12 Days of Mistletoe

7. Elliot

SEVEN

elliot

Bonnie Miller is red-faced and breathing heavier than she should be.

“You okay?” I repeat, leaning toward her.

“I need water. This sweater is hot, that’s all.” She plucks at her shirt front, fanning herself.

“Sure,” I tell her. The common room has a kitchen just through the door at our right.

“Ooo, Bonnie! You can come to the Christmas party!” Jocelyn says.

“And our annual cutting of the tree,” Evelyn chimes.

“Yes,” Gran says as if her word is final. “Bonnie will come to everything.”

“Oh boy,” Bonnie grumbles, her shirt-fanning doubling its pace. “I’m coming with you.” She skips over to where I’m walking and slips her hand into mine. Her fingers tighten around me, like she might be intentionally trying to cause me pain. But rather than pain sensors going off inside my limbs, my stomach decides to set off fireworks with the feel of her. The touch of this strange, beautiful woman is doing stranger things to my insides. I’m not used to touching women I don’t know. It’s not who I am. None of what’s happening is me. And by the death grip Bonnie Miller has on my hand right this second, I’m guessing it’s out of character for her as well.

What can I say? I panicked when I saw that Elliot poster board. The thought of that card going out to every single human I know didn’t allow me to think sanely. It might as well have read, “Merry Christmas from pathetic Elliot Eaton and his extraordinary family.”

“You don’t have to come to any party or tree-cutting,” I say. “I’ll tell them you’re sick.”

“Sick until I die?” Her brows rise to the top of her head. “And your grandma? I like her. I don’t want her to think I’ve died. She’ll give away my apartment.” She pulls in a long breath, her chest expanding with air.

Gran is a likable gal. I get it. But she’s overthinking it all. I pull a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water. “Not dead, just?—”

“So, what, we break up? What will she think of me and my cards after we’ve broken up?” With her free hand, she signs air quotes around the words broken up . “You’ll have to dump me.” Bonnie releases her tight hold on me and snatches the glass from my hand, downing the cool water.

My chin drops. “Uh, wait a second, I—I don’t want to dump you. She’s my grandmother. You heard her: I’m her favorite. I don’t want to lose that status.”

Bonnie rolls her blue-green eyes, her head bobbing backward. “I don’t want to lose my home! She’ll forgive you!”

I shake my head. “Gran would never kick you out for that. ”

“No,” she says, peering over at me. “Just for having a dog .”

In all the poster board commotion, I almost forgot about the dog. “You’re just a dog walker, right?” How in the world am I supposed to explain this to Gran? The very girl I’ve been complaining about is her favorite tenant and my secret girlfriend? Yeah, that’s gonna be easy to sell—or not. Ugh.

I sit in silence as Bonnie downs two more glasses of water, her left hand lying at her side, her fingers fisting together in a nervous twitch. I clear my throat. “Better?”

“Some.”

“Okay, then, let’s get this over with.”

Walking back to the common room, we see my sisters, Mom, and Gran standing around the common room table—those dang poster boards on top.

“Just add Bonnie ,” Jocelyn says.

“Bonnie isn’t an E word,” Mom complains.

“What’s going on?” Bonnie asks, peeking over Evelyn’s shoulder to see one of the poster boards.

“Oh, hey,” Evelyn says, turning to face us.

“Picture time?” Bonnie says. She smiles, but her teeth are gritted together not so sweetly.

“Mom does a unique Christmas card every year,” Evelyn explains. “This year she decided to make announcements.” My sister flattens a hand to her tummy. “Expecting?—”

Bonnie’s brows lift in understanding. “Congratulations.”

Evelyn keeps going. “Engaged.” She points to Jocelyn, and Parker waves from across the room where he’s sitting with Jackson. “And Mom and Dad’s sign says Europe.”

“And yours?” Bonnie says, turning to me. “What’s your announcement?”

“Um.” My brows lower in thought. “Well?— ”

Jocelyn holds up the poster board made for me. It’s covered in trees and mistletoe and Christmas ornaments, along with only my name: Elliot.

“Elliot?” Bonnie says. “That’s your big news? Your name?” And then my lousy fake girlfriend laughs at me.

“Oh, Elliot doesn’t have an announcement—so we went with an E theme,” Mom says with a consigned nod, her lips turning up at the corners. How can she grin? She’s to blame for this situation… sort of. Sure, she didn’t announce to my family that I indeed have a girlfriend—when I, in fact, don’t. But she’s the reason for this impossible Christmas card fiasco.

“ E .” Bonnie taps her forehead. “Ahh, now I get it.” She speaks more to herself than to anyone else.

“I still say we just add on ‘and Bonnie , ’” Evelyn says. “What else would you add, Mom?”

“Unless,” Gran says, stepping closer, “we change the letter?”

Mom wrinkles her nose. She doesn’t like this idea. She worked hard on her E-themed cards.

“To what, Gran?” Jocelyn says, holding up a Sharpie, ready to write.

“Well, M would be easy enough.” Gran points to Evelyn. “Mommy.”

My mother sighs a little. Her daughter is going to be a mother, she’ll be a grandmother. It’s worth sighing over.

“Milan.” Gran motions to Mom. “You said that’s where you’re going, correct?”

“Yes. Those two would work, but Jocelyn?—”

“Marriage, of course. That’s the easy one, Marlene.” Gran taps the poster lying on top as if it might magically change with her thoughts .

“Elliot is still the problem,” says Mom, sliding a quick glance my way.

A smothered smirk sounds from Bonnie beside me. She agrees, wholeheartedly, I am the problem.

“Excuse me,” I protest. I didn’t do anything. I’ve been a good son, a good grandson. “I am not a problem.” I am tempted to glare at my mother, but I know better.

“What about Merry?” Jocelyn says. “You know, like happy?”

This answer only gets her another wrinkled nose from Mom.

“No!” Gran’s eyes light up and then narrow. I’ve seen that look before—when she talked Gramps into building her that arched lattice for her garden. “I’ve got it. It’s perfect.” Her eyes scan over my sisters and mother as we all wait for her to speak her brilliance. I’m hoping that brilliance includes something about retiring this awful tradition and leaving poor Elliot alone.

Gran grins as her gaze stops on Bonnie and me. “ Mistletoe .”

“Mistletoe?” Bonnie swallows; the gulp is audible.

“That’s perfect,” Mom says with a giggle.

“But is it?” I add. “Merry isn’t bad. I’m happy. Bonnie’s happy. That works.” Or no picture at all would be fine —I don’t actually say that thought out loud. I don’t need all the women in my life upset with me just in time for Christmas.

“Yes.” Bonnie nods emphatically. “What he said. Merry . I vote merry!”

“Mistletoe.” Mom giggles again.

Dang . She is loving this idea. I can see it all over her bright, smiling face.

“So simple. So festive! Mom, you’re a genius.” My mother kisses Gran’s cheek. “Girls, get working, I’ve got extra poster board in the car.”

My sisters get to it like a Marlene Eaton well-oiled machine, and I am dazed. I was sort of hoping we’d get rid of the poster boards altogether. That we’d ban photo cards for the rest of time. I should have known when Marlene Eaton has a plan it doesn’t go unfinished. I will be doing photo Christmas cards until the day I die because if I don’t, my mother will come back from the grave and haunt me until I put on that red sweater or sit on that old man’s lap or hold that mistletoe poster.

“Should they be kissing?” Mom asks Gran.

“That would make sense,” Gran says, to which Bonnie pinches my side. Hard .

“Nope! Ah, no.” I stumble over every word, but I get them out. I make it known. I am not paying Bonnie enough. “No kissing. We aren’t big fans of PDA. No. Kissing. Photos.” I nod as if putting my foot down, knowing that Mom and Gran will make this decision without me.

Mom rolls her eyes and Gran sighs—they are indeed mother and daughter. And they’ll plan this photoshoot however their motherly hearts desire.

“Maybe just a peck, then,” Mom says.

Bonnie stiffens beside me, then walks right out the common room door.