In A Holidaze - Christina Lauren Page 0,81
cupping his hands around a mug of coffee. “I was looking for you earlier.”
“That would make one of you,” I say, laughing as I sit down. “Most people in this house seem to turn the other way when I walk in.”
“Aw, it isn’t that bad, is it?”
I shake my head. “I’m just kidding. Everyone has been amazingly patient with my mental calamity, as expected.”
“Except me.”
I laugh at this, unexpectedly loud. “Except you.”
“Look,” he says. “I was a jerk yesterday. I’m sorry. You know me—sometimes I just need a day to cool my head.”
I don’t think I realized how upset I’ve been about the fissure in our relationship until he says that, and I feel the tears rising like a wave in my throat. Of course I know that about him. I’ve always known that he is slow to anger and even slower to defuse. So why didn’t I ever give him the benefit of the doubt the first time around? In hindsight, he just needed to be left alone the morning after we kissed, to be allowed to dig out from his own mortifi-cation. All this time I’ve been upset with him for simply being exactly the person I always knew he was.
But before I can swallow them down, the tears are pouring over. He immediately jumps up and rushes around the table, kneeling to hug me. I’m sure he’s bewildered by my reaction, but he has no way of knowing how badly I needed to hear this apology—for something this version of Theo didn’t even do. It’s like being angry at someone after they behaved badly in a dream; it isn’t Theo’s fault that I needed days of emotional space from him.
His question is a low rumble against my shoulder. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Even the idea of going through it all again feels, mentally, like running into a brick wall. I also know that it won’t help matters: If Theo was struggling with the idea of me with Andrew, the last thing he needs to hear is what happened in some alternate version of reality. Telling him won’t make me feel better, won’t help Theo feel better, and it won’t help anything between me and Andrew.
“Do you mind if we skip the whole download?” I say. “I’m realizing that, in this particular situation, I should probably just move forward.”
He pulls back and lifts his chin, studying me sweetly. “Okay. I’ll let it go. But if you change your mind, you know I’m always here to give you bad advice.”
I laugh. “Thanks.”
After a long beat of contemplative silence, he asks, “So you were really into my brother all this time?”
I nod. “Since you and I were thirteen.”
He whistles, low and sympathetic. “That’s a long time, Mae. Holy shit.”
“Is it weird to admit to you that I don’t know what it would feel like to not be infatuated with Andrew?”
“It’s not weird at all,” he says. “I mean, it’s cool you’re talking about it with me, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“Did I mess things up with you two?”
This makes me laugh. “Fear not. I did that entirely on my own.”
“Do you think you can fix it?”
I chew my lip. “I’m going to give it a try.”
Theo rises from his knees to sit in the chair beside mine. “I don’t really know what happened with you two, but Andrew is super private. So the fact that he was immediately so up front about what was going on was pretty crazy.” He runs his thumbnail along a scratch in the table. “I think that’s what I was probably reacting to yesterday. The familiarity. It made me think you guys had been a thing for a long time.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Nope.”
“He was acting settled, you know? So, take that for what it’s worth, but I think if you really have feelings for him, it’s worth fighting a little longer before you give up.”
I look at the time on my phone and realize that if I’m going to grand-gesture this thing, I’d better get started.
“It would be easier to cut off my own arm than get over your brother, so I’m not giving up.” I stand, and then bend to kiss his cheek. “I’ve got some plans up my sleeve. Wish me luck.”
chapter twenty-six
In the first version of this holiday, Andrew wasn’t out in the Boathouse alone at all on Christmas Day. Around this time—almost five in the evening—he was in the kitchen with Zachary and Kennedy, hanging metallic garlands