UNDER THE WRONG MISTLETOE.

INE'S

ammered, turning fully to his d

between us, the faint clinking of cutlery and the distant murmur from upstairs making everything else feel miles awa

lls I'd built my whole life. "With who? I... I don't know what you're talking ab

flinch. "You really wanna play that game? Fine. I'll go

d my hands in desperation. "Okay, okay, okay. I'll tell you everything...

n. There was no patience here, just t

together nervously. "This place isn't safe

y every thought. "Fine," he said at last, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, "but

a solid explanation. Something believable, something that could

l threads of conversation. Plates clinked, silverware scraped, laughter mixed with

so much time," I mum

, her words sharp and deliberate, her smirk cutting like a knife. I turne

- seating arrangements, guest lists, floral patterns. I tried desperately to blend in, to become invisible

reath stolen under the pressure of knowing what had just happened in the bathroom. The ki

ubtly observing, like he always did. He'd known me since we were kids - better tha

He always looked out for me, even when I was an u

departure threading tension through the room. "Dinner has been nice so far; I hop

been... pleasant." His voice carried the usual stiffness,

clear, piercing through the lingering tension. "I want to

ised elegance flickering with approva

onversation. "I won't be available. I'll be moving to Canada tomorrow,

ose slightly. "It's okay, Cal

ecessary," Mrs. Halston added smoot

alston interjected. "But

his father, pleading with hi

ten and twist uncomfortably. I looked away, forcing a smile, even as a part of me felt a strange, guilt

airs, Betty and Mom vanished, probably discussing wedding plans with giddy excitement. Dad settled into his chair

e kitchen. And the tension crackled

ng to find normalcy in the clinking plates. Jeremy, however, d

ht, then why bother helping with the dishes?

been wondering," he said, eyebrows lifting, "what possible reason c

, firing waves of heat and shame. My cheeks flushed crimson. "Isn't that... what happened in the

my hands, trying to hide my embarrassme

," he countered with a

hen island, feeling the wood cool beneath my palms.

xpression that made me roll my ey

sharply, mortified. "What is it

nrepentant. "

erate. But he only shrugged, that knowing, teasing s

I murmured, voice softer now, "Calhoun and I knew each other way before I eve

stantly, realization dawn

. "And I didn't even think he'd still recogni

s his face. He perched on the edge of the island, elbows restin

est friend, my confidant...because I knew the answer: no matter how hard I tried to suppre

, voice gentle but firm. "Whatever it is you're doing, just r

I do?" My voice cracked, betraying the uncertainty I t

I know will figure it out herself, regardless of what other people think." He smiled brief

aybe I could figure this out. Maybe I could navigate this storm of heartache, lust, and guilt the same wa

y. No matter how w

ant loving th