“I just don’t want to complicate things, Will, that’s all.”
“By letting me touch you?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Listen, I changed my mind. I’m not going to tell them about the record deal now. I don’t want to have to explain all the fine details to every member of my family on Christmas Eve. Let’s just be together… okay?”
He looked so pathetic standing there, rejected. He corrected himself a couple of times when his body made involuntary movements to reach out and touch me. He was fighting the urge to just simply take my hand or kiss my cheek. I didn’t know why I was being so harsh; he hadn’t really crossed the line, although the soft kisses on my neck were certainly testing the limits. The charade and the constant touching created so much confusion. I couldn’t tell anymore what we were to each other.
Maybe Will wanted me to come home with him and meet his family just to pretend for a few festive moments that I was his girlfriend and he was just like the rest of them… loved. I buried my head in his chest and hugged him around the waist; he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “Okay, you’re right, let’s just enjoy this time off. And we can hug… like this, all you want. This is what friends do,” I said and he squeezed me tighter.
When we returned to the living room everything was back to usual business. Rita displayed the cut-up turducken and everyone cheered. I wasn’t sure what all the hype was about—it tasted like turkey, duck and chicken. No surprise there, but it was charming how the entire family got so excited over it.
After everyone left, Will’s dad went off to his bedroom and Rita and I cleaned up while Will made a bed on the pullout sofa.
“Will, you’re almost thirty years old. I think your father and I will be okay if you and Mia want to sleep in the guest room.” Will looked over and waited for me to make a decision. It wasn’t like sleeping in the same bed was anything new for us, but I think after the episode in the bathroom he didn’t want to make any assumptions.
“That’s fine, thank you, Rita.”
She looked at me and then cupped my face and said, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to be here.” I truly meant it. I studied Rita’s features. She had the same dark eyes as Will and the same full lips. She wore round glasses and her gray hair was in a bob. She was much older than my mother, but she had a youthfulness about her that I was sure Will had inherited.
In the guest room Will stripped down to his boxers, slid into bed, and rolled away, facing the window. I dug through his bag and pulled out one of his white T-shirts and slipped it over my head.
“Night, Will.”
“Night, buddy.” He said with a tinge of irritation. He made no attempt to touch me.
The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. I threw on some sweats and went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. When I got to the living room, Rita yelled out, “There she is. Merry Christmas, Mia!” Will’s parents were dressed in matching red pajama sets and Santa hats. His dad did not seem the least bit amused; it was clearly his mom who was the festive one. Will had on flannel pajama bottoms that I had never seen—they really made him look domestic and I think it turned me on. His white T-shirt was a stark contrast against his tattooed forearm and his hair was wet and brushed back away from his face. He looked unreasonably handsome for first thing in the morning.
There was a fire going and the lights on the Christmas tree were twinkling. I sat down on the couch next to him and put my hand on his leg. “Merry Christmas, honey,” I said softly and then I puckered my lips. His parents’ eyes were glued on us. Will focused on my expression as I gave his thigh a squeeze.
His eyes kissed mine and then he let out a barely audible sigh as he leaned over and pecked my lips. “Merry Christmas, baby.” His mom gave me a steaming mug and I wrapped my hands around it and folded my legs onto the couch, curling up into Will as I sipped my coffee.
Rita sat back on her heels, next to the tree. “Okay, it’s time to open presents,” she said as she handed me a box with a big red ribbon on it.
“Thank you so much—you didn’t have to get me anything.”
I tore the wrapping open and lifted the lid to find a gray, high-necked cashmere sweater. I put it up to my face. “Wow, I’ve never had cashmere, this is beautiful. Really, it’s too much.”
“Don’t be silly, Mia. Will has never brought a girl home for us to meet, we’re thrilled to have you here and we wanted to get you something you would like. I sent Will a picture of the sweater and he gave me the thumbs-up,” she said, giggling. She looked at Will, who was smiling at her with love.
“Thank you so much.” I got up and handed Rita the present I’d bought for her and Ray.
“Look, Raymond, a French press! I’ve always wanted one of these. Thank you, Mia.”
Will and his parents exchanged some gifts; he bought his dad a Civil War anthology and a baseball documentary DVD box set… very Americana stuff. For his mom he had a book called How to Write a Cookbook and a gift card to Williams-Sonoma. When she opened it he said, “You have to do it, Mom. Write the book, people will love it!”
Rita looked over at me and said, “I’ve been saying I wanted to write a cookbook since before Will was born.”
“You should, Rita, you’re a fabulous cook. Will has made so many of your dishes for me and I can’t get enough. I’m really going to miss it when he’s gone.”