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And I wanted it for her.
Even if the whole thing sounded like a nightmare.
It was only one day.
If it all went off without any major upset, it could even prove to be the turning point for us I’d been waiting for.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Isabella
I’d sort of resigned myself to my first Christmas without my family in my entire life. Which was such a depressing thought that I went ahead and told myself that I wasn’t going to celebrate at all.
No decor or gifts. No endless cookie baking. No singing carols. And certainly no curling up on the couch with hot chocolate and watching cheesy, made-for-TV romantic Christmas movies.
I was just going to have a full-on boycott.
Which, admittedly, was almost as depressing as missing the holiday with my family.
And that was how I found myself in the shower, crying my heart out for something that was wholly out of my control.
I expected to be left alone because, as a whole, Primo had been giving me the space I clearly wanted. Probably because if he bothered me, I was quick to pick a fight. The only time he forced himself into my space was when I fell asleep on the couch and he came down and carried me to bed. Which, apparently, he viewed as a safety issue. And, admittedly, I kind of got that.
If someone broke in, I much preferred they shot Primo instead of me.
I never expected him to reach for me in one of my lowest moments. And instead of teasing me or telling me I was being dramatic, he just held me, just let me have my feelings. Then he offered me a solution to them.
Was I thrilled at the idea of bringing him home to meet my family? God, no. But if it was the only option, I wasn’t going to turn him down either.
Did I think it was going to be an absolute nightmare? Yeah, probably. But it was out of the apartment. And it was with my family. I would take a nightmare with my family over bliss in my gilded cage any day.
So with very little notice, I tripped into overdrive. I ran Dawson, Dulles, Vissi, and even Terzo ragged running my errands, grabbing gifts and supplies, and even some decor for the loft because I was suddenly feeling the spirit.
I spent endless hours putting up the giant tree, getting the ornaments just right, wrapping presents for my family, baking, and listening to my Christmas carols.
I didn’t watch my cheesy movies, though.
I guess my heart just couldn’t take it, watching all those couples get their romantic happily-ever-afters, knowing for sure now that I was never going to get the chance myself.
But still, by the time Christmas Eve rolled around and it was nearly time to head to my mom’s house, I was feeling pretty filled with the holiday spirit.
“Can you keep an eye on my baked ziti?” I asked, and it took Primo a moment to realize I’d been addressing him.
Yeah, that was how infrequently I spoke directly to him.
At his drawn-together brows, I said, “I need to get changed.” I waved down at my leggings and tee that I’d been cooking and baking in. “But I don’t want to burn the baked ziti. Can you keep an eye on it for me?”
I might have found it difficult to let myself admit that Primo had some positive traits. His cooking skills were one of them. I never trusted anyone with my food, but I knew he would take it out at exactly the right time.
Dawson and Dulles had been taking the packages out to the car.
They weren’t coming along.
Apparently, the brothers all had a tradition of getting Chinese food on Christmas Eve, and got together on Christmas Day for a meal. So my family traditions weren’t screwing with theirs.
I shouldn’t have cared.
But I knew what it was like to have your traditions stripped away. I didn’t want to be a part of doing that to anyone else.
Christmas Eve dinner at my mom’s house was a big to-do. I’d needed to order a new dress for it because my mom expected us to dress for the occasion. Luckily, I didn’t need to advise Primo on it since the man lived in suits.
It was pretty messed up that a man’s everyday attire could also be considered his fancy clothes when women had to buy new clothes and slip into uncomfortable outfits to be deemed appropriately dressed.
That said, I was actually kind of excited to get dressed up.
First, just because getting out of the apartment was reason alone to put some extra care into my appearance. And, of course, I wanted to look nice just because it was expected. But more so than any of that, a part of me wanted to project to my family that everything was okay, that I was okay. I didn’t want them to worry about me.
