AllFreeNovel
Share Us
So, no kissing.
Yet.
I extended my arm to Trisha, infusing the gesture with a mix of formality and warmth. “My apologies for Xander,” I said with a half-smirk. “He’s still battling jetlag. Living in England has him on a completely different clock.” As I looked at her, I couldn’t help but add, “By the way, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”
Trisha linked her arm with mine, her cheeks tinged with a soft blush as her eyes met mine. “Well, you both look dashing despite the time differences. And England, huh? What’s the story there?”
“He’s a soccer player,” I replied, my voice carrying a hint of pride as we reached the foot of the stairs.
Uncle Patrick, overhearing our conversation, couldn’t resist adding his two cents with a chuckle. “It’s called football, lad.” He shook his head, his light blue eyes twinkling. “Have I taught you nothing?” He took Trisha’s free hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “You look lovely, lass.”
“Thank you,” Trisha said, her cheeks turning pink. “And thank you for letting me join your family’s Christmas.”
Patrick waved off her thanks with a warm grin. “Oh, we’re always happy to have more around the table. The more the merrier, as I like to say.”
As we made our way to the dining room, my sister Rose caught my eye. Her usual ranch attire was replaced with an elegant black dress accentuating her natural beauty. She stood out in stark contrast to her usual rugged, outdoorsy look.
“Hey, Rose,” I said, unable to hide my surprise. “You clean up pretty good, huh?”
Rose rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t act so shocked, big brother. I do own something other than jeans and flannel shirts, you know.”
Trisha giggled beside me, and Rose shot her a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t let him fool you, Trisha. He’s just scared I’ll outshine him tonight.”
Rose’s grimace as she adjusted her dress was fleeting, replaced quickly by a warm smile directed at Trisha. “Hey, thanks for carting my brother back here. We kinda like having him around for Christmas.”
“Yeah, who else is gonna inhale Mom’s quiche?” A blinding smile flashed against my cousin Rome’s sun-kissed skin. “Yo, Trisha, right? We haven’t formally met.” He inched closer, dropping his voice. “Wanna sneak off and make some mistletoe magic? A little Christmas cheer, if you know what I mean?”
“Rome,” I warned.
He shrugged, his mischievous gaze twinkling. “What? I heard she’s not your official girlfriend or anything.”
Trisha shot back with a smirk, unfazed by my cousin’s towering height. “Nice try, Romeo, but I’ll pass. Kudos for the effort, though.”
I nudged her gently towards the dining room. “Come on, let’s attack the buffet before Rome here eats everything.”
Trisha’s eyes widened as we entered the dining room, taking in the vast spread. “Holy smokes, that’s what you call a buffet? It’s like Thanksgiving on steroids!”
I laughed. “Yep, and everyone leaves with enough leftovers to last till New Year’s. Aunt Theresa’s pretty generous with the to-go boxes.”
Trisha eyed the food like it was the eighth wonder of the world. “Forget playing it cool. I’m diving in. This is some serious food temptation.”
As we filled our plates, Theresa and Patrick settled into their usual spots, the heart and soul of the family. Paris, Rome, Xander, and Rose followed suit, with London and her fiancé, Spencer, joining last, their baby son Alexander snoozing peacefully in his arms.
Aunt Theresa’s tender gaze on her grandson sent a wave of nostalgia through me, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been. My fingers brushed over the cufflinks, the engravings a tangible connection to my parents, and I felt a twinge of sadness at the thought that they would never meet their grandchildren.
“Hey,” Trisha nudged me, “you okay?”
I shook off the melancholy, squeezing her hand with a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a moment of nostalgia.”
She searched my face, her eyes a mirror of empathy, but before she could delve deeper, Patrick’s booming voice called everyone to attention. His annual Christmas Eve speech was always a highlight, filled with gratitude and a bit of humor. This year, he kept it short and sweet, much to everyone’s amusement. “For the kids,” he claimed, though we all knew his stomach was the real driving force.
Trisha and I joined the line to load up our plates, the spread an impressive array of flavors and aromas. “You’ve got to try these crab puffs,” I recommended, adding a few to her plate. “And don’t miss the Scottish specialties. Aunt Theresa outdoes herself every year.”
With plates full,we found a cozy spot in the living room, surrounded by the hum of family conversations. “I’ll be right back with the eggnog,” I told her, slipping away to the kitchen.
There, I poured two cups of Aunt Theresa’s famous eggnog—the version with a generous splash of rum. The memory of my younger cousins trying to sneak sips of the adults’ eggnog brought a grin to my face.
As I rejoined Trisha in the living room, handing her the spiced eggnog, I caught the tail end of her conversation with London. They were discussing the delicate balance of career and family. Trisha listened intently, her eyes reflecting genuine interest.
