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Yeah. I’m totally screwed.
***
After a shower and a stress-relieving sheet mask (and a stern talking-to-myself in the mirror about not letting my feelings get away from me), I get dressed and prepare myself to go down to breakfast. Because my parents took the main cabin, they also have the biggest and most functional kitchen among what they rented, so I just know the kitchen and dining areas are going to be swamped. It’ll be even more packed if my nonna’s the one cooking, and knowing her, she insisted.
I swallow and steel myself before stepping out into the hallway. Loud talking is drifting up from the dining area. It’s okay, I can do this. I’m not alone this time—I’ve got Matt. I just have to find him first and hope he hasn’t gotten cornered by an aunt or something.
As I walk down the stairs, bits of the conversation starts to become clearer. Something about a favor and making the kids happy. Oh no, I hope they haven’t talked Matt into taking them sledding or something. One of the wilder kids always ends up running into a tree and gets a bloody nose. I don’t think there’s even enough snow on the ground to go, but city kids like them don’t get to sled in mountains like this that often.
Once I walk into the dining room, I see that my fake boyfriend is sitting in between my mother and one of her sisters, as a few of my older cousins and aunts all titter and laugh. Matt’s spine is stiff and straight, but he’s got a smile on his face that reaches his eyes, so whatever’s happening can’t be that bad, I suppose.
“Lucia! Happy Christmas Eve,cara,” my mom titters as she stands to come and hug me. “Did you sleep well? Was your room warm enough?”
My heart plummets to my toes and I fight the urge to glance at Matt. “Yes,mama, it was perfect,” I tell her, concerned that she’ll see through my lie. Then again, she hasn’t seemed to see through the ruse I’ve got going with Matt. It’s probably okay. “Nice and cozy.”
One of my aunts chimes in with, “The water pressure is perfect, I’m so surprised. Up here in the mountains like this and it’s that good?”
And suddenly, the table has moved on to talk about water pressure and quality and who knows what else. My mom gets up to stand and walks me to the kitchen to help me find coffee. At the counter, my grandmother is placing a tray of unbaked cinnamon rolls into the oven. She comes over to give me a wet kiss as I stir cream into my mug.
“Ah, light of my life, how are you this morning?” she says. Before I can answer, however, she’s talking more. “Your Matthew is such a charmer! He came right in this morning and helped me make the dough for breakfast!”
My eyes widen. “H-he did?”
“Yes! You didn’t tell us he could cook!”
I didn’t know he could, but I’m definitely not going to tell them that.
“Actually,” Mom starts, “I was hoping he could help me with something.”
I look at her over the rim of my mug as I take a sip of coffee, suddenly feeling nervous. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
As if summoned, Matt appears in the doorway with a mug in his hand, looking to refill it.
“Perfect timing!” Mom claps. “Matthew, do you think you could do me ahugefavor?”
“Of course, Mrs. Giovanni,” he says with a charming smile, taking the pot from the coffee maker and pouring himself a fresh cup.
“Call me Mom, sweetie,” she says, batting her lashes. Goodness, she must really want him to do whatever it is she’s about to ask. He comes to stand by me, pulling me into his side to plant a kiss on the top of my head.
“Morning, baby,” he mutters to me. I can feel heat creeping up my neck just at his proximity, but calling me baby? I’m going to die, right here, right in front of my family. He’s too good at making this believable and that’s why I’m falling so hard for him. I smile up at him, hoping it reaches my eyes as I try not to feel self-conscious about my emotions.
Just as he starts to take a sip of his coffee, my mom finally tells us what she wants him to do. “I was hoping you might do us the honor of being Santa this year after our Christmas meal.”
Matt sputters into his mug in surprise as my mouth drops open, aghast.
The role of Santa in our family Christmases is coveted, and for the past few years it’s gone to my cousin Isabella’s husband. I don’t have an opinion on her husband at all or how he does Santa, but Isabella is another matter. She’s only a few years older, and we were close when we were little. But then she hit puberty, and she suddenly got really mean. As we’ve both gotten older, she’s taken to picking apart my appearance from my clothes to my hair.
After she met her now-husband, she started bragging about being in a relationship and using my single status against me. She’s one of the worst among all of my relatives when it comes to giving me a hard time. Giving Matt the Santa costume could put a target on me, and I don’t know if I can handle another holiday of her making my life miserable.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Mom continues. “It’s always Tony, Isabella’s husband. But I thought it might be nice to have someone else do it, and who better to do it than your new man!”
I can feel Matt looking at me, but I can’t get myself to speak. I’m too shocked to say anything, too afraid to say no but also too afraid to say yes. Disappoint my mom, or face Isabella’s wrath?
Matt takes my hand and squeezes it before saying, “I’d be delighted to do it. I just don’t want to step on any toes.”
“Isabella and Tony will understand,” my mom says with a wave of her hand. “It’s okay if she doesn’t get her way for once.”
“I never really did like that Antonio boy,” Nonna mutters under her breath before saying some choice words in Italian. I can’t believe my eyes can get wider, but they do. My grandma, who is sweet to everyone, if not a touch nagging,doesn’tlike someone in the family?
