Far From Home

“Sounds like my kind of ending.” She took my hand in hers and managed a shy smile. “Though I have to admit, I’m going to get sick of ham once this week is through.”

“Then it’s a good thing New Years is right around the corner.”

“Oh god. More ham?”

“Lasagna, actually.”

Her eyes brightened. “Much better.”

I had to agree. It was odd how families held onto traditions, especially when it came to food. Every holiday, turkey was always made available along with ham, potato salad, pickled beets, mashed potatoes, the works. Though just this once I’d love to have pizza or a nice juicy burger on Christmas. It might not have been traditional, but it sure beat the usual.

“Next year,” Sam began, pulling me from my thoughts,

“we should make our own dish and bring it with us.”

Next year? Would we still be together by then? Would she still be around? My stomach churned as I did whatever I could to hide the worried expression on my face.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, thankful when my voice actually worked.

“Sushi? Lobster? Biscuits?” She shrugged.

“You have some of the strangest tastes I know.”

“Variety,” she said, pointing her fork at me, “is the spice of life.”

“I’ve had variety and it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I prefer the ordinary, quiet Brit I’m sitting next to.” I gave her a pointed look and smiled when she averted her gaze. God, you’re beautiful when you blush.

When she looked at me again, my breath caught. I know that look. Those eyes. She’d given me that same look back at the cabin, and again as we were making our way back to the house.

Oblivious to my thoughts, she cupped my face and crushed my lips with her own, deepening our kiss when I melted in her arms.

“No displays of affection at the dinner table.”

My mother’s voice caused us both to jump and pull apart, but when I looked at her across the room, there was a wide grin on my face.

“I’m glad to see you happy, baby, but rules are rules,” she said, shuffling over to the sink to rinse off one of Brad’s dishes.

I kissed Sam again, which resulted in a concerned look from her and a pitiful one from my mom. She tried her best to look serious, but the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes gave it away.

Sighing, she said, “Don’t let Brad find out. You know how he gets.” With that, she excused herself from the room as a very pale Sam looked back at me.

“Relax,” I said, unable to keep from laughing. “She’s kidding.”

“What about Brad?” she asked as she watched my mother go.

“He’s even better.”

“But your mom—”

“It’s all for show. Believe it or not, it means she likes you.

Think of it as an odd quirk. The only thing we absolutely must not do is sleep in the same bed together.”

“But at the cabin, we—”

“Didn’t sleep together,” I finished for her.

She swallowed hard. “And you’re sure everything’s okay?”