement than a question, as if she can already tell. Like she’s able to see right through me.
“I’m trying to. I’m just scared that if I see her, I won’t know how to act,” I admit. “We haven’t really spoken since I found out and I don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“That’s something that will come to you when we go. I’m going to be there. If you want to leave at any time, I can pretend I have diarrhoea or something,” she suggests, laughing. I laugh with her but shake my head.
“I couldn’t let you do that. I don’t think Clara would ever let us live it down,” I say, and her eyes widen. She scrambles from her side of the table and kneels in front of me, her hands on my shoulders, shaking them slightly.
“Shit, Miles. I forgot you have a sister. She’s going to hate me,” she concedes frantically. I chuckle and put my arms on her shoulders, like she’s doing to me.
“She’s going to love you, Wren. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah, but she’s agirl. She’ll know. She’ll find something she doesn’t like. I know she will.”
“There is nothing about you that she wouldn’t like. You’re perfect.”
It’s like time stopped when I said that. It’s like everything else around us seized to exist and we’re left floating outside of this moment. Oblivion. I knew I was cutting it close by saying ‘love’ and ‘perfect’ in one go. I watch her, almost in slow-motion as she takes in a sharp inhale.
We stare at each other for a long minute, the weight of the day crashing down on us as my words hang in the space between us. All the hurt and anger that was there when she was talking to her mom earlier has vanished. Instead, she looks at me with a smoothed out and relaxed expression. Her eyes drop to my lips, and I wet them on purpose. She hums. The noise ripples through me.
We haven’t been this close since the night after the game. I don’t move as she brings her hand from my shoulder to my cheek. Her thumb brushes just beneath my eye as her slender fingers reach the back of my ear.
"Miles," she whispers my name like it's something sacred. The word comes out of her mouth like a sigh, as if she's tired, frustrated and fed-up all in one.
I mirror her position, my hands curling around her neck as she inhales again We look at each other, dangerously, ready to risk everything. Then, with the shreds of the self-control I have left, I drop my forehead to hers.
“I should go,” I whisper into the space between us.
She lets out a sigh before nodding. I stand up and grab my jacket and I look back at her when I almost reach the door.
"Thank you," she murmurs.
"What?" I ask. She’s still in the position that I left her in, kneeling down, staring out of the apartment window.
"I said, thank you. For everything."
