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“But if I’d told her right away, she never would have given me a chance,” Ambrose explained. Della’s words made panic rise in his chest. “She hates rich people.”
“Then that would have been her choice, and maybe her loss.” She shrugged. “If you really love her, though, lying is a craptastic way to show it.”
Even mousy little Misty nodded her head in agreement.
Damn. That was the same thing Kate had said. And his mom, when he’d told them not to mention it when they were there for dinner. Fuck.
Christmas was in two days—then he’d tell her. Afterward, so that if she hated him forever, at least he didn’t ruin the holiday.
It had seemed like such a harmless lie of omission in the beginning. Like any woman would care that much that a guy had money? But he’d been so wrong, and now the best thing that had ever happened to him was hanging in the balance.
* * *
“You okay?” Everly looked at him. He loosened his grip on her hand, realizing he’d probably cut off her circulation.
The strains of Gene Autry’s Christmas album filled his parents’ living room. Usually the songs brought him back to Christmases as a kid, but the tension from the past few days was making him edgy.
Knowing they were going to visit Everly’s mom tomorrow was freaking him out. His relationship with Everly was based on a lie, so his relationship with her family was going to be a sham. The thought had kept him awake all night, staring at the ceiling. Only Everly using him as a pillow had stopped him from pacing the house.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He smiled at her, wondering if she’d be smiling back at him a
few days from now, when he told her. Waiting until after Christmas had been a stupid idea. He’d thought it would keep the holidays from being ruined. It was too late now. “I’m just thinking I should check on the turkey.” Plausible excuse, since the turkey smelled amazing.
She frowned. “That’s a pretty serious frown for turkey.”
Awkwardly, he patted her. He rose and went to the kitchen, leaving Everly alone with the festive music and his parents’ obnoxiously decorated tree. As long as she didn’t look at the thing too closely, she might not notice that the ornaments were all hand-painted by him and Augustine when they were little. Classy, his family was not. Although the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
In the kitchen, his parents were whispering to each other.
“What’s up?”
His mother turned to him, her lips pursed. “Well, since you’re asking,” she whispered, “I’m not at all comfortable with you involving us in this big mess of lies. Everly is a lovely girl. Even if she forgives you later, what is she going to think of me for agreeing to keep my mouth shut?”
“It’s not like he’s hiding a mistress or something, Jody,” his father mumbled back, keeping an eye on the door. “Is hiding something good really that big of a deal?”
She arched a brow. “Well, hiding the new mixer you got me for Christmas was one thing. This is a little different.”
“I know. This is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And that’s saying something. I just need a chance to put this right. A few more days?” Ambrose gave her the pathetic puppy eyes, and she finally sighed and grimaced.
“Fiiiine. Just don’t blame us if we slip up. We’ll do our best.”
His father shook his head, but busied himself with taking the turkey out of the oven. If Mom said okay, Dad never contradicted her.
His father started his signature whistling along with the music coming from the living room, and Ambrose wished he could freeze this moment in time. It would have been like their own family holiday card, other than the fact that he had The Lie hanging over his head, and Augustine was missing. His girlfriend, Charlotte, had insisted on going over to her parents’ house for the evening. Ambrose didn’t mind because it meant fewer people had to cover for him, and his parents could get to know Everly better. He knew they’d love her. Who wouldn’t?
The commotion in the kitchen caught Everly’s attention, and she wandered in. Without any hesitation, his mother handed her a potato masher.
“Do you mind?”
Everly grinned. “Not at all. Ambrose never lets me help.”
“He can be a bit controlling.” His mother realized what she’d said and started to laugh, and his father joined in.
Ambrose rolled his eyes and shook his head. Leave it to his parents to get creepy.
“But I guess I don’t need to tell you that.”
Oh jeez. He was going to disown them.
