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“Hurry,” she gasps.
We let go of each other and race to the kitchen. Plumes of smoke burn my eyes as I remove charred food from the oven.
“It’s all my fault,” Ivy moans. “I’ve ruined Christmas.”
Our attempt to help Mom by prepping food the night before backfired. Big time. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. Open the windows.”
Ivy rolls her eyes. “Maybe they won’t notice.”
There is smoke billowing out of the oven. There's no way to salvage the food, and it's so awful it's funny. We're laughing so hard we're practically rolling around on the floor, clutching our bellies.
As soon as Mom enters the kitchen, she sees the gray haze and screams like a bat out of hell. "What's happening?”
My cell phone trills with birdsong, the ringtone reserved for Luca. “Sorry, Mom!” I grab my phone and rush outside just as the smoke alarm activates.
“Hello?” I can’t hear over the high-pitched screeching. Luca hangs up, and it goes to voice mail when I call back.
I leave a message telling him everything’s fine and return to the kitchen. Oh geez. It’s a mess. I put on Christmas music and begin cleaning up, trying to lighten the fact we messed up because we were too busy talking.
Mom stares at the charred cinders in the sink and frowns.
“Yummy,” Ivy pats her tummy and giggles.
Dad pokes his head in, but there’s a knock at the door.
“The Fire department already?” Dad frowns. “That must be a world record. Don’t want them breaking the door down on Christmas Eve,” he grumbles.
A few minutes later, the kitchen door swings open, and Luca waltzes in. I’ve never been so relieved to see him in my life. I drop the dishcloth and throw myself into his embrace.
Luca picks me up and spins me around, leaving me giddy with delight. He plants a kiss on my lips when my feet touch the ground.
Mom gasps.
Ivy giggles.
Dad strides in behind Luca and surveys the chaotic scene. “Merry Christmas,” he mutters, throwing his hands in the air before walking out.
Luca wears a doleful expression. This doesn’t feel like the right time to crack jokes about burning Christmas lunch. I shove down the questions I want to ask and focus on him.
“I’m happy to see you, but is something wrong?” I ask. He was supposed to wait for me at the apartment, but he must have been stressed out.
“We need to talk,” he says. “I’ve just come from my parent’s place,” he says. Luca always refers to the house in Malibu as home. But not this time. The thunderous expression on his face worries me.
“What is it, Luca? You’re scaring me.” Taking my hand, he laces our fingers together, and pulls me down the hallway into a quiet room.
Once we’re safely tucked away, he breathes a sigh and presses his forehead to mine. “This is real, Auds. You and me. Just like this,” Luca says.
I’m so in love with this man, and knowing he feels the same way, I’d do anything for him.
“Stay right here in this moment with me,” he whispers. “I don’t ever want to let you go.”
“Same, but you don’t need to. We made a plan, and I’m sticking to it, but I think the cat’s out of the bag now my parents saw us together.”
We sit on the couch and Luca shares what he learned from his parents. A lock of dark hair falls in his eyes, obscuring his vision. I’m tempted to sweep it off his forehead, but don’t want to interrupt. He drags his hand through his hair, like he’s reading my mind.
“All this time, I was working under the mistaken belief that courage meant staying away from you, but I was wrong.” With his eyes downcast, he shakes his head. “So wrong.”
His tone remains even-tempered, but beneath that is a barely restrained rage. By the time he finishes, I share his disbelief. I’m unable to wrap my head around it myself.
