Chapter 33

33

FIA

M y parents’ house smelled like Christmas, as well as the impending family feast that would be taking place tomorrow. Preparations were well under way for the endless list of dishes, and all kinds of clashing scents warred for dominance.

I rolled over on my side on the old floral-print couch, tucking my fist under my chin as I scrolled through my phone. I could hear Colin and Dad arguing about the baccala out on the porch, where Dad had been submerging the dried fish in salt water for days now. Mom was busy in the kitchen, working on her famous sauce for the pasta dishes, while chatting happily on the phone with what I assumed were my aunts.

I should have been enjoying the quiet while it lasted. This time tomorrow, the house would be full to the brim with family—everyone talking as loud as they possibly could, fueled by wine and whatever my crazy uncles brought to sip on.

“Why doesn’t she have to do anything?” Colin argued, standing in the kitchen, motioning all the way through the dining room and into the living room, where I’d been seeking solace.

“Seven Fishes isn’t the women’s responsibility,” Dad said gruffly, waving his hands in emphasis.

Colin shook his head. “Mom’s making sauce?—”

“Your mom is always making sauce! What if someone comes over today, huh? What will they eat if there isn’t sauce on the stove? Think, son.”

I smirked to myself as I cozied deeper into the cushions. Sometimes, after spending so much time in the city away from my family, I would forget our Italian roots. Seeing Colin and Dad gesture wildly to each other, the noise decibels rising every passing second, reminded me that Mason was going to be thrown into the fire tomorrow and there was nothing I could do but cross my fingers and hope that none of my uncles decided they needed to “speak to him about business,” AKA, telling him they know someone who could make him disappear.

I wasn’t sure where Mason was today. We’d spent a slow, lazy morning in my apartment and then he’d left in what felt to me like a hurry. We’d gone from rolling around on my too small couch under the glare of Christmas lights to him excitedly getting ready for a walk of shame in his tux from the night before, promising he’d call me later.

Well, it was later, and the text I had sent to confirm that he would be here in Brooklyn tomorrow around three had so far gone unanswered.

“Fia, honey, can you go upstairs and bring down the Famille Rose serving dishes? They’re in the linen closet!” Mom’s voice rang through the house.

I promptly rolled off the couch and hiked up the steps. At the top, my old room was directly across from Colin’s old room, both untouched from childhood. I grabbed the serving dishes Mom only brought out for this one holiday and balanced them in my arms as I crept back downstairs.

“What do you mean, you’re not spending the night?” Mom barked at Colin.

“I’m getting drinks with some of the guys from work, Mom.”

“Why no Christmas party this year?” Dad asked.

“With the menthol incident?” Colin waved his hand in disgust. “No one was feeling like celebrating.”

I set the serving dishes by the sink and rolled up my sleeves as my family dropped into another spirited argument about the fact that Colin, a thirty-five-year-old bachelor, wasn’t going to be spending the night at his parents’ house tonight.

“It’s tradition,” Mom whined before picking up the phone, which hadn’t stopped ringing since I arrived several hours ago. “You two always stay the night today and tomorrow night.”

“I’m a man now!” Colin threw his hands in the air. “I can get a drink if I want to! I’ll be back tomorrow, okay? With time to spare?—”

“Because you’re helping cook this year,” Dad cut in, pointing an accusatory finger toward Colin’s chest. “Like the men?—”

“Like the men do every year, yeah, yeah.” Colin shrugged into his coat, waving them off, but he kissed Mom on the cheek and clapped Dad on the shoulder. “I’ll pick up those cookies Uncle Theo likes, okay?”

Mom gave him a loving look as Dad followed him outside onto the porch, where their argument was cut up by laughs as Dad gave him rough kisses on each cheek.

I turned back to the sink, scrubbing the serving dishes clean and setting them on the rack to dry. Mom sidled up beside me at the stovetop, stirring the sauce. The smell of garlic, tomato, and basil were heavy in the air.

“I’m going to the deli,” Dad said from the exterior door off the kitchen and promptly disappeared. A peaceful silence hugged the house.

“We should enjoy this peace,” Mom said wistfully, reaching to grab her phone. She started playing some jazzy, old school Christmas music as we worked in companionable silence. Eventually she moved on from the sauce to make her famous homemade hot chocolate, and soon we were sitting on the couch together, snuggled in blankets while an old Christmas movie played on TV.

I checked my phone again. She noticed my obsessive behavior and cocked a brow. “Is he still coming tomorrow? Colin said he invited him.”

“ I invited him,” I corrected. “Seeing as we’re dating.”

“I’m honestly shocked Colin is okay with this.”

I felt myself sinking into the couch cushions in an attempt to disappear. Mason did say he was going to talk to Colin. He even insisted he be the one to tell him, which I understood, at least, at the time. But I figured Colin would have said something to me if the conversation had already taken place, and so far, any conversation I’d had with Colin recently had been the usual teasing, bickering, and gossiping about the family converging on the house tomorrow. “I’m a grown woman. It’s not like I’m still in high school wanting to date one of his friends ten years my senior.”

“The women in this family do love older men,” Mom joked with a glint in her eye, smiling around the rim of her mug. “Your father is fifteen years older than me.”

I returned her arched look. “I’m not dating Mason because he’s older than me.” I shifted my position to face her fully, crossing my legs beneath the blanket. “I like him. We suit each other. Like gloves. I’m his right-brained glove, and he’s my left-brained glove.”

“You’re a special girl, Fia.”

“I hope you mean that in a nice way.” I laughed.

Mom was smiling, a gentle, loving look in her eyes. “I haven’t seen Mason in a very long time but I’m looking forward to seeing him and seeing the two of you together. Have you warned him?”

“About the family? Yes. I have. Whether he’ll take my advice to keep his mouth shut and just observe is up to him.”

“And you’re still going to see his parents tomorrow night?” Mom asked.

“That’s the plan.” I reached for my phone again. “I haven’t heard from him since this morning though.” I was trying not to panic. It wasn’t like we were sixteen and I had to talk to him all the time. In fact, we’d gone days without talking to each other and nothing changed at all, but for some reason, I had a nagging ache in my chest whenever I scanned my notifications.

“He’s probably grabbing drinks with Colin tonight,” Mom said, shrugging. “Are you sure you want to spend the night tonight? I know I told Colin it was tradition, but you’re right, you’re a grown woman. If you want to see your friends in the city…”

“No, I like being here for Christmas. Plus I’d need to be here first thing in the morning, anyway, to help with the party.”

“Well, we’re not going to even be able to step foot in the kitchen with your uncles in control.” This was the only dinner out of the entire year, other than the occasional summer barbecue, where the men in my family did all the cooking. Mom’s sauce was legendary, so that was her only contribution because no one could do it like she could, and we all knew it.

“I’d like to get any and all interrogations about my relationship out of the way as early as I can.” I was about to lift my hot chocolate to my lips when my phone buzzed. I caught myself sighing with relief, but then saw it was only an email. Probably spam, but I checked it anyway, and the air left my lungs in a whoosh.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked, leaning in.

“I just got an email from Heather Schuyler’s secretary,” I murmured, meeting her eyes. I’d told her all about Heather and the party I managed. “They offered me a job.”

Mom’s eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful, honey!”

“In Los Angeles.”

A heavy silence settled between us as I held her gaze. Mom tried to look happy, but her eyes creased with worry. I slowly looked down at the email again.

“Dear Ms. Webster,

Mrs. Schuyler was so impressed by your grit and tenacity while planning her gala. As you know, Mrs. Schuyler’s late husband owned a production company in LA, in which Mrs. Schuyler still sits on the board. There’s a position open for Senior Event Manager at the Los Angeles firm. She’s already spoken to the board and the CEO, and everyone is in agreement that you’d be a fantastic fit for the position. We’d love to fly you to LA the first week of January for a formal interview. Please let me know if you’re interested. We’d be honored to have you on our team.”

I read the email out loud and watched Mom’s face go through a myriad of emotions. She could sense the hesitation in my wobbling voice and laid a hand on my knee. “Is that something you’d be interested in? It sounds like it’s yours if you really want it.”

“I don’t know what I want.” It was the first time I had admitted it out loud to her. It didn’t ease the anxiety swirling through my chest, though. “I like taking pictures. I like not working in an office.”

“Maybe this is a remote position?”

I shake my head. “LA is very far away.”

I could imagine myself there, which was the hardest part. I’d loved the rush of planning Heather’s party but it had taken a lot out of me. It was a huge event, and the idea of planning even bigger events for celebrities and award shows made my head spin. I took a deep breath and said, “I thought I knew what my future was going to look like. I’d work in a shiny office and manage some elite foundations’ events throughout the year. I’d have at least a one-bedroom apartment, still on the east side.”

“You can still have all of that.”

“But that was when I was dating Jake. I’ve had a year of just being Fia.” I gripped the blanket. “It sounds crazy but I didn’t mind being broke. I liked being a photographer. I liked having a flexible schedule and being able to get editing done at night. I liked being open for you and Dad. I liked—” I cut myself off before I could say anything I’d regret. “I don’t know what I want anymore. A few weeks ago, I would have jumped at this opportunity. I would have accepted without a second thought, but now?”

“What’s in your way?”

Mason. Mason was the only thing I knew I wanted. He was the only thing that my mind, body, and heart agreed on. But I knew once I told him about this, he’d want me to take the job. This was the whole reason I agreed to be his fake girlfriend, right? To make connections to further my career?

I just needed confirmation. I needed to hear him say this was real, that I was his, and our feelings weren’t just part of our scheme. I needed him to tell me to stay.

The phone in the kitchen rang. Mom squeezed my knee again, kissing me on the forehead before rising. “You don’t have to decide anything now. You have time. Want to go on a walk with me? I need to run to the store.”

I nodded up at her and powered my phone down.