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My dad smirks. He and Noelle set the table while I toss the ham back in the oven and start the eggs. In less than twenty minutes, everything’s ready and we’re sitting down, enjoying a hearty breakfast.
“You know, Sawyer,” she says. “If you were bad in bed, but willing to cook for me on a regular basis, I’d still keep you around.”
I laugh around a forkful of French toast. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
My dad takes a bite of ham, chews, swallows. I tell myself not to bother looking for signs of approval. But no matter what I tell myself, being back in this house, surrounded by all those memories, has a way of making me feel like a kid again—one who can never seem to do right by his dad, no matter how hard he tries.
“Ham’s really good,” he says. “Gram would be proud.”
I mumble a thanks and do my best to swallow the sense of gratification I feel. I haven’t sought praise from my dad since I was a kid, and I refuse to give him the power to make me appreciate it now.
We eat until we’re stuffed, almost finishing off the French toast bread pudding and a good chunk of the ham. My dad and Noelle offer to put away the leftovers so I can finally take a breather.
Outside, the snow falls steadily. If it keeps this up or gets any heavier, my dad will be out all afternoon plowing. He checks the clock.
“Want to do presents now or after I get back?” he asks.
“Oh, let’s do them now,” Noelle says giddily. “I’ll go first.”
It’s only now that I notice the extra presents that’ve magically appeared beside the ones I slipped under the tree this morning. I toss an additional log on the fire and take my place on the couch.
Noelle grabs two wrapped presents, checks the labels, then hands one to each of us.
“You got me a present?” My dad eyes her curiously as he tears his open. She must’ve done what I did and went shopping in the morning, before I picked her up.
“I wanted to thank you for letting me come spend Christmas with you guys,” she says. “Of course, I assumed Sawyer was going to tell you I was coming.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. I wink at her.
My dad’s cool, collected expression melts like ice under the sun, as he studies the artisanal ceramic coffee mug that Noelle’s given him.
“Sorry it’s so generic,” she says. “I figured a guy who manages a resort probably drinks a ton of coffee.”
“It’s not generic at all,” he says. “It’s great. Thank you.”
She smiles. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, drawing her in for a kiss. She sighs with relief, then turns her gaze on me.
“Open yours,” she says.
I rip apart the green paper, revealing a square box. Inside the box, I find a Christmas ornament. A clear, hollow, plastic ball, painted holographic silver on one side, and a black-and-white picture of my grandparents standing in front of the Maple Ridge Lodge inside.
“Where’d you get this photo?” I ask, when I can finally bring myself to speak.
“I got it off the resort’s website. The friend I’m staying with is a crafter, and she had all these supplies to make ornaments. I figured if it came out stupid looking, I could just have Aliyah smuggle me a bottle of whiskey.”
Noelle knows I’m a chef. She could’ve easily gotten me a kitchen gadget I’d never use, but instead she took the time to make me something personal. From a single conversation, in the midst of all my complaining about my dad, she somehow deduced that I would appreciate a reminder of my grandparents.
She was right. Because Noelle sees me, no matter how well I think I’m hiding. She sees that part of me loves this place.
My throat tightens. I feel like I’m in one of those dreams where I’m standing naked in my fifth-grade classroom.
The night I met Noelle, she accused me of being a fuckboy, and I didn’t deny it. Because that’s what I am. If Iwasthe dating type, she’d be the one, for sure. But I know myself too well. I’d make her a promise and inevitably break it. And she’s the last person I’d ever want to hurt.
It’s infuriating to admit, but my dad was right.
She is invested. By bringing her here, I’ve given her a taste of a life she can actually see herself in, and it’s got her questioning everything, including what she should already know.
What’s insane is that I can see that life, too, clear as day. Noelle working happily at the front desk with Frida, reading by the fire until my dad gets home. The two of them having dinners together, watching the snow fall, then going upstairs to fuck and then sleep in each other’s arms.
