37. Aaron

37

AARON

“You’re wrong, Mom,” I say, checking the dictionary propped open in my lap. “Zaxes is a word—technically, the term for tools that cut roof slates.” I lean forward to count the points. “And it’s on a triple-word score, which means that Olivia and Nonna win.”

“Yes!” Olivia high-fives my grandmother, and Nonna grasps Olivia’s hand to hoist it above her head in a victory pose.

“Take that, losers!” Nonna crows, which makes Liv laugh.

“Yeah, loser,” she parrots, eyes dancing as she levels her gaze on me. “In your face!”

“Such a gracious and humble winner you make, Griswold.”

“Such a sore loser you make, Marino. I bet you’re dying inside. You never lose Scrabble.”

She’s right, I don’t. But I’m happy to lose to her.

I can’t look away from her sparkling eyes, her smiling lips, the way she gestures wildly as she and my grandmother celebrate their winning word. One that Nonna somehow happened to know and which makes me wonder what tricks she might have up her sleeve.

Literally. The woman has been known to shove tiny Scrabble cheat sheets up her shirtsleeves.

“Ah, well,” Mom says and I look over to see her smiling at me, a knowing glint in her eye. She clearly caught me in the act of gazing at Olivia. “Can’t win ‘em all.”

I toss my fingers through my hair with a sheepish smile before starting to collect everyone’s dessert plates.

Earlier tonight, I was feeling torn about going home to New Jersey. But now, I have everyone here with me, in one place.

In addition to this, we won our game earlier tonight, so the Cyclones are officially on a winning streak. I also haven’t heard from Brandi since the gala, and my love life has most definitely not been in the media—which means that Lieberman is placated and my captaincy is no longer being questioned.

A perfect end to the year, if you ask me.

Frick, I love Christmas.

Now, after an evening of pasta and wine and lots of gossip about Uncle Dino’s new hair plugs that he absolutely insists he did not get, we call it a night. Olivia gives Mom and Nonna big hugs before she heads to bed, but instead of following her, they wait until she’s upstairs and out of sight before turning to me with huge, matching grins.

“She’s a keeper, that one,” Nonna says in a satisfied tone, hands on her hips.

I load the last glass into the dishwasher, then turn to face them. “I know.”

“What does her brother make of all this?” Mom tilts her head curiously.

I’m a bit rattled by the question. I’ve kissed Jake’s little sister twice now, and I haven’t talked to him about it. Haven’t told him how I feel about her.

Which probably makes me a terrible friend.

“We, um, haven’t told him yet,” I admit. “This thing between us is pretty new, and Olivia and I haven’t even had a chance to talk about what we are, let alone tell other people.”

Mom frowns, her dark eyes scrutinizing. “What do you mean you don’t know what this is between you? You’re clearly head over heels for her.”

“Hopelessly so,” Nonna adds cheerfully. “You should see your face when you look at the girl. You’re a lovesick fool for her.”

“That’s rude.” I chuckle.

“No, it’s accurate. And it’s not an insult. That’s exactly how I imagine I look at Patrick Dempsey, especially when he’s playing McDreamy.” Nonna sighs.

Mom puts a hand on my arm. “Word of advice. If you’re as serious about Olivia as you seem to be, I’d recommend telling Jake sooner rather than later. He’s your oldest friend.”

She’s right. I know she’s right.

The longer we— I —put off not talking to Jake about this, the worse it might look when he finds out.

Because it really is a question of when . I’m not going anywhere, and I will gladly do this thing, whatever it is, with Olivia for as long as she’ll have me.

After Christmas, I promise myself. I’ll talk to Olivia first, and then we can talk to Jake accordingly, and I’m sure it’ll all be fine because he will understand that I have nothing but the best intentions and I will treat his sister like a freaking queen.

“I will, Mom.” I nod, appreciating her concern for me, but also for Jake and Olivia. “Thanks.”

Nonna yawns loudly, and we take that as our cue to head upstairs.

It’s only when we get to the top of the stairs that I realize I’ve been so distracted tonight, I’ve forgotten a very important detail…

“Where are you guys gonna sleep?!”

“Hmm?” Mom says. “I put my bags in the room full of your hockey stuff, and Nonna’s in the other room, just like usual.”

“But Olivia?—”

“Is in your room, no?” Mom asks innocently, though her eyes are shrewd.

“Well, yes,” I stammer. “But I’ve been staying in one of the guest rooms.”

She snorts. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”

“No, really. It’s not like that,” I tell my mother firmly. “Olivia’s staying in my room because I thought she’d be more comfortable. We’re not staying in there together.”

“Oh, come on, Aaron.” Mom tuts. “We’re not that old and fuddy-duddy that you have to pretend for us. We’re under no impression that you two don’t share a room.”

“Indeed.” Nonna folds her arms. “Don’t even try to fool us, my boy. I saw that scene on your doorstep earlier and it was like something out of a movie. The racy kind. You can’t fool us into thinking that you’ve been sleeping in separate rooms after we witnessed that. ”

I scrub a hand over my eyes. This is not a conversation I expected or wanted to have with my mother and grandmother, ever. Let alone now, when I’m tired and it’s late. I just want to go to bed, but instead, I’m standing in the hallway, locked in a stalemate.

“It’s true, Mom,” I insist, trying to think of how to solve this. “Look. What if I book you guys into that nice hotel a couple blocks away? That way, you have lots of space, and you won’t have to sleep in rooms filled with my hockey stuff or a bunch of crochet animals.”

“But I always sleep in the room with all your hockey memorabilia,” Mom says with a wicked gleam in her eye. She’s enjoying this way too much.

“Family does not sleep in hotels, Aaron. I won’t hear of it,” Nonna scolds with a slightly terrifying wink. “So, off you go. Scamper on back to that beautiful girl of yours, and we will see you both in the morning for a nice Christmas Eve breakfast.”

Oh, dear Lord in heaven.

Part of me wants to argue, but deep down, I know it’s a lost cause. My mother is more stubborn than an ox, and Nonna is going to be mortally offended if I offer to pay for a hotel again.

Clearly, the easiest thing to do is give them the guest rooms, and I’ll crash on the couch for the remainder of their stay.

Merry Christmas to me.

“Okay,” I say as I idly wonder if there are any clean blankets and pillows in the linen closet.

“Good. It’s settled then.” Mom bids Nonna and me goodnight as she steps into her room with a knowing little smirk.

“And don’t worry about keeping the noise down,” Nonna says as she gives me a big smacking kiss on the cheek. “Your mother brought her earplugs and I plan on taking a sleeping pill.”

With that, she steps into her room, giving me another one of those terrifying winks as she goes.

I doubt I will ever be able to scrub my brain clean of that particular image.

Once they’re safely out of sight, I head to the linen closet in search of a spare comforter and pillow.

I’m rummaging around when the master bedroom door pops open and Olivia peeks out. “You look like a man who needs a place to stay tonight. Which is very Christmas-story-esque, actually.”

I groan. “Please tell me you didn’t overhear that conversation.”

“What conversation?” She blinks innocently. “Oh, you mean the one where your dear, sweet grandmother sent you off to have a night of wild sex with me?”

I groan again. “Yes.”

“Nah. Didn’t hear a word.”

Our eyes meet, and we both laugh. “I’m sorry about them. They’re just so desperate for a couple of Aaron Juniors, they can’t think straight.”

“I think it’s very sweet.” She opens the door wide so her flannel pjs are on full display. She looks cute as all hell. “So, you coming in or are you planning on standing out there all night?”

I hold up the comforter I found at the back of the closet. “I’m gonna sleep on the couch,” I tell her, even as I peek past her into the bedroom. “Might just need to mooch a pillow or two.”

She bites her full lower lip. Which is more than a little distracting, let me tell you. “I’m okay with you staying here. You know, if you want to,” she says quietly, almost timidly. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Olivia’s gaze is angled down, away from me, in such a way that I have to reach out and gently tilt her chin back up so her eyes meet mine. “Me neither.”

Truth is, I’m still aching to hold her.

So, I do.

I climb into bed next to her and wrap my arm around her, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Instinctively, I draw her close so I can smell her shampoo and feel her soft breaths—first shallow, and then deeper, as she falls asleep in my arms.

And right there, in the darkness, I realize with startling clarity that I have, indeed, fallen head over heels in love with her.