Crew: Happy Birthday.
Crew: Merry Christmas.
Crew: I sent you something.
I actually gasp out loud. He needs to stop spending money on me.
I also love how he said happy birthday first.
Me: Thank you. Merry Christmas! Stop sending me gifts.
Crew: Stop telling me what to do.
So grouchy.
Crew: When are you coming over?
Me: I need to spend some of the morning with my mom.
I don’t want my mother to be alone on Christmas. How depressing. My dad? I don’t really care what he’s doing.
Okay fine, I care. I want to be callous and unfeeling, but that’s not my style. I’m still hurt by what he did with Crew’s gift to me. I think he came home late last night, long after I went to bed, and never actually spent Christmas Eve with us beyond the disastrous breakfast, which I know hurt Mom. She didn’t say anything to me about it, and we got dressed up and went out to dinner after Crew left, just the two of us, which was fun, but I know she had her suspicions on where Dad went.
And I think some of them have to do with Veronica, the assistant.
If he’s actually cheating on her, after everything they’ve struggled with lately, I know…
This will be the end of their marriage.
Crew: It’s a low-key day for us. There will be food and my asshole brothers. My parents. My dad is an asshole too, but he’ll be on his best behavior when he meets you.
I love how he calls all of the males in his family a-holes. Sometimes, he acts like one too, ha.
Me: I’ll text you when I’m ready to leave.
Crew: Want me to send a car?
Me: Tell me Peter has Christmas Day off. Please! He deserves it.
Crew: He does. It’ll be someone else driving.
Me: I can find my own way over there.
Crew: No. Let me send a car. I want to make sure you get here safely.
I smile. Why is it when my father does stuff like this, it feels controlling and belittling, yet with Crew, it feels like he’s only protecting me?
Maybe because he believes in me. Tells me I can do things no one else can. When he looks at me, I can see the respect in his gaze. The admiration.
I feel the same way about him.
Me: Okay. Send me a car then. I’ll text you when I’m ready.
Crew: Text me after you open your gift.
Me: I will. Or do you want me to wait? I can bring it over to your house.
Crew: No fucking way. You open it in front of my brothers? They will give me endless shit.
Hmmm. I wonder what it could be.
Crew: Go open it, Birdy. And when you can, text me. Or even better, FaceTime me. I want to see your pretty face.
Me: Okay. I lo—
I backtrack that last statement, deleting it hurriedly. I was about to tell him I loved him. What in the world?
Wait.
There’s no denying that I do love him. I’m in love with Crew Lancaster, and I need to tell him how I feel. Does he feel the same way?
I hope so.
Me: Okay. Give me a few.
I send the text, my heart racing from my realization.
I climb out of bed and put my slippers on before I leave my bedroom. I head for the living room, where I hear Christmas music playing softly. The sound of my mother talking to someone—she must be on the phone. Maybe calling her sister. My aunt lives in Florida and I wish I could see her more, but I’m always away at school when Mom goes to visit her.
Which lately has been often.
When I enter the living room, the Christmas tree is lit with twinkling white lights, an array of presents lying beneath, all wrapped in cream and dark green wrapping paper. There’s one gift that stands out though.
The stark white box that is signature Crew.
“Oh, she’s awake. I should go. Yes, I’ll talk to you later. Merry Christmas!” Mom ends the calls and smiles at me. “Happy Birthday, darling. Your aunt says Happy Birthday too.”
“Thank you. I should call her later.” I settle on the floor, staring at the presents.
At one in particular.
“Oh, she’d like that. We can call her back.” Mom smiles, reaching out to brush my hair away from my face.
“Where’s Daddy?”
Her expression hardens. “He’s not here.”
My mouth falls open. “Where is he?”
She shrugs. “He never came home.”
“Oh, Mama.” My heart breaks for her. I rise up and scoot over to her chair on my knees, wrapping her up in a hug. We cling to each other for a moment, and I close my eyes, disappointed in my father. That he would abandon her—us—so completely. On Christmas Day.
On my birthday.
“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s been bad between us for a while. I was trying to keep it together through the rest of the year like your father asked, but I am definitely filing for divorce in January. I can’t pretend any longer.” She pulls away slightly so she can look at me. “We haven’t been in a good place for at least a year. Maybe longer.”