CHAPTER TEN

Abby

Christmas music fills the car during the drive to John’s grandparents’ house, but I’m not in the mood to sing along. I’m still reeling from finally having words with Rachel. It was time. Boy, was it time, but confrontation is never easy for me, especially when I’ve spent my entire life trying to make my family love me. I don’t know if it was having John witness their treatment or him wanting my forgiveness, but I couldn’t continue trying with my family when they have never apologized other than what Dad said about Rachel today.

It’s time to face the truth—nothing I do will ever be enough. I can never be Rachel. Not that I want to be her. I just want the same love and acceptance she receives from my parents.

Guess that’s too much to ask or even hope for.

Acceptance might take time, but I’m over it—over them .

Ignoring the pang in my heart, I take in John’s handsome profile. My gaze drops to his lips, his full, kissable lips.

I hope his grandparents have mistletoe hanging at their house. I’d love another kiss from him.

Uh-oh . He might be my fake boyfriend, but he’s still my boss.

Can’t forget that.

Or that we’ll be at his grandparents’ house soon, which reminds me… “Anything I need to know about your family?”

“I hope you’re hungry.” John adjusts his hands on the steering wheel. He’s not wearing the gloves my parents gave him, and neither am I. “My grandmother will try to force-feed you until you burst.”

“I can always eat, so that won’t be a problem.”

“Good, because once you’ve been fed, my grandfather will challenge you to a game of chess.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve played.”

“Just so you know, he’s as ruthless as your grandfather was.”

“Appreciate the warning.” My bunched muscles relax. I hope dealing with strangers is easier than my own family. “I might need to hold your hand for moral support.”

Did I really say that aloud? Heat creeps up my neck and onto my face. I don’t get it. Something about John makes me constantly blush. I’m never like this at work, but maybe that’s because after our interactions there is smoke coming out of my ears.

John’s eyes meet mine. “That can be arranged.”

His flirty tone makes my face burn hotter. I want to pretend he’s not affecting me, but it’s clear on my cheeks. Probably my neck, too. Staying quiet would be for the best, but I need to know something important. “One more thing.”

“What?”

I take a deep breath, not sure what I want his answer to be. That makes me feel pathetic. “Are we still pretending to date?”

“Yes,” he says as if it’s no big deal, when it’s a humongous deal to me. “It’ll be easier, so we don’t make any mistakes when we go back to your parents’ house.”

I nod, not knowing how to feel and wishing he would’ve said, “Yes, but let’s make it real, not pretend.” That’s a stupid way to think, given the circumstances. Yes, we’ve kissed more than once, but I can’t let myself catch feelings for my boss.

B-O-S-S.

Even if some might’ve already developed. Yes, I’m in trouble or could be if I don’t nip my attraction to him in the bud. Maybe if I remember all the times he hurt my feelings at work, I’ll go back to thinking of him as a grouchy grump instead of the best boyfriend in the world.

“We’re here,” he says.

His voice startles me. I watch him drive into a circular driveway and park in front of a mansion.

A mansion. My stomach drops to my feet. I would’ve thought the place was a boutique hotel or something, except there’s no sign. Nothing but cars—nice ones.

My stomach churns. “This is your grandparents’ house?”

He turns the car off. “Yes. I grew up here.”

My parents’ house would fit in the garage. I had no idea his grandparents were wealthy.

What have I gotten myself into?

I take a closer look at the house. Tasteful Christmas decorations adorn the front yard, and white lights are strung along the eaves and frame all the windows. A single electric candle sits in each windowsill, casting a welcoming glow from inside. It looks picture-perfect, like out of a movie or painting or magazine, and I swallow.

“Ready?” John asks.

No, but it’s too late to say that now. Telling him he should’ve warned me about coming from money sounds tacky, something Rachel would say. I lift my chin with a confidence I don’t have. We’re already faking a relationship, but now I’ll have to fake belonging where I don’t. I should’ve just stayed at my parents’ house, where at least I know my way around. “Of course.”

I’ve perfected my grace-under-pressure voice and use it if the stock market tanks and clients call me in a panic about their retirement accounts. I get the feeling that voice will come in handy today.

As we approach the front door, faint laughter and music sound from inside. Whoever is here seems to be having a good time. I’ll take that as a good sign and hope I can disappear into the background and not be noticed much. That thought settles my nerves a little.

The door swings open before John rings the bell. An older white-haired woman wearing an apron smiles big. Her blue eyes twinkle, and I wonder if this is what Mrs. Claus might look like. Though I doubt Santa’s wife wears designer clothes. Even with the apron covering the front, I can tell from the quality that her blouse and her skirt aren’t from a local box store.

“You made it, Johnny.” Affection fills her voice, and she hugs him. “You feel thinner. Are you eating enough?”

John laughs. “Yes, Grandma. I’ve been eating too much with all the holiday treats people brought into work.”

“As long as you aren’t working through mealtimes.” His grandmother’s gaze lands on me, and her face lights up. “Now who is this lovely young lady?”

“Grandma, this is Abby.” John touches the small of my back. Even though I’m wearing a coat, I feel the warmth of his hand at the spot of contact and draw comfort from it. “Abby, this is my grandmother, Maggie.”

Before I can I extend my arm, Maggie hugs me. She smells like cinnamon and vanilla, or maybe that’s the apron. “Welcome to the family.”

Her greeting surprises me, but I don’t have much time to think, because I’m entering the house with Maggie leading the way and John bringing up the rear.

Inside, Christmas carols play, and the sharp scent of fresh pine hangs in the air. A tall Christmas tree sits in the foyer, and an even taller tree dominates the large living room. I’m certain the trees are real. A few pine needles on the hardwood floor provide additional proof.

“Wow.” It’s all I can do to keep my mouth from dropping open. The interior is lovely but not the kind of décor you’re afraid to touch. It’s warm and welcoming. “Your home and Christmas decorations are gorgeous.”

“Thanks. I had lots of help with adding all the holiday touches.”

No one seems to notice us entering, which is a relief, and there are a lot of people. More than twenty if I’ve counted right.

Maggie claps her hands. “Johnny’s here, and he’s brought a girl with him.”

She sounds almost giddy, more like one of the younger guests who are jumping to their feet.

So much for not being noticed.

People—adults, teens, and children—swarm around us. I’m shaking hands, being hugged, and being told names, one after another without so much as a break. Maybe I should ask if people would wear name tags, because I can’t remember anyone’s name except for Maggie and John.

An older man with a beard shakes my hand. He’s tall and fit in a pair of black pants and a Christmas sweater. “I’m George. Johnny’s grandfather. We’re happy to have you spend Christmas with us. I hope you don’t mind the noise, or you brought earplugs.”

I laugh, feeling more at ease. He looks vaguely familiar to me, but John is the only Barrington I know, and I’ve rarely gotten out this way, even when I was growing up. “I don’t mind. I hope I’m not intruding on your family celebration.”

George waves his hand. “The more, the merrier. Do you play chess?”

Maggie swoops in before I can answer. As she leads me away, she glances over her shoulder. “There’s plenty of time for games later. I need to make sure Abby’s not hungry.”

“Of course,” George says. “I’m sure you’ve already given John something to eat.”

“No, but he’s in the kitchen and misses Abby already.”

That tells me where I’m headed, but… “I’m sure John’s happy to be home and see all his family.”

“Yes.” Maggie winks. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t miss being with you, too.”

The kitchen is bigger than my apartment and a chef’s dream with multiple ovens and enough counter space for several people to nap on at the same time. Good thing since it’s full of people, each working on a different task. A man who I think is one of John’s cousins, but I blank on his name, stirs something in a pot. One of his other cousins—Libby or Lizzy—chops vegetables.

“Do you need help with anything?” I ask.

“Not yet.” Maggie motions to a cozy window seat. “Relax for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

As I sit, I search for John, but he doesn’t seem to be in the kitchen any longer. There are multiple entrances, so maybe he went out a different way when I came in with Maggie. Yet I’m surprisingly not uncomfortable being surrounded by strangers.

Maggie returns and hands me a steaming mug with a candy cane sticking out and topped with a tower of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. “These hot cocoas are a tradition around here on Christmas.”

The chocolatey-peppermint aroma makes my mouth water. “It looks and smells delicious.”

“Drink up. It’ll chase away the chill from standing at the front door,” she says with a grandmotherly smile.

I take a sip, and I nearly sigh with pleasure. “This is the best hot cocoa I’ve ever tasted.”

“Thank you, dear.” Maggie touches my arm. “It’s one of Johnny’s favorites. Now, tell me. Are you hungry?”

“The hot chocolate is fine. For now,” I say.

“Just let me know if your stomach gets a grumbling. We have more food than we can eat.”

The cousin who was chopping veggies now holds icing tubes. “I’m Lizzy, in case you forgot. Do you want to help me decorate the gingerbread cookies after you finish your hot chocolate?”

“I’d love to, but I don’t want to mess up if this is a family tradition.”

“Nonsense.” George is in the kitchen checking on the turkey, which my dad never helps cook. “You’re family now. Show us how it’s done.”

I finish my drink, wanting another one, but then I’d have to wait to decorate cookies. I join Lizzy at the counter where she’s set out the icing and small bowls full of candy pieces. Various shapes of gingerbread are on cooling racks.

An older gentleman comes up to me. “I’m John’s great-uncle Ross. Not to be confused with his great-uncle Rusty, because we’re identical twins. Fair warning. If your gingerbread men come out good, you’ll be on decorating duty for life.”

“Looks like I’ll have to make a few mistakes so I have options in the future,” I joke, feeling more at ease by the minute.

He laughs. “You fit right in.”

I’m speechless.

The reason?

I’ve wanted someone to say that to me…forever. I never expected the words to come from a person I’d just met, when I’ve done nothing to earn the acceptance.

Warmth flows through me, and the feeling has nothing to do with the cocoa I just finished. Maybe feeling giddy comes with being at this house, or it’s a Christmas miracle. Whatever the reason, a lightness I never expected flows through me. The knot I’ve had in my stomach for days is all but gone.

John catches my eye from across the room, where he’s helping his aunt Theo with what looks to be a heavy baking sheet, and smiles at me. My heart does a backflip.

“So, Abby.” Maggie settles next to me at the counter with a cup of tea. “Tell me how you and Johnny met.”

I squirt too much red icing on the reindeer’s nose I’m decorating. This cookie will not be earning me a permanent spot on the cookie decorating squad, but what should I tell his grandmother about us? Saying I’m just faking it with her Johnny but I hope it turns real by the time he drives me home won’t cut it. “Oh, um, well…”

“We work together,” John finishes for me before I embarrass myself more with my lack of eloquence. He walks toward us with quick steps. “Abby is the top financial consultant at the office. She goes above and beyond with the clients. We’d be lost without her.”

The affection in his voice makes me blush yet again. Is he playing the role of my fake boyfriend, or does he really mean that? I hope I can get the nerve up to ask him when we’re alone. Though that doesn’t seem likely soon. Everyone is pitching in to help with the food.

Maggie beams. “That’s wonderful. I had a feeling the new position would be good for him. How long have you two been dating?”

As my brain ceases to function, and I panic, John wraps an arm around my shoulders like he’s done it a million times before. “It’s new. We’ve known each other since July, but we only recently realized there’s something more here.”

My heart races. Yes, that’s our cover story. My brain is now functioning, but his words feel so achingly close to the truth it almost hurts.

“That’s so lovely, and I’m so happy you brought Abby home with you,” Maggie says. “Now, she needs to work on the gingerbread men, and I need help with the Christmas pudding.”

Throughout our cooking assignments, John is a constant presence at my side. His hand finds mine, and his thumb traces circles on my palm. He pulls me close during a quick family photo in front of the kitchen island, and his arm is around my waist. Each touch sends sparks through my body, and I’m finding it harder to remember that this is all supposed to be pretend.

A part of me wants it to be real. That seems to be my refrain for today.

I wish I’d known that my boss becoming my boyfriend was what I wanted for Christmas so I could have sent Santa a letter. Now, it’s too late. I nearly laugh.

“What’s so funny?” John asks.

“I’m thinking about how unexpected this Christmas has turned out to be.”

“Never thought you’d spend Christmas with your boss?”

I can’t help but laugh now. “Never crossed my mind.”

He kisses my forehead. “Never say never.”

“Words to live by.” That earns me another kiss.

As a Pinterest-worthy charcuterie board is set out in the living room, Ross announces it’s time for the annual holiday charades tournament.

“Okay, team names,” Ross shouts over the din. “Remember, puns are mandatory!”

I lean into John. “Is your family always so…enthusiastic?”

He squeezes my hand. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

The teams quickly form, each with a more absurd name than the last. I giggle over Yule Be Sorry and Mistle-Toes, but my personal favorite is The Jingle Belles, which consists of John’s grandfather and his two great-uncles, Ross and Rusty, who manage to eat while playing.

As the Sleigh What? team stands for their turn, I marvel at the sheer volume of laughter filling the room. Lizzy is attempting to act out Frosty the Snowman while hopping on one foot and pretending to juggle.

“A penguin on a pogo stick,” someone shouts.

“Elsa with a caffeine addiction,” guesses another.

I turn to John, my eyes wide. “Is this what normal families do on Christmas?”

He pulls me closer. “Normal is overrated. Welcome to our family circus.”

When it’s our turn, John and I stand. We’re the Tinsel Titans. I draw a piece of paper from the hat—a Santa hat, so I guess they’ve stuck with the theme today—with what I’m supposed to act out. The Grinch is written on the paper.

My stomach plummets. I might be able to feign a cheery voice, but this has me stumped.

How on earth am I supposed to act this out?

John gives me an encouraging nod, and then, right when I’m about to give up, inspiration strikes. I puff out my cheeks, scrunch up my face, and dramatically shrink imaginary objects around me.

“Deflating balloon animals!” Aunt Theo guesses.

“My hopes and dreams after 2020!” shouts one of the many cousins.

I shake my head, frantically pointing at the Christmas tree.

“Oh-oh, the Grinch,” John says as the timer runs out.

The room erupts in cheers and playful boos. As we return to our seats, flushed with victory, I can’t stop smiling. I’ve never experienced anything like this before—the loud, unrestrained joy and the way everyone seems genuinely happy to be together.

John’s eyes twinkle. “Having fun?”

I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. “I can’t believe how everyone gets along. No one is snipping or making snide comments. It’s like a Hallmark movie, but with more yelling and questionable charades skills.”

John hugs me. “We’re a bit much at times, but we’re family. A crazy, loud, loving family.”

And today I get to be a part of it. I wiggle my toes.

As “The Jingle Belles” attempt to act out Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (with Grandpa George being Rudolph), a ball of warmth settles in my chest. I’ve been accepted without having to do anything but be present. For once, I feel like I belong somewhere. And it’s as good a feeling as I always hoped it would be.

John’s arm tightens around me, and I realize that “somewhere” might be right here, with him and his family. His touch sends more sparks flowing through me. If there’s such a thing as Christmas magic, I hope this is it and what I’m feeling never goes away.