Mistletoe Misses

Chapter 16

Maddox

F or forty minutes, while our sandwiches grow cold and soggy, we make out on her couch like teenagers left alone in the house. We make great use of every minute and come up for air, surprisingly, with our clothes still on.

She’s lying on top of me during a rare break when a thought escapes my mouth. “It’s hard to believe we’re here.”

“Here in my apartment or together?” she asks with a giddy giggle.

“Together. I never thought I’d see the day.”

She props her chin on a hand to see me, a pretty smile brightening the room. “It’s good, right?”

“Yeah, it is. But, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.”

“Don’t say that.” All the joy and hope I saw in her seconds before dissipates into concern as she sits up. “I’m not ready for this—” she waves a hand between us “—to end.”

I adjust my position to sit beside her. “Me neither. I was referring to this private lunch, not us.” I mimic her hand waving. “It’s time we got back to work.”

A groan in protest that could be mistaken for another sound sends my head into a tailspin, especially when she climbs into my lap. Long, touchable legs straddle my hips as she squares off with me, her arms resting on my shoulders.

“Thank you for making my day special.” She lowers to press a tender kiss on my lips, careful not to ignite anything we can’t finish. “When can we do this again? How about you come back tonight and watch some Christmas movies with us?”

I glance over at the small pine tree in the corner by the window she set up earlier today, reminding me.

“I think Mom’s planning something for us tonight at our place.” The night of the parade, while we shared a piece of Nana’s maple cream pie, I mentioned how much I missed our tree decorating tradition. She got so excited she almost choked on a bite and snatched her glass of milk. Streams of milk trickled down her chin as she drank and cleared her throat. Watching her laugh and cough and spew milk was the cutest thing I’d seen since Sadie’s victory dance after our Rudolph cornhole match.

“How about tomorrow night, instead?” I suggest. “Aaron said something about a Santa Pub Crawl. Know anything about that?”

“Too well. It’s another Spectacular favorite. Not as popular as the Henderson Boys Kissing Booth but high ranking in the fun category.”

It’s my turn to groan. Since replacing my kissing memories with her lips, I don’t need any reminders of what I endured.

“What is a Santa Pub Crawl?”

“You dress up as Santa and visit all the participating bars in town. It’s a great revenue boost for local businesses. Each place will have a different holiday-themed bar activity going on.”

“Sounds like fun … except for the costume part.” An involuntary grimace of disapproval scrunches my face.

“Come on. No one can fulfill my sexy Santa fantasy but you.”

Taking hold of her arms, I separate us. “Stop right there. You have a Santa fantasy?”

“Not until you showed up.”

“I don’t look like Santa.”

“No, you do not.” Laughing, her hands run down my torso. “Wait until you see the store window painting. With the rumor mill running at full capacity already, I’m definitely winning the contest this year.”

“What did you paint?”

“I just designed it. Kaitlyn and all her artistic talent is bringing it to life.”

Confused, I hesitate before asking, “And it includes your Santa fantasy for the entire town to see.”

“Yep. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.” She points at herself and leans in for another taste of me.

Catching her unaware, I pick her up and toss her into the chair. The intrusion disrupts Trixie, and she barks in protest as she usually does when something interrupts her beauty sleep.

“Where are you going?” Carmen yells as I throw open the door and rush out without explanation.

Her rapid footsteps and Trixie’s yelping echo behind me, but I’ve got a good five-second lead down the stairs. I exit through the back door and take the alley on the other side. It barely fits a trash can, but I’m on a mission, and it’s the fastest route. My sweatshirt sleeves scrape against the brick until I squirt out onto the sidewalk in front of the store.

Trixie arrives next, and I gently toss her inside the bookshop before returning to Carmen’s store. Looking over the painting, I’m face to face with a rendition of myself in a skin-tight red T-shirt with white trim, tool belt, and accentuated biceps and chest—okay, maybe those are true to size—and black work boots over jeans. A startled woman stares at me through the glass, her paintbrush frozen in mid-stroke on the curve of Santa’s ass.

Carmen skids to a stop beside me with a huff, and my eyes dart from her to the supposed Mrs. Claus in the scene. It’s Carmen in a skimpy red dress and black, knee-high boots. Her curves are also accentuated in all the right places, and we’re kissing, quite seductively, under the mistletoe.

“Wow,” is all I can say.

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that. Kaitlyn is very talented.”

“Chicken dinner,” she brags, then sobers. “Is it too revealing? I know you wanted to keep things quiet. Say the word and I’ll erase it all if you’re—”

Curling her into me with one arm, I cup the back of her head with the other and dip her back with a kiss that could fog up the windows if we let it go on too long. Passersby stop to ogle and gossip, but with Carmen in my arms, I can’t seem to muster a care.

“You as a Claus is so hot.” I peck her nose and set her upright before I ignore the dangers of the rumor mill again.

“Right back at ya, big guy.”

Standing next to me, with her hand lingering on my pec and my arm around her waist, it feels as cozy as it used to. Right. “Do you have an outfit like that for the pub crawl?”

“No, but if it gets this reaction out of you, I’ll find one.”

“If you do, I’ll suck it up and dress like Santa.”

“Sexy fantasy Santa?”

“Who else?”

◆◆◆

“What’s on your face,” Aaron asks, his brow pinches in the middle while he sits in the chair beside me in the living room. Propping an ankle on his thigh, he leans back and studies me.

I unravel an arm from around Opal, who hasn’t left my side since I got home, to drag a hand over my jaw. It wouldn’t surprise me if tomato sauce lingers there from dinner. Mom’s lasagna is my favorite, and I scarfed down two heaping portions like it was my last meal.

“Ahh, it’s gone now.”

“What was it?” I ask, checking my hand and sweatshirt for evidence.

“A smile.” His laughter erupts, making Cooper and Dad turn from their posts by the fireplace to stare.

I catch Opal chewing on her bottom lip to hide her amusement. “Don’t encourage him.”

“Come on, you have to admit it’s weird,” Aaron says when he stops laughing at me long enough to speak. “You and Cooper are the only grumpy Hendersons. If you jump ship, I worry Cooper will be lonely.” He holds a grin, proud of his joke, until Mom pops him on the back of the head. “What was that for?” he asks, glaring up at her.

“You know. Don’t ask stupid questions.” She waves a hand for him to join her, and he flinches, instincts to protect him from another potential punishment kicking in. “You can make it up to your brother by helping bring the ornaments from the basement.”

“How is that helping Maddox?”

“When you all were little, getting the boxes was his job. Today, it’s yours.”

He grumbles on his way out with Oliver on his heels but knows better than to argue with her.

“I’ll help,” Kendall announces, probably to save the evening by ensuring he doesn’t screw anything up. He seems to have tuned out all the lessons on organization and situational awareness we got during our childhoods and lives more haphazardly than the rest of us. And she knows this better than anyone.

“Thanks, dear.” Mom clasps her hands together and breathes deep. “Archie, can you grab the new boxes of lights from the kitchen? This year, we’re going all out.”

“On it.”

“What can Cooper and I do, Mom?” I ask, not wanting to be idle.

“You can sit back and enjoy yourselves.”

“That’s not in our DNA.”

“How about humoring me just this once? You’ll get first honors with the decorations when—”

“Oh, no.” Cooper’s hands fly up, making Opal snicker. She shared a room with our sister until she went to college and knows what’s about to come out of Cooper’s mouth. “I refuse to take that from Kendall and have to hear about all next year.”

“What do you mean?” Mom asks.

“As the baby … no disrespect O,” he says to Opal sweetly, and she smiles up at him like he’s her favorite. Jealousy pinches at my ribs, and I make a note to step up my big brother game. “Kendall always goes first. We accepted that long ago.”

“Ditto,” I chime in. We’re both traumatized from her toddler years and beyond when she had to prove she could do everything her brothers could and do it better. She had to go first and set the standard for everything. It’s not entirely her fault. We played into it, wanting to ensure our girl’s happiness. “We’ll go last.”

“Not this year,” Mom protests. “You’ve both missed too much.” Tears coat her pretty brown eyes, and we both immediately relent.

“Okay, Mom. Whatever you want.”

“Ditto,” Cooper echoes with a crooked grin.

“Marilyn,” Dad says, gliding into the room with the boxes of lights and a wrapped gift perched on top. Kendall and Aaron flank him with containers of Christmas ornaments. “We want you to open one of your presents now.”

“I will do no such thing. It’s not Christmas,” she complains.

“You’ll want to open this one. I promise.”

“Do it, Momma,” Kendall urges, setting down the plastic container she carries.

“Alright.”

Dad hands her the gift, and she carefully removes the red and gold wrapping like it’s as precious as the gift inside. She peeks into the open end and bursts into sobs.

We all move in and place a hand on her, giving her our support while she lets her emotions flow.

“What is it?” I mouth to Cooper, wondering what could touch her so profoundly.

He mouths something back, but I can’t make it out.

“What?”

Trying again, he frames a box shape with his hands and wiggles an index finger.

Seriously? What the hell is that? I can’t remember the last time I played charades.

“It’s a photo printer, dummies,” Kendall says, rolling her eyes. “She can print pictures she takes with her phone from this monumental evening of having us all together and put them in this.” She holds up a matching gift bag.

Mom cries more into her hand before accepting the bag. Reaching in, she pulls out yet another box.

“What is it?” I mouth to Cooper, and he shrugs. We’re sorely out of touch with today’s technology, gift-giving, and everything that makes Mom happy, it appears. Speaking of gifts, I haven’t done a lick of Christmas shopping. Maybe Carmen can help. She owns a retail store, after all.

“It’s a set of picture frame ornaments, magnets, and regular A-frames so she can sprinkle current photos of your ugly faces all over the house,” Kendall says, bringing us up to speed with her usual flair.

“We all know you’ll take up ninety-percent of them,” Aaron complains.

“That’s because I’m not ugly.”

Mom’s still sobbing when she ends the teasing with a group hug—the best damn hug I’ve had in a decade. “Thank you,” she manages, and the same sentiment builds on the tip of my tongue.

I feel the urge to thank my family for loving me despite all I lack, all I’ve missed, and all I have yet to make up for.

“Let’s take our first picture,” Kendall suggests and gathers us all in front of the fireplace.

All the boys, naturally, are herded to the back, a line of mischief and stature that doesn’t belong in the front. Elbows fly left and right and anyone within arm’s length gets impromptu rabbit ears. Oliver bounces on the fireplace hearth, trying to match the height of his brothers. Cooper puts Aaron in a headlock at some point—a gentle reminder that it’s never smart to mess with a soldier. We don’t take shit from anyone, not even little brothers.

Kendall and Opal huddle in front, their smiles poised in contrast to the immaturity happening behind them. While Mom takes in the sight of her boys acting like fools and her daughters showcasing their perfection, Dad clicks away. He knows not to stop taking pictures until he’s captured the moment Mom’s been wanting for years. Based on her face lit with the biggest, watery smile, we did it, and she couldn’t be happier.

◆◆◆

We start decorating the tree the way we always do—each of us taking turns hanging our favorite ornaments. Some of these treasures have been part of our tradition since I was a baby, but the calm lasts all of three turns. Some of us—Kendall and Aaron —grow impatient with the casual flow of things. As it always did when we were kids, the peace morphs into a relay race, and then a full-blown free-for-all. We’re climbing over each other, elbows out, scrambling for the best ornaments, pushing our way to the tree as if our very lives depend on it. I’m amazed we don’t knock the tree and surrounding furniture over in our frenzy.

The chaos is magnificent, transporting me back to when I was twelve. When life was pure joy and the world was a playground. Euphoria washes over me, and for a bit, I’m tempted to let it carry me through the rest of the night. But since Aaron’s falling behind his big brothers in this activity, he challenges us to a flashlight snowball fight outside—something he thinks he can win. It’s a game we played every winter as kids, and since I haven’t experienced it with the twins yet, I’m the first to accept.

Soon, we’re running around in the cold darkness, completely absorbed in the game as if our lives depended on it. We build snow forts and form alliances to take out the opposition either by snowballs or brute force. Aaron teams up with Kendall and Oliver, but they don’t stand a chance against me, Cooper, and Opal. Cooper and I bring strategy expertise and years of training. I was an accurate baseball pitcher in high school, and my snowballs never miss. Opal, fierce and more ruthless than Kendall, is quick to throw herself into the fray for the sake of the team. I watch her and think, with a swell of pride, that we may have a future soldier on our hands. Oliver tries to make a dent with his speed and athleticism, but with Kendall barking orders more than she plays and Aaron going rogue, the three of them are easy targets.

Our team’s victory is one snowball away when Dad calls from the back deck, bringing us out of the war zone. “Who’s ready for the gingerbread house decorating contest?”

It’s time to enter his territory and start another Henderson tradition. Each year, the firefighters have an internal competition to see who from the station gets to compete in the Spectacular Gingerbread Decorating Contest. Dad always wins and practices his Spectacular-worthy design during our humble competition. One of these days, someone will overtake the hierarchy. My bets are on Opal. She’s quite the artist and has the most patience for placing all the tiny candy pieces.

After changing out of our wet clothes and warming up by the fire with hot cocoa, we gather around the dining room table set up with a buffet of every kind of candy and icing imaginable. Aaron starts trash-talking before my ass hits the seat cushion, and I can’t wait to shut him up.

“You all will be eating my crumbs when I grab second place,” he announces, and no one takes the bait but me. They’ve all had more practice at ignoring him.

“Only second?” I ask. “You don’t think you can beat Dad?”

“No one beats Dad. We’re all playing for runner-up.”

“I hope that’s not how you approach your baseball games.” I pause when a snort bursts out of Cooper. “If so, it’s gonna be a rough season.”

“You know I play to win, but this ain’t sports. It’s candy and crafts and not exactly my speed.”

“Yet, you still run your mouth.”

He beams at me. “Are you sure you want to participate? All this sugar might sweeten you up. Wouldn’t want to hurt your reputation.”

“I could use a new one of those, but it doesn’t matter. You won’t be here to see my transformation anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you like to talk a big game but rarely follow through. Let’s make proving me right interesting. If you’re still sitting there in fifteen minutes, I’ll pay you fifty dollars.” I take the bill out of my wallet and place it on the table for motivation.

His eyes widen. Fifty dollars will buy a lot of cheap beer for parties when he goes back to school, and I know that’s where his mind went.

“I’ll raise you twenty,” Cooper adds. “I’d love to see him finish something that doesn’t involve baseball.”

“Amen,” Kendall says, laughing.

Aaron scowls at her then comes back to me with his chin lifted. “You’re on.” Sheer determination paints across his face as he digs a knife into his icing container.

I get started too, and glance up at Dad’s a few minutes later. It’s not fair how he can manipulate the sloppy building materials and make them look good enough for a magazine photoshoot. My big, fumbling fingers can’t get the candy where I want it or make it stick. Not to mention icing is everywhere, especially where it shouldn’t be.

As predicted, Aaron loses patience within the first ten minutes and struts to the kitchen for a drink. Oliver follows suit, always in Aaron’s shadow, and they roughhouse or play video games to wait out the rest of us. Looking over at Kendall’s progress, she’s too meticulous and won’t be finished by judging time. Cooper’s, well, his looks like a kindergartner made it during recess. If the task can’t be attacked with military precision, he’s lost, but at least he looks to be having fun. He should be, Izzie sits beside him, helping him more than she works on her own.

Since Mom’s the judge, she’s sitting back chatting, sipping wine, and taking pictures of the fun. She laughs at our stupid comments and lack of skills, giving me another sound I wish I could bottle and keep with me wherever I go.

“No more candy,” she announces when the oven timer sounds. “Meet me at the kitchen island and present your designs.”

Yes, the competition is that serious. We all get in line by order of age. Dad’s last, of course, but he prefers it that way. It’s his chance to round out the judging and put us all to shame with added drama.

Opal kicks off the judging, and Mom studies every inch of her house. I’m impressed with her use of green and red gumdrops on the roof. She took the time to slice each one in half before placing them on the icing, making them look more like festive shingles. Looking down at the glittery sugar crystals I used with lazy abandon, I should have thought of gumdrops. They’re much cooler. She also created trees by separating and twisting strings of Twizzlers and adding fluffy snow with cotton candy on top of green sprinkles for grass. There’s even a walkway made of chocolate bars and smoke from the chimney in the form of blue cotton candy. It’s incredible.

“I think we have our first contender, Archie. Hope you brought your best,” Mom teases.

“Don’t you worry. Opal, honey,” Dad says, leaning around me to address her. “I love you, but you’re not winning this year.”

“That’s okay,” she says sweetly.

Next, Kendall sets her house on the island. She steps back and chews a nail while she awaits the evaluation. Kendall didn’t add any trees or special features to her house since she hadn’t finished, but she did a great job on the basics.

“Very nice, Ken. You were the only one to use mini-Hershey bars for the roof. It’s a unique choice, and the red sprinkles on the edges were the perfect accent.” She knows Kendall would appreciate the unique compliment more than something generic about her effort, like Cooper and I will probably get.

“Thanks, Momma.”

Izzie would be up next, but she tired of the excitement long before the judging began and escaped to her room. Cooper didn’t want her to be left out, so he set their houses on the counter, side by side, as the two of them always are. I wish she were here to stand beside him now because he looks to be coming apart at the seams. He’s fidgety and scowling more than usual.

“Well,” she begins, searching for a few kind words. It takes her a full minute to find them. “It’s better than last year’s at least.”

“I tried my best.”

“And I’m proud of you.” She pats his cheek and motions toward the bedrooms, giving him permission to go where his heart longs to be.

Half of me wants to slap some sense into him before he leaves and demand he man up and tell the girl how he feels. The other half can relate to his hesitation. I know he loves her, but he’s too afraid to lose her friendship if she doesn’t feel the same.

Dad nudges me from behind to wake me from my thoughts, and I add my house to the little neighborhood.

“Maddox,” Mom swoons. “I’m impressed.”

“Don’t lie.”

A hand lays over her heart in mock displeasure. “I would never.”

True. I give her a nod of apology and accept her compliment.

Unlike the others, she doesn’t mention my decorating techniques or choices. Instead, she pushes aside the tray holding my house and leans both elbows on the counter. “Tell me what’s given you this new glow.”

“I don’t know. Lots of things.” Reliving my childhood, being with the people I love most, seeing them happy and thriving, rebuilding my heart, and letting go of my anger. Why am I feeling so peaceful? All of the above. “I like seeing you smile.”

“You’re the sweetest, but I know of another reason.”

I try again, digging deeper. “I’m glad I’m here?” It comes out like a question, and I hope it’s the right answer because it’s the truth.

With a slap on the counter, she reaches across to frame my face with her hands. “Best Christmas present you could ever give me.”

She continues to take me in, and after a while, Dad pulls out a stool and sits with a dramatic sigh. “I guess no one cares about all my hard work.”

Mom’s body doesn’t move, but her eyes scrunch closed, tears forming at the corners as her lips roll together. The sight of her face turning red while she holds back a laugh, brings one out of me too. Except I turn it loose. Sorry, Dad.

Before I know it, Mom joins me and braces herself against the counter, gulping for air between spurts.

“What’s so funny?” Kendall asks, jogging back into the kitchen.

“Me, apparently,” Dad says, his mustache twitching with a chuckle.

Kendall glances between Mom and me and back again before landing on Dad. “You’ve never been that funny. What happened?”