“What is it?”
“My mom,” he’d said.
For a minute he hadn’t said anything else, and even though Lauren had been dying to know more—What does she want? What did she say?— she’d threaded her fingers in his hair, waiting patiently for him to tell her.
“There’s this fancy tea place, and she wants to know if I want to meet her for Christmas Eve tea?” He’d said it like a question. “She put in a lot of details about the scones and mulled wine. There’s even a screenshot of the menu.”
“Do you want to go?”
“It looks fucking delicious,” he’d said.
“Of course it does. It’s scones. But do you want to see your mom?”
He’d tapped on the screen, zooming in on what looked like a pink filigreed invitation straight out of a Jane Austen novel. She’d expected more commentary on the menu, some funny observation or rant about the prices, because she was sure a place like that would be expensive. She knew Asa well enough by now to know that humor was one way he dealt with stress, and sometimes the higher the stakes the more he joked his way through it.
He’d turned his head so he was looking at her, and for a moment there’d been something in his eyes that almost took her breath away. It had felt like . . . but she didn’t even want to put words to it, the way you weren’t supposed to speak a birthday wish aloud.
“I’m not ready,” he’d said finally. “I know it’s the time of year when you should reunite with family . . . I tear up at the end of Home Alone when the old man picks up his granddaughter, just like anyone else. But I’m not ready to do this yet.”
“Okay,” she’d said. “Then the scones can wait.”
From that conversation, Lauren knew that Asa’s usual Christmas tradition was to hang out with John and Kiki at home, since neither of them went home for the holidays, either, for reasons Lauren didn’t pry into. Elliot seemed to be the only one who had family relatively nearby and who was still on good terms with them, so Asa said that they were usually around before or after but not on the actual day.
He hadn’t expressly invited her to join them, and even though Lauren knew she was probably welcome, she hated the idea of being the needy, friendless person who hitched onto someone else’s plans. Maybe it would be better if she disinvited herself before the topic even came up.
“I’m actually going out of town,” she said finally, grabbing a stirrer for her coffee to avoid having to make eye contact with either Sonia or Asa.
“You are?” Asa’s voice was pitched a little higher than mere interest, sounding closer to surprise, and Lauren glanced at Sonia to see if she’d noticed. The woman had set aside her romance novel, her focus completely on the conversation, and Lauren wished she could tell her she needn’t bother. The sooner she was out of this situation, the better.
“Where to?” Sonia asked.
Lauren had never been a good liar. And she didn’t particularly want to lie, so the idea of seeing this through to making up a location and a fake itinerary seemed exhausting. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted. This time she couldn’t help but look over at Asa, whose gray eyes slid over her face, then down to where she was frantically stirring her black coffee, then away.
“Oh, to be young and single and free,” Sonia said with a sigh. “My in-laws have been staying with us for the past week, so I get the impulse to split town, for sure. What about you, Asa?”
“Not sure yet,” he said. “My plans keep shifting.”
This time she willed him to look at her, but he was staring down into his coffee mug like it held some kind of answer, so she muttered her excuses and headed back to her office. She wasn’t really surprised when Asa followed her, shutting the door behind him.
“People are going to think—”
“So let them,” Asa said. “What was that back there? Was that for Sonia’s benefit, or are you really planning to spend Christmas out of town?”
She shrugged, the movement stiff and unconvincing. “I might,” she said. “It’s a long weekend. Why not?”
She’d meant the question to sound casual, carefree, like December 25 was any other day and it shouldn’t matter one way or another what she did. But it came out all wrong, more like What other reason could I possibly have to stay, and she only realized how hurtful that implication was when she heard the words echoing in the silence that followed.