Page 81 of Santa Baby

I’d driven here, of course. I hadn’t taken the subway in years, but I probably should have. Every street was packed with cars. By some miracle, I’d found a parking spot five blocks from Fia’s parents’ house.

The house in question rose up before me as I climbed a set of concrete steps. Christmas music funneled through an open window somewhere around the side of the house, where the driveway was full of cars and the faint scent of cigar smoke spiced the air.

I hadn’t been nervous until this very moment, with my fist raised to knock on the door of Fia and Colin’s childhood home. I cursed under my breath as I reached down to adjust the Christmas sweater Fia bought for me for the event at the library earlier this month. Should I have worn a suit?

“Hey, what are you doing on our stoop?”

I turned to Colin’s voice with a hint of relief, which was quickly squashed when I met his eyes. “I’ve been calling you for three days.”

“It’s Christmas,” Colin said with a shrug from the driveway. “Did the distillery blow up?”

“No.” I started to edge down the steps to meet him in the driveway. This was it. I was telling him I was dating his sister and we were serious. So serious, in fact, that I was planning on proposing to her as soon as possible. Possibly tonight if my heart got the best of my head. “Colin, I wanted to talk to you about this in⁠—”

“Who’s this fella?” Two large men leaned on one of the cars smoking cigars. I hadn’t seen them from the front porch, but it was suddenly glaringly clear that Colin and I weren’t alone.

“Mason, remember? My friend from college. Come on, Mase. Let’s get you a drink.”

I gave the men a tight nod in hello but inside I was spiraling. I followed Colin to an exterior staircase leading to a snug balcony overlooking the driveway. The smell of food and sounds of merriment funneled down to us as Colin gripped the railing. Dread washed over me as he began hiking the stairs. I hurried after him, debating reaching out and grabbing his arm to stop him. I knew the second I stepped foot in the house, I wouldn’t have a moment alone with him.

“Colin,” I rasped, exacerbated. “We need to⁠—”

“Mason O’Leary!” his mother said.

Colin shook my hand from his coat as he smiled up at her. She hadn’t changed a bit since I saw her last, which had been several years ago.

“Mrs. Webster.” I nodded, smiling as kindly as I could manage despite the angst tightening my chest.

“Come up, come up, it’s freezing out here!” She waved us up enthusiastically, turning back into the house, which I soon realized was crowded.

The kitchen was full of men. Uncles. A grandfather on Colin’s maternal side, and a few gangly teenage boys trying to scrounge something to eat while they waited for dinner to be served. I was given an elaborate introduction in the packed space, where the smell of seafood was heavy and delicious. I ended up drinking an entire glass of wine in what felt like only a few seconds before I was finally allowed to move on from the kitchen into the dining room, where the women were.

Aunts and two grandmothers, as well as several children of varying ages, greeted me excitedly, peppering me with compliments.

“Oh, you’re so handsome,” one of the aunts, I’d already forgotten her name, crooned, batting her long eyelashes at me.

“He’s too young for you,” Colin said, which got him a smart, sharp smack on the arm. I was led toward the living room, where I got my first glimpse of Fia.

She was sitting on the couch with what must have been some cousins—the young adults and teenagers who were obviously banished to the furthest reaches of the house. She hopped to her feet and gave me the biggest, most excited smile. I turned to Colin. “Colin, I need to talk to you.”

“Colin!” his father called. “Where the hell is he? Ah, there he is. Hey, get over here and help your Uncle Robby get the calamari plated!”

Colin clapped me on the shoulder in farewell before I could get another word in. Defeated, I turned to Fia and felt instantly at ease. She snuggled up to my side, her fingers brushing mine but not quite taking my hand. “I didn’t even see you come in.”

“I’m not sure how you would have,” I said in just above a whisper. “There’s what, thirty people in just these three rooms?”

I wasn’t sure how big the house was, but I assumed there was a story below us, possibly an informal den and a bedroom or two, and I knew based on the staircase at our backs that there were more bedrooms upstairs. It was an older house—brick exterior, tight hallways. The furniture was a mix of second-hand and antiques. It had a homey feel to it—all light and color and delicious smells from the kitchen.

I could feel the love in here. There was nothing cold about this place.

“Come on, there’s people I want you to meet,” Fia said.

“Colin already did introductions.”

“That doesn’t count. Are you my boyfriend, or Colin’s?” Fia’s face paled, her eyes darting to her fuzzy light blue and white socks, decorated with little woven snowflakes.

I reached for her fingers, squeezing them. Her answering smile was soft, but I hoped she could decipher the look in my eyes. Girlfriend. It had a nice ring to it now that this wasn’t just a scheme.

“You wore the sweater,” she said as she led me into the dining room. Food was being arranged on the table. Mismatched chairs were being hauled in, stuffed wherever they could fit. Fia promptly sat me down between two elderly women and took a seat across from me, smiling with a ruddy pink blush. Her maternal and paternal grandmothers inspected me at a closer range than when Colin had introduced me to them.