In a Holidaze

And there, at the end of the row, is a tree that is all of those things. “That one.”

Andrew laughs. “Dad will have a stroke if we bring that out to the truck.”

“Actually, no.” I stare at it, grinning, and feel Andrew’s stance match my own. “I don’t think he will.”

chapter fourteen

While Ricky and Dad unload the tree from the car and get it into the stand, and the twins and Lisa dive into the boxes of ornaments to find their favorite ones to hang, I linger at the back of the room, sitting in this weird new energy. Every other year—even this one—I was down there with the kids, diving into the decorations. But if change means telling Andrew how I feel and finally quitting my job, it also means loosening my stranglehold on tradition and letting Kennedy and Zachary take the lead on decorating the tree.

And since we’re barreling into this grown-up thing, change also means helping more, and not leaving it to Aaron or Benny to clean up the cocktail-hour detritus strewn around the living room.

As I gather and carry dishes into the kitchen, I take the time to really look at the cabin. I notice scratches in the floors, wear on the banister from generations of hands sliding over the smooth wooden flourish at the bottom of the stairs. Paint is peeling near the crown molding, and faded on the walls near the front door and down the hallway. Without the lens of nostalgia, I see that this house is well loved, but worn. Those are just the cosmetic things, too. The cabin is old, spending a third of the year in snow and another third in stifling dry heat. It’s going to take more than love and appreciation to help Ricky and Lisa keep this place.

Benny comes up behind me as I’m loading dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “Hey, Mayday.”

“Hey, Benihana.”

“How was the tree farm?” His smile pushes through his accent, curling around the words.

I turn to face him, leaning back against the sink. “It was awesome, actually.”

Benny’s intrigued. “‘Awesome’? I saw that handful of sticks and figured it had to be the last tree.”

“Come on,” I say. “You have to admit it’s hard not to root for the underdog. That poor tree was otherwise destined for the chipper. We saved it.”

Benny concedes this with a little eyebrow quirk, and I look over his shoulder to make sure we’re still alone. “But that wasn’t entirely why the tree farm was awesome.” I pause, biting the tip of my thumb. “I told Andrew about my feelings.”

His eyes go wide. “You did?”

“I mean,” I say, “not like, ‘I want you, Andrew, and if you proposed right now I would say yes without hesitation,’ but we made a joke about me going after what I want this week and I said that I wanted him.”

“Wow.” He steeples his hands and presses them to his lips.

“Oh, and I quit my job.”

At this, Benny takes a surprised step closer. “You what?”

“Yup. I emailed Neda and gave her my thirty days’.”

“Just like that? Just . . . now? While you were out?”

“Yes! And it’s so freeing! What a revelation. I’ll have to look for a new job—but so what? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Benny flinches. “You’re really saying that?”

I pull my shoulders to my ears, bracing as I look around the room to make sure the ceiling isn’t sagging just above my head. “Oops. Okay, that was stupid.”

“But . . . what did Andrew say?” Benny asks. “About your feelings?”

“Not much, actually.” I frown. “It wasn’t exactly awkward, but it wasn’t like he blew out a big relieved breath and told me he’s always felt the same, either.”

My brain seems to be calming incrementally the longer I’m here and not bolting awake on the plane. It’s a relief to let these things out in the open, but embarrassment sends a shiver through me. “Ugh. Actually, now that I think about it, it was a little awkward.”

“Andrew is a laid-back dude,” Benny reminds me. “Hard to rattle.”

True, but . . . “He didn’t say much.”

“He’s an American with an Aussie soul,” he says, laughing. “He tends to chew on things. Doesn’t overreact in the moment.”

I pull out a kitchen chair and sit down at the table. Benny does the same. “Maybe, but even if he never mentions it again, it’s okay.” I give him a resolved nod. “If I’m going to do this vacation over and over, I might as well just put everything out there at least once.”

“You don’t necessarily know that you’re going to do this over and over,” Benny reasons.

I’ve been thinking about this myself. “I’ve almost made it through two whole days.”

He reaches for a high five, but I leave him hanging, before tapping a single finger to the middle of his palm.