Haunt Your Heart Out

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Natalie’s truck rumbled into my driveway early the next morning, and she let herself in with her spare key. The rickety storm door crashed back into place behind her. I met her in the kitchen, my fuzzy pink bathrobe tied into place to chase away the chill that had settled through the night without the fireplace roaring.

“Oh, good, you’re up,” Nat said.

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine. Coffee?” I stifled a yawn with the crook of one elbow while shaking old coffee grounds from the filter with my free hand.

“Yes, please and thank you.” She yanked her phone from her pocket and shoved it into my line of sight. “And while it’s brewing, maybe explain this?” The screen displayed blocks of text, a paragraph for each message I’d sent her. Full-blown regret dripped from each one, explaining what I’d learned about James, the prize money, his mother … all of it.

I shoved the coffee carafe into place and pressed the brew button. “I know. Last night was a doozy.”

“That’s one word for it. Why have a conscience now, after the damage is done?”

“Better now than after it’s too late to come clean, right?” I prompted.

“Coming clean means risking the bookstore, Lex. You’ll never get another chance like this, and I can’t watch you tank your dreams over some hypothetical. If anything, I think you’ve added to their story, not detracted. All of your teenage angst is stoking the fire that this documentary could be.”

Nat pulled two plates from the cabinet and popped two bagels into the toaster oven before plunking into a seat at the table.

“He has to know Haunted Happenings was all fake. They’re both adults who, I assume, have at least a sliver of common sense. You’re telling me two adult men who direct documentaries for a living couldn’t spot the inconsistencies or obviously cheap filming tricks?”

“Hey,” Nat said, faking offense. “Those special effects were ahead of their time.”

The timer on the toaster oven dinged, so I retrieved our breakfast, slathered cream cheese on my bagel, strawberry jelly on Nat’s, and brought the plates to the table.

“There’s a chance they thought it was real. I mean, people still believe the lunar landing was faked because of a few videos about shadow alignment and a wavy flag. If there’s an audience that believes people would go to that much effort to pretend-explore a celestial object, then maybe there’s a similar audience that believes every word Luna had to say. Luna does mean moon, you know …”

“Your confidence is astounding.” I grabbed my phone and tapped into the YouTube app, nibbling my bagel and scrolling at the same time. “Look, I’ll give you three examples of how unbelievable it all was in three seconds. One, two …” I prepared to show her the recent videos section of our long-abandoned channel.

A text popped up. Reminder: Your United flight ( UA7012 ) is coming up. Click here for flight information and check-in details. To opt out of text reminders, click here .

I dropped my bagel onto my plate and opened my email with a crumby fingertip. There, staring back at me, was a confirmation email from the airline, thanking me for booking a flight. For two: Alex McCall and James Coen. The next email was a two sentence note from my mother. “Because money was apparently an issue, we have covered the cost of your tickets. Please consider it a gift. We look forward to meeting James.”

“Guess who just got free tickets and a guilt trip after I told my parents I was staying home for Christmas.”

“They didn’t.”

I showed Nat the phone. “They absolutely did. As if I needed more reasons to owe them, now they’re flying me and James out to California, last minute.”

Natalie’s eyebrows raise. “That’s one way to get the family together.”

“Excuse me a moment, I have to make a call.”

“Lex, think about this. You’re only going to make them upset. It’s—” She looked at her watch. “Damn, Lex, it’s still the middle of the night there. Just hang up and give them a few hours to wake up. Think about what you’re going to say before you—”

“I can’t believe you’d be so incredibly fucking selfish, Mother,” I said the moment the call connected.

“Alex?” My mother groaned into the phone. “Alex, please. Language.”

“I will use whatever language I damn well please, Mother. I’m an adult. How dare you? How dare you book me plane tickets with asking first? But you win, because now I feel obligated to come.”

“Is there an emergency, Alex?”

“An emergen … an emergency? Hell yes, Mother, there is an emergency. My parents are assholes who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer. What if James and I had plans? We can’t just drop everything. James has a dog. We both have jobs. Responsibilities. You can’t force us into compliance, you know.”

“If you’re quite through, you can continue yelling at me over Christmas. I have obligations in the morning and simply must hang up since I only have … dear god, Alex it’s four in the morning. Calling at such an hour, honestly I could just—”

“Well, it’s seven here,” I shouted into the receiver, but she’d already hung up.

Natalie approached slowly, peeled the phone from my grip, and set it just out of reach. She placed both hands on my shoulders and squeezed gently. “You good?”

I most certainly wasn’t good. But at least I knew what to expect from my parents. I wished shock was an emotion the betrayal had drudged up, but I landed somewhere closer to “disappointed, but unsurprised.”

“Totally good. I’m cool. They’ll always find ways to piss me off.”

“I’m not sure why a free flight is such a bad thing, and this is a friendly reminder that you might be overreacting. But rage if you must. I’m listening.”

I dragged my fingers through my hair. “It’s not the free ticket. It’s that they think I’ll fall into line if they throw their money at my problems. Like they can win me over that way, earn my forgiveness.”

“So, use it to your advantage. Tell them all you want for Christmas is the money to buy the store and to stack your house repair fund.”

“I don’t need their help, Nat. I can do this. Besides, I’d rather sell the house to my worst enemy than ask them for money. Then I’ll just … move into your bedroom. Your parents would love it. I can reclaim my role as their favorite daughter, and if you ever move out, I’ll pack up and move with you. Or maybe I’ll stick around since you’d be leaving your room vacant and all. It’s a fantastic plan, and one that doesn’t leave me asking anybody for help.”

“Only by default, because you know there’s an open invitation at my house.” She flopped her head onto my shoulder.

I leaned in and rested my head against hers. “It’s called a loophole, Nat. Honestly.”

She nuzzled into my shoulder, laughing, then stood. “Okay so, the blizzard didn’t hold back, and it’s a nightmare out there. I’ll be plowing all morning. I can throw you on speaker if you want to call and practice reaming out your parents more. Whatever you need.”

Though still fuming when I got to work, the frustration ebbed when I heard a jingle coming down the street—and the swishing of James’s wool coat to match. I unlocked the door, then double-kicked the bottom to encourage it to open just as the two arrived at the door. I stepped aside to let James in just as Lulu nosed her way past him and through the door. He followed her inside and took his usual spot in the most comfortable chair. Lulu climbed into the chair opposite James and wagged her tail, then yawned before resting her chin on her paws. I fired up the espresso machine, drizzled a bit of maple into the mug, then slid the drink across the counter toward him. “Soy, no foam, with a Vermont edge.”

“For me?” He pressed his thumb into his chest and nodded, smug, as he came to get his drink. “The service here has improved tremendously since my first visit.”

I flung a handful of wooden coffee stirrers at him, and they fell to the ground, except for a few that clung to his wool coat. His uniform was the same as ever—long coat, pressed pants, shoes not intended for icy weather, and that damned Yankees cap tilted just-so, but revealing his eyes just enough that I caught the playful gleam.

“Yes, well, it’s been brought to my attention that I was a little unfriendly.”

He cradled the oversize mug in both hands and inhaled the steam swirling off the top of it. After the first sip, he set the mug down, then leaned both elbows onto the counter and rested his chin on his closed fists. “What’s up? You’re chewing your lip, which means you’re nervous about something.”

“The fact that you know that is either sexy or terrifying. Not sure which.” I sighed. “I have something to tell you. You might not like it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How much will I ‘not like it’?”

“That depends on how much you enjoy being alone on Christmas Eve.”

“You’re canceling our Die Hard movie marathon? And I thought I knew you.” His eyes crinkled at the edges, and he sipped his coffee.

“Okay, not intentionally. But I talked with my mom, and she’s made it, uh, really truly crystal clear that I am expected at Christmas. She sent two tickets for us to fly out there.”

“To …” He bit his lower lip, and his nose wrinkled. “To California. To see your parents.”

I nodded. “Tomorrow morning. You are under no obligation to come. It’s fine, you can stay here. I’ll tell her you couldn’t make it—”

“When do we leave?” James asked.

I pressed my fingertips to my forehead. “I could never ask you to put yourself through that kind of torture.”

“Is it really so bad? I have some documentary business I can tackle while we’re in the area. We can make it through one weekend with your parents. You’ve made it through relatively unscathed so far— and you’ve met my father.”

“I just called my mother and yelled at her—the profanity-laced, name-calling, and no regard for propriety kind of yell. It’s not going to be a snowflakes-and-eggnog sort of Christmas visit. I get to go make nice, pretend nothing happened. Visit with Jordan and her perfect husband and perfect children. Listen to my mother complain that she’ll only ever have two grandbabies because I’m never reproducing. Suffer through my dad asking what my 401K sits at. Besides, if you come, who will look after Lulu?”

“Julian’s a pro dog-sitter. I’ll text him and make sure, but she’s in great hands with him.”

I wrinkled my nose while I searched for another excuse that would save him.

He took my hand in his. “It’s one visit. Make nice, eat some Cornish hens, chat, exchange gifts. I can handle it.”

“You obviously have never met my parents.”

“You obviously want to keep that from happening.”

“Trust me, it’s for your own good. They’re the worst.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got a buffer.” He offered a charming grin and his dimple appeared. “I think I owe you one.”

“I’ll be making this up to you for a very, very long time.”

James combed his fingers through his hair and his eyes flashed with an emotion that hit somewhere between bemused and proud of himself. I’d just invited James to Christmas with the family. Christmas. With my family. I couldn’t think over the xylophone jam my heart was playing against my ribcage.

Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to him.

But oh how I wanted it to be.

Having him meet the parents was a huge deal to me. Even the phrase “meet the parents” usually sent me listing off the ways it could all go horribly, terribly wrong—but with James, I didn’t want to find excuses.

I’d put off introducing my partners to the family because I was convinced it would be the thing that ruined the relationship—rather than accepting that the relationships were already broken. And I’d always rationalized it: She’s only here temporarily; he has plans for a future elsewhere. A merry-go-round of excuses that all revolved around the risk of being left behind when someone’s future carried them forward.

What had Natalie said? The fact that he might leave wasn’t a valid excuse to ignore what might be there.

It was incredibly fast to be meeting the parents—but maybe it was exactly the right pace based on the momentum of our relationship. Our forward motion would continue until an unbalanced force got in the way.

I couldn’t be the unbalanced force. Not again; not this time.

The bell above the door jingled as a ski-jacket-clad trio slipped inside and sidled up to the coffee counter. “Latte. Oat milk, no foam.” He held up three fingers and nodded to his companions, one at a time. They nodded back. “Make that three. Oat milk. No foam. You need to write down our names or something?”

“Nope, got it. Three oat milk lattes, hold the foam. Shredding the mountains today?”

They bobbed their heads. “Oh yeah. Yup, here to shred.”

“Neat.” I flipped on the milk steamer and scrunched my mouth to the side as I looked over my shoulder at James.

“Talk flight plans tonight?” James asked, grabbing his own out-of-town special latte from where he’d left it.

“I still maintain that this is above and beyond, and I will owe you so big.”

“Passing this IOU back and forth might be the thing that makes this relationship work. I’m willing to keep trying if you are.” He ambled backward toward the door, blew a kiss—ugh, adorable—and patted his hand against his thigh. Lulu slid out of the chair she’d claimed and trotted toward James, carrying her own leash in her mouth.

“James,” I said. “I’m happy you’re coming to Christmas.”

A soft smile crossed his lips. “Me too.” He hesitated a moment, a sincere twinkle in his eyes.

“Hey, on the table, right next to Lord of the Rings . Catch-22 . That’s your next assignment.”

He scooped up the paperback on his way by. “I think I’ve heard about this one. I owe you”—he peeked at the label—“two-fifty.”

The bell above the door hadn’t stopped jingling before my phone buzzed with the bank’s name flashing across the screen. I lunged to answer the call, caught between hope and terror. But the woman’s voice on the other end had that “we’re sorry to inform you” quality.

“We’ve had a chance to review your business loan application,” she started—and I knew what was next. “Unfortunately, though your credit score is adequate and you’ve obviously got the chops for the book business, you just don’t have the collateral necessary to back the loan. I’m sorry.”

“Of course, thank you for letting me know,” I said. “I appreciate it.” I wasn’t sure which was worse: wondering whether there was still a chance, or finally hearing that “no.”