Can’t Fight the Mistletoe

14

I bite back my own laugh, ready to confess, but she keeps talking.

“There was a look passed between the two of you, a secret sort of look, and I wondered if you knew each other somehow, and I don’t know. It struck me as intimate, and I was jealous.”

I scoot closer to her side of the couch. She studies the movement, tensing up until I reach for her hand. Her body melts into my touch as I scoot right up next to her until our thighs align and wrap my fingers around hers. My other hand glides up her arm, past her neck, to cradle her jaw.

“Thank you for telling me. Trusting me. I didn’t know Paige until about three minutes before when she introduced herself. I was planning to ask you to lunch. Didn’t know your dad was coming to town.”

I’ll be honest. It hurt she hadn’t shared her Christmas plans. We’d talked about spending the holiday with my family and inviting Paige once she confirmed her flight plans.

“I’m sorry,” Alessia says, pressing her cheek into my palm like a cat. My Alley Cat.

The thought prompts a smile.

She explains about her dad’s vague voicemail which sent Paige into a panic. “If I hadn’t called to clarify, he would’ve shown up completely unannounced.”

“How’d it go?” I hate the way my frustration and her laser focus kept us apart last night.

“Amazing,” she says with a peaceful sigh, then proceeds to run through the evening’s events and revelations in detail. “It was one of the best Christmas Eves in years.”

“That’s awesome.”

Her free hand traces gentle figure eights on the back of our clasped hands. She’ll lull me to sleep if she keeps it up. “Hey, I was wondering something.”

“Mm-hmm?” I murmur, half catatonic now.

“How come you never talk about your dad?”

I shrug. “Never knew him. He disappeared shortly after I was born, then later Mom learned he died. No one really talked about the details, and it became this undiscussed thing lurking in the background. I asked Tory once, but she didn’t know. Scout and Mave told us stories from when they were really little, but by then their memories had faded too much to glean any real feelings.”

Mom is not the kind of woman to discuss what she doesn’t want to, and I’ve never wanted to push her into a subject that might cause her pain.

“That’s sad,” she says.

I shift to make room for her in the circle of my arms. She gladly shimmies into position as I lean into the corner, adjusting until we’re mostly horizontal along the length of the couch.

“It is what it is. I had a huge family of women who loved me, and then I had Silas.”

“And now you have me.” She presses a kiss to my chest through my shirt. I kiss the top of her head.

“Do I?” I’m pathetic for asking, but I need to know where we stand.

“Of course, you do. I’m so sorry for making you worry yesterday. You haven’t given me a single reason to doubt you.”

“And I never will,” I say darkly, remembering there’s one other story I need to tell her. “Cheating is one of the worst things you can do to a person whether the relationship is serious or not. It’s still a betrayal and trusting someone again after is a huge risk.”

“Is this what you’ve avoided telling me? The real reason you moved home?” Alessia’s always had keen intuition.

I nod, clearing my throat and focusing on a deep breath in then out. “Her name was Santana, and she was the headmaster’s daughter.”

Alessia groans. “Not another cheesy trope. You’re killing me, Smalls.”

I chuckle at her Sandlot reference.

“You sure know a lot about tropes for someone who hates to read.”

“Film studies, remember? Tropes are in movies too. Pretty sure boss’s daughter is geared more toward the spicy romance crowd, regardless of format, though.”

“Not mine, I assure you.”

“Noted,” Alessia says, wiggling to get comfortable. “Go on.”

She’s killing me with those wiggles.

Concentrate, man.

“We dated a few months, casually but exclusively, or so I thought. When I discovered she was also dating one of the high school science teachers, I tried to end it.”

“Tried?” Alessia rolls onto her side, leaning back to study my face.

I shrug and fix my gaze to the ceiling. This woman is entirely too distracting.

“Santana didn’t care for being dumped any more than she liked being faithful. For the rest of the school year, she circulated rumors, played up the drama for sympathy. Demanded I take her back, and when I refused, went crying to Daddy enough times he opted to let my contract expire.”

“What about the other guy?”

“Heard they got married after the term ended. He landed an associate dean position at the recommendation of her father.”

“And you landed back home.”

“Precisely.”

Alessia shakes her head against my shoulder. “I’m going to call her Satana in my head from now on. Devil-woman didn’t deserve you.”

Gosh, I love her. Laughing, I tug her into a tight embrace until she squeals and pinches my side.

Making my fingers into a claw shape, I tickle her until she gasps, squealing into a fit of giggles. Then I make her squirm by rubbing my facial hair into the sensitive skin along her neck.

“Release me, you oaf!”

I obey, laughing my head off when she gasps as her butt hits the floor. Her look of surprise is almost as adorable as her lost-in-thought face.

I’m dying to kiss her again, to tell her how I feel. For now, I let the heat in my gaze do the talking. She rises to her knees, mirroring my look with enough heat of her own to melt the Taos Ski Area.

Before I’m tempted to drag her back onto the couch, I put my hands on her shoulders. “Wait.”

Her brow arches, but she complies.

“I want to tell you something, but first, open your Christmas present.”

She makes an aww sound in her throat before she smiles. “Okay. I forgot yours at my house. Can I give it to you tomorrow?"

“Of course,” I say, dropping to my knees to crawl under the tree for the flat, rectangular box.

“Oof,” she grunts as I place it onto her lap. “It’s heavy!”

In quick movements, she unwraps the box and peels off the lid. Her grin widens as she scans the contents and rolls her eyes.

My grin’s similarly broad as she lifts the book from its tissue paper nest. “Cinema is a Cat: a Cat Lover’s Introduction to Film Studies. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I think you mean you’ve got to be kitten me.” I pump my eyebrows. I’m a word guy. Puns are life.

“I love you,” she says mid-eyeroll, shaking her head with a smile.

Surprise and warmth flow over me at her words. God, if you love me, please let her mean them.

“I love you,” I echo sincerely.

She stills, and I watch the movement of her eyes as she replays the last ten seconds in her mind. Her gaze lands on mine as her cheeks go pink.

“You do?”

“Yes, Alessia. I love you.” I search through the tissue paper in her gift box for her other gift. “Part of me has loved you since sixth grade social studies when you spearheaded our final project and said you were glad it wasn’t science class because having Danger in the group was a bad omen.”

She blushes hard. “I was so mean to you. I think I’m going to be apologizing to you for the next fifty years.”

“Hurt people hurt people. I never took it personally.” I kiss the side of her head.

She turns at the last second and catches my lips. “I love you too,” she mumbles against my mouth before drawing me into a longer, more satisfying kiss.

As we break apart to catch our breath, I add, “Also, I’m happy to accept your apologies for the next fifty years. Especially if they’re like this.”

I unfold the tissue square in my hand to reveal a silver chain with a dangling cat silhouette charm.

Alessia scoffs, grinning with mischief. It’s my new favorite expression. As soon as I’ve fastened the chain around her lovely neck, she goes in for another kiss. Instead, her fingers dive into my sides where it tickles the most. I squirm, dodge, and wriggle until I’m able to overpower her with a few well-placed tickles of my own.

Hovering over her as our panting breaths mingle, I still at the seriousness in her brown eyes. Seriousness and humor. It’s a delightful combination.

“Danger? I’m sorry, but you need to kiss me right meow.”

This is my life now. Fifty years of cat puns, movie analysis, laughter, tickle wars, and kissing the woman who loathed me until she got to know me.

I’m a smart man, so after sharing another laugh, I happily kiss her right meow. Thoroughly.

Alessia

Monday morning, I take extra care with my appearance. My long, dark hair hangs in loose, glossy curls, a look I know Dan is especially fond of. Paige helps me with my eye makeup since I’ve never been able to do more than mascara without looking like the AI-generated offspring of a Kardashian and a clown.

“Done. You look amazing.” Paige gestures a chef’s kiss, gathering her eye shadow brushes and setting them into her makeup bag.

Compliments are tricky, and sometimes I forget to respond because I’m caught up debating too long between accepting the comment and waving it away. I manage to thank Paige and smile.

I step into a pale green floral print maxi dress with darker green leaves and red and pink flowers. It’s a perfect mix of Hawaii and Christmas. I’ll be freezing beneath my coat until I get in the building, of course, but it’ll be worth a few shivers when I get to see Dan’s reaction.

As I enter the living room with my coat over one arm and shoes in hand, Dad releases a low whistle.

“Lessi, mia bellisima figlia.”

My face warms at being called his beautiful daughter. Dad’s primary use of Italian to make women swoon used to irritate me as a teenager, but today it reminds me of the way Nonno called me “mia gioia.” His joy. Emotion pours over me, and I’m terrified I’ll ruin my makeup if I let myself get too sentimental.

Time to compartmentalize and focus on the task at hand: ensuring a flawlessly executed wedding day for two of my favorite seniors. After I accept Dad’s compliment.

“Grazie, Papino.”

“Is Paige almost ready?” Dad asks, peering down the hall toward her bedroom.

“She’ll be out any minute.”

They’re coming with me to the wedding. When Ms. Peggy learned I had family in town, she insisted. I wasn’t about to refuse time with either of them when we have precious little left before they return to their homes at opposite ends of the country. Especially now that Dad and I are making more of an effort to mend our relationship.

I’m nervous to introduce Dan and his family to mine. It’s early in our relationship to meet the parents, isn’t it? I’ve met his whole family, but that was unintentional.

Dad has never met anyone I’ve dated, but then, Mom and Gerald haven’t either. Which is in part because I was never in a relationship serious enough to reach this stage, but also because I’ve never believed they cared. Perhaps it’s time to change that.

“Let’s go, people!” Paige calls out, doing an exaggerated runway model strut, showing off her vintage style tea-length dress with a flared skirt and pineapple print, paired with sheer black tights and strappy white heels. Gorgeous as always.

Dad lets out a whistle for her, too, which brightens Paige’s smile considerably. “Oggi sei bellissima, mia cara.”

“Thanks, Dad. I do look lovely, don’t I?”

“You’re going to freeze,” Dad chuckles, holding out Paige’s coat for her.

She slips her arms into the sleeves then bends over, pulling at her tights. “Nope, they only look sheer. They’re skin-toned beneath the black and fleece-lined.”

“Genius.” Dad’s smile matches mine.

I wish I had a pair. Cold and I do not get along. Luckily, the wedding is in the pool house, which is humid and warm year round, and I’ll be too busy overseeing things to get cold. I only pray my hair doesn’t frizz.

Paige breathes out a long, “wow,” when I unlock the doors to the pool house, and we step inside.

“This is incredible,” Dad agrees.

I am proud of how the room turned out. The space already lent itself well to a tropical theme with a freeform-shaped pool taking up just over a quarter of the space. It’s rimmed with natural looking stacked boulders which serve as foundation to a small waterfall in the corner surrounded by potted ferns and palms. Large windows let in natural light.

The other corner is usually filled with lounge chairs surrounding the hot tub, but we moved them to storage for today. I didn’t want anything out of place. The pool lifts blend in nicely thanks to their stone color, and the potted plants I placed in the chairs camouflage them further.

Previously bare beige walls are now papered along the bottom third with a roll of tall faux grass. I hauled in every single potted tree, real and fake, from the public areas around the community, and then strung dozens of garlands along the upper walls and parts of the ceiling to create a jungle effect. I even found faux tropical plants online with authentic looking flowers.

Dan helped me unbox the online deliveries of additional greenery, but he hasn’t seen the final product. No one has but Peggy, who burst into happy tears Saturday morning when I did my preliminary reveal. I worked hard to keep it tasteful and avoided anything that might come off as tacky. Peggy and Silas deserve a beautiful wedding even if their theme still leaves me scratching my head.

My phone chimes with a text from Pam telling me the florist is here. I leave Dad and Paige in the pool house with the heavy roll of white anti-skid aisle runner and instructions for where to unfurl it. Once the flower arrangements arrive, I’ll place them around the room to complete the island effect.

I’m beginning to sweat by the time I spot Dan heading toward the pool house through the large windows on the east wall, so I race to the locker room for a quick peek in the mirror. Thank goodness nothing is out of place or frizzy.

The double doors swing open as I reenter from the opposite side. Dan stills in the entry, his gaze drinking me in from head to toe. His perusal sends me into a full body flush. With long, determined strides, he crosses the room, gathers me into his arms, and dips me into a kiss reminiscent of Silas’s smooth move at last week’s game night.

“Goodness,” I say. “That was some kiss.”

Dan grins. “You look amazing. Seriously, wow.”

“Thank you. So do you.” Boy, does he.

Silas and Peggy asked guests to dress for the theme, but I never expected to find a Hawaiian shirt and linen pants so sexy.

My dad clears his throat from a few feet away. Dan turns, and I watch with a twitch at the corner of my lips as the pair take each other in.

“You must be Mr. Catano,” Dan says, extending his hand. “I’m Dan.”

Dad accepts his handshake, clapping Dan on the back before releasing him. “Vic. Heard a lot about you.”

Dan smirks, sending me a sly wink which causes me to blush furiously. “Oh, really?”

“Actually, no.” Dad says, clearly teasing. “Alessia has said virtually nothing. Who are you again?”

This is so weird, but I love it. Happiness bubbles inside until I feel like dancing and twirling over every surface. I wonder if I can persuade Dan to join me in recreating the “A Lovely Night” scene from La La Land. It fits the dynamic of our relationship so well.

The alarm on my phone jars me back into focus mode.

“The wedding’s in half an hour!” I spring into action, directing Dan, Paige, and my dad as we straighten chairs and tweak the setup, then I excuse myself. Slipping into my coat, I hop into a golf cart and drive to the main building, then jog to the dining room kitchen to see how everything is coming there. The chef has it well in hand, and I have a wedding to get to.

On the way back, my mother calls.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer.

“Merry Christmas, Alessia.” She’s a day late, but I’m not surprised. I didn’t bother to call her, either.

“Merry Christmas. How was your holiday?”

She updates me on the kids and Gerald, and I smile at how happy she sounds.

“I missed you,” she says, which does surprise me.

Christmas must be making everyone sentimental this year.

“I missed you too. And the kids.” I plan to stop by later this week to give them their gifts.

She doesn’t ask how I’m doing, but she does ask if I’ll consider joining them for dinner on New Year’s Eve. I accept on the condition I bring my boyfriend. Mom pauses but accepts.

The whole conversation lasts less than five minutes, but it’s enough. Our relationship is what it is. Sure, I wish things were different, but I hope we’ll have the chance to fix it the way I’m beginning to with Dad.

My next alarm rings when I’m halfway back to the pool house.

It’s wedding time.

I duck into the seat Dan saved for me on the aisle. He threads our fingers together and kisses my temple. I close my eyes and savor the feel of his lips on my skin. I’ve never had a date at a wedding before. It’s nice.

At the head of the packed room, Silas stands proud and handsome in his white tuxedo. Though, I’m not a fan of the large red lei around his neck as his nod to Blue Hawaii. Beside him centered under the floral arch, Pastor Johns is wearing the borrowed Elvis costume. It’s silly but wonderful, and Silas looks so happy I might cry.

A shiver of excitement cuts through the room as the music cues Peggy’s entrance. Dan squeezes my hand.

All heads turn as the bride enters the room on her son’s arm. Her lilac-colored dress, embroidered with a border of white hibiscus, is a stunning homage to Joan Blackman’s gown from the film’s final scene. With her shoulder-length white hair curled into 1960s style waves, she could be a Golden Age movie star.

I sneak a glance at Silas. His eyes are rimmed, watery with emotion as he watches his bride glide toward him. In my periphery, Dan’s as affected as I am. Resting my head against his shoulder, I exhale a million pent up emotions.

Peggy shared a bit of their story with me the other day. Learning how their love was torn apart by pride, family obligation, and the Vietnam war layers this day with significance. It’s no wonder Silas is so emotional.

Peggy’s gaze hasn’t left Silas’s since her feet hit the aisle runner. Her son Peter walks tall and proud beside her. The pair beams at me and Dan as they pass our row. When they reach Silas, the kiss and hug Peter bestows on his mother before he places her hand in Silas’s has the whole assembly sniffling.

Pastor Johns breaks the ice with a ridiculously over-the-top Elvis impression, then guides Peggy and Silas through the standard vows before giving them the floor to add their own.

“You broke my heart at eighteen. I never wanted my family’s money, nor the obligations that came with it. I only wanted you. It took me a long time to forgive you, Silas,” Peggy says, her voice strong and sure. “In time, though, I came to understand why you wouldn’t elope when my parents forbade our marriage. You never wanted to come between me and my family. Your sacrifice, though it pained me, gave me the courage to stand on my own two feet and eventually repair my relationship with them.”

My eyes start to sting as I transpose my own family history onto Peggy’s. It hits hard how much I want a better story for me and my parents than the one we’ve been creating. Lord, I’m going to need Your help.

Silas clears his throat and picks up their story. “Leaving you was the hardest choice I ever made. The horrors of war didn’t compare to the pain of being separated from you. I came back a changed man, but I never forgot the love we shared. Never blamed you for marrying someone else. So long as you were happy, I could move on.”

Peggy sniffles. Silas cups her jaw with his shaking hand, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold in the tears.

“Except I never did move on,” Silas admits with a chuckle. “More than sixty years later, you still take my breath away. My heart did little more than keep me alive until that August day when you smiled at me, and it started beating again. I will love you until it stops beating and I take my first breath in Heaven.”

“And I will love you the same, Silas Cooper,” Peggy adds. “All my days belong to you until the Lord calls us home.”

Pastor Johns leads a short prayer and pronounces them husband and wife. Silas wastes no time in kissing his bride, dipping her in a film-worthy kiss that has everyone laughing and applauding. They face the crowd, joined hands lifted high in the air. I don’t know who starts the cheering, but it ripples down the rows as the happy couple marches past.

I want a love able to survive a sixty-year separation and bring a roomful of people to tears.

Dan leans forward before standing and meets my gaze.

Scratch that.

I want a love that doesn’t need to survive a separation.

A love that lasts sixty years through misunderstandings, apologies, and ridiculous arguments over movies. A love that comforts, reassures, accepts without judgment. A love that builds up, teases, coaxes the best out of each other.

The way Dan loves me.

He cocks his head to the side in silent question. I rise to my toes and kiss him on the lips. “I love you.”

I adore the feel of his smile against my mouth.

“I love you too.”