Page 109 of The Holiday Makeover

I couldn’t admit there was a chance I might be going in the wrong direction.

And when you want something badly enough, it’s hard to let go of it.

I think my dad wanted my success even more than I did. But . . . maybe there was a part of him that knew he’d gotten it wrong. Maybe he knew he was making a mistake, but he didn’t know how to get out of it.

Turning your whole life around was no simple thing.

Or maybe I had no idea what I was talking about.

Perhaps I didn’t know my father at all.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” I squeezed her hand. “Can I do something?”

“No. This is something your father and I need to work out.” She let out a tired breath. “I think we’ve forgotten how to do that. Somewhere along the way, we decided we didn’t have any problems, so we ignored anything that came along.”

She lifted her head off my shoulder. Her mouth pulled into a sad smile.

“I don’t recommend it. Don’t do that with Rory. Please.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

Not that Rory would let me.

“Just stay strong,” Mom urged. “And don’t let anyone tell you the best path for you. Not even your parents.” Her lips quirked. “Though, you might want to make an exception when it comes to Rory.”

I smiled. I’d let Rory tell me where to go. Possibly how to get there. Maybe even what to wear while doing it.

“That’s good advice.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Mom sounded brighter. “So tell me, what are your plans for Christmas Day?”

I wanted to say I hoped it would be a whole lot of nothing. Just me and Rory curled up together, doing very little besides enjoying each other.

Instead, I told the truth.

“I’m not sure.”

I felt like I couldn’t make any plans until I knew Rory was going to be part of them.

“Well, I’d love it if we could at least have dinner together,” Mom said. “Or lunch. Or breakfast.” She laughed. “I’d even take a snack with you. It’s been a long time since we had Christmas together.”

She paused.

“Some of my best memories of us as a family were on Christmas Day,” she said. “I still remember the sound of you running down the stairs to see what Santa brought. You and your dad putting your toys together and playing with them for hours in front of the tree.”

Her voice cracked.

“Those moments meant the world to me. You mean the world to me.”

I’m not ashamed to admit I had tears running down my cheeks. Somewhere along the way, I had forgotten about those moments. About the little boy who’d idolized his parents. About how they had made Christmas magical. My hurt had drowned out all those memories.

“I would do anything to get them back,” Mom cried. “Even more than that, I want to make more of them. Together. All of us.”

Honestly?

I did too.

Chapter Thirty-Six