Page 100 of Pining for You

“How do you feel about talking to someone professional?”

“Maybe. And actually, I found out about a support group yesterday. Specifically for siblings of addicts.”

“I didn’t even know that was a thing!” she says, almost guiltily.

“I’m not sure it’s something I want to do yet, but yeah… now I know it’s a thing.”

“And now I do too,” Naomi says. “And knowledge is power.”

“Diya’s always saying that,” I note.

“Of course she is; she’s a smart kid,” Naomi says. “And so are you. Whatever you decide, though, you can always talk to me about anything. I promise I’ll make more time for you.”

I nod, swallowing down the lump in my throat.

“How about this?” Naomi continues. “We have the Bazaar today and the party tonight, and we’re going to go and have the best time because this is your last Christmas Eve at Cooper, so it’s going to be extra sleigh-bell-jingling, ring-ting-tingling special. Then in the morning, we can sit next to this beautiful tree you got us and have hot cocoa and listen to Dolly’s Christmas classics. At some point tomorrow, I have to go see your sister, but after that, I think you and I make our own mac and cheese—none of this microwave stuff on Christmas Day—have Christmas dinner together, and we can talk. Really talk. I want to hear all about your applications. You can tell me your ideas, and we can start thinking through the pros and cons of your possibilities for next year, because believe it or not, you’re not doing that alone. You understand that, right?”

I nod.

“Then for dessert, I’ll make biscuits and whip, and if your friends are around, maybe they can come join us? Nothing smooths a rough patch like flour, sugar, butter, and cream.”

I let a little smile show now. I know I have work to do if my friends are going to want to hang out with me, even though biscuits and my mother’s company would be a very good start to enticing them. I just have to think of a way to apologize.

When my mom stands, I grab my backpack from the floor to finally go take a very hot, very overdue shower. But Naomi stops me. This time, she pulls me in for a hug, and I nearly collapse into the wave of comfort. I can’t remember the last time my mom and I had a high-quality hug. It’s like a soothing mug of hot tea after a morning of shoveling the driveway.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she says. “This girl you mentioned—she would be so lucky to have your love. But if it’s not meant to be, the only way through the pain is straight down the middle. Just don’t ever forget, you’ve got friends and family on all sides to walk it with you.”

I nod, acknowledging that I hear her, though my heart still feels heavy thinking of Eve. “You’d better go. I’m so sorry I made you so late,” I say.

“They’ll survive without me for a few more minutes,” she says, waving me off. “I’m going to appreciate this beautiful tree my daughter got for me a little more first.”

“A little Christmas magic, I hope,” I say, but as I turn toward my room, she stops me again.

“Pop-Tart,” my mom says, really looking at me. “You are my Christmas magic.”

29

The magic of the Cooper Christmas Eve party is in the details. It’s in the wreaths, handmade by the staff from stray bits of our trees. It’s in every one of the stockings hung around the barn, each with an employee’s name in green-and-red sequins. It’s in the menorah old man Cooper made himself with maple wood in his workshop. And then there’s the food. The roasted chestnuts, the sage-stuffed goose, the plum pudding. It’s all so decadent and festive, it gives the entire barn the vibe of a Dickens novel. Hugo would love it.

By the time I walk in, I’m feeling somewhat normal again. The Bazaar was a huge success, despite the storm. When we all arrived, the farm was abuzz even more than usual. Seichi’s dad had already plowed the trails, and some of the younger employees were blow-drying Betty—the most ancient but beloved tractor on the farm—since she doesn’t have a defroster. Some of the vendors even brought snowblowers from home to help out in the smaller spaces, plus portable space heaters for their booths.

The biggest surprise, though, was that the turnout was even bigger than expected. It’s like the community was even more motivated to come out to support the farm after the storm. We sold out of pecan pie squares in the second hour, Diya’s tree raffle raised not only enough to update old Betty, but to buy a new tractor too, which will be huge for the farm, and the costumes Cash put together for us were immortalized in the end-of-the-day company photo, with extra ambiance from the mountains of snow. Overall, it was a perfect way to mark my last Christmas as a Cooper employee. Or it would have been, if my friends and I weren’t kind of avoiding each other all day.

But it was also a very good distraction. I can’t say I haven’t still spiraled at some points about Eve, replaying that kiss and wishing desperately things had gone differently with her and my friends. It’s like Naomi said, I have to feel the feels—about Eve, about the future and my applications, about my family situation. But for the most part we were so busy, I’d get interrupted before I could really go down the rabbit hole. And now, just for tonight, I want to let my heart be light and make up with the three most important people in my life.

After a short break to get ourselves cleaned up I arrive and spot Izaac, Cash’s plus-one, first. No surprise, he’s looking iconic in a velvet suit that is as black as the winter night sky.

I lift my chin and reach down deep for strength but also love.

Just remember, friendship isn’t erased in a single argument.

It’s hard to believe that I haven’t done some kind of permanent damage, but I’m trying to trust my mother. I have to. I won’t be able to face my friends otherwise.

A nervous whoosh sweeps through me as I catch his eye. What if he turns away? What if he doesn’t want to see me at all?

But through the crowd, he tilts his glass of sparkling cider in my direction and nods, which I take as permission to approach. As soon as I am close enough to get a whiff, I’m washed in the comforting smell of cloves and baby powder, as familiar and reliable as my own mother’s shampoo.

“You are a dream as always,” I tell him.