“I know. ”
Mia rolled onto her side and looked at Lexi. “I have a secret. About Tyler and me. ” She paused. “We did it. ”
Lexi rolled over to face Mia. “It? You did it?”
Mia’s face was so close Lexi could smell the beer on her breath and the floral scent of her shampoo. Her green eyes were bright. “He said he loved me. I know it’s true now. ”
“Details!” Lexi said, trying to keep her voice a whisper. As she listened to Mia’s story, Lexi couldn’t help thinking about Zach and how much she loved him, and she wished she hadn’t pushed him away now.
“I guess you’re officially the last virgin in our class,” Mia finally said.
Lexi closed her eyes, feeling strangely adrift, as if she’d missed some boat that everyone else was on. What if Zach only said he understood her reluctance? What if someday he just … found someone else to love?
Beside her, Mia started to snore.
Lexi thought about sneaking out of bed and going to Zach’s room. She’d never done that before—she’d promised both Jude and Mia that she wouldn’t do it—and usually it was an easy promise to keep. But tonight, she felt his absence keenly. They had so little time together. It was late December already. No matter what they all said—what they dreamed aloud—they wouldn’t be going to school together. Beginning in September, they would only see one another on breaks. If then.
She closed her eyes and dreamed of Zach, remembering the times on their beach …
“Lexi. LEXI. ”
She came awake with a start.
Zach was peering down at her, his blond hair falling forward. “Come with me. ”
She took his hand. It was just that simple. He pressed a finger to his lips, said sshhh as they tiptoed down the hall toward his room.
She could have stopped him, pulled back as she’d done so many times before, but suddenly all her reasons for holding back felt silly. Whatever he wanted, she wanted. She couldn’t bear the thought that she might lose him. She wanted to be everything to him while she could, so he would keep on loving her.
She followed him up onto his big bed, with its impossibly soft sheets and the airy goose-down pillows. Moonlight spilled through the open window, pooling on the white cotton.
“Here,” he said, handing her a small pink-wrapped box.
“Christmas isn’t for two days. I don’t have your present. ”
“We might not have another chance to be alone,” he said.
Her hands were shaking slightly as she opened the box. Inside, on blue velvet, lay a thin silver band with a tiny sapphire chip.
“It’s a promise ring,” he said solemnly. “The lady at the store said it’s what you give the girl you love. It means I want to marry you someday. ”
Lexi stared down at it, feeling tears start behind her eyes. He did love her. As much as she loved him. When she lifted her gaze, all the love she’d hoarded since childhood was in her eyes. She gave all of it to him, all of herself. “Do you have some condoms?”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he said. “Because if you aren’t—”
“I’m sure,” she whispered, taking off his shirt. “Love me, Zach. That’s what I want. ”
Eight
Jude had very few Christmas memories from her childhood. Here was what she remembered: quiet mornings in the big house on Magnolia Bluff, a fake tree decorated by professionals, a single designer stocking hanging from the mantel. Breakfast had been catered. There had been gift openings, of course—a short, silent affair with Caroline sitting perched on an expensive gilt chair, her foot tapping nervously on the hardwood, while Jude sat cross-legged on the floor. A few solemn thank-yous were passed back and forth, and then the whole ordeal was done. When the last gift was revealed, her mother had practically run for the door.
Once, when her father had been alive, she recalled writing a letter to Santa … but that kind of whimsy had died with her dad.
Jude did things a little differently in her own home. Since motherhood had surprised her with its powerful pull, she’d become a holiday junkie. She decorated from corner to corner, until the entire house looked like a catalog spread. But it was Christmas morning that she really looked forward to, when the family came together, their cheeks creased from sleep, to open presents. In those early morning hours, with her sleepy, grinning children settled around her, she could see the result of her efforts. Her twins would remember these times with fondness.
Now, though, the boxes and papers and bows were put away, and they were at the table, eating their traditional holiday meal—eggs Florentine with fresh fruit and homemade cinnamon rolls.
Last night, in a burst of holiday cheer, snow had come to the Northwest, and the view outs