A Week and a Half Before Christmas

Okay, now, hear me out.

Annie was the one who had typed that, but really, they were Derek’s words. He’d used them often during the six months she’d known him; they usually preceded a recommendation of something she’d never done before, something he thought would be fun. He always said those words with a quiet excitement that was tinged with the slightest hint of trepidation, as if he thought he had to sell her on whatever idea he’d had or she might say no.

Which was absolutely ridiculous to Annie, because right from the start, before they knew little more than each other’s names, his ideas and suggestions had been magnificent.

(That was one of Derek’s words too, by the way. Magnificent. He always said that one with a sort of joyful awe, as if he was taking in some breathtaking scenery.)

The last time he’d asked her to hear him out had been a week ago. They’d gone to see the Christmas tree exhibit at the State Capitol Building (“You drove to Wisconsin just to see Christmas trees?” her sister Jen had asked, her eyebrows raised in disbelief, and Annie had just shrugged, because of course she had). A fierce maelstrom of snow and ice had slammed into Madison just as they were leaving the Capitol, and the twelve-minute drive back to Derek’s neighborhood had turned into an odyssey through a Winter Wonder Hellscape.

She’d been thinking about trying to find a hotel room somewhere so she wouldn’t have to drive home during Snowmageddon, when he’d trotted out his trademark phrase.

“Now, hear me out. It’s a three-bedroom house, and one of those bedrooms is a guest room.”

Annie had agreed to stay that night. Because of the storm, of course.

As usual, she had an amazingly good time, even though she hadn’t brought an overnight bag with her (because who knew?), and even though the power had gone out within half an hour of their return, which meant no furnace, no stove, and worst of all, no coffee maker.

Derek had built a fire in the living room fireplace and fetched every damn blanket he owned from the upstairs. They’d made foil-packet dinners in the fire, just like Boy Scouts on a camping trip, and they’d played Mastermind in the soft, flickering light.

When they finally got tired, Derek bedded down on one side of the sectional sofa, his cat Angus huddled on his chest. Annie had curled up on the other side, cocooned in blankets and absorbed in a book she’d found on Derek’s bookshelf (The Dispossessed, which was fascinating, by the way).

But she hadn’t wanted to waste all the batteries in the flashlight, so she’d eventually turned it off and set the book carefully on the floor.

She lay in the dark, watching Derek’s chest rise and fall under the furry lump of cat.

It was amazingly lucky that she’d met him at all, given that they didn’t even live in the same state. It was a million-to-one shot, really, because if she had cancelled her honeymoon after calling off her wedding, or if he’d chosen a different week to scatter his parents’ ashes off the Hawaiian coast, she would never have known he existed.

They would each have been completely alone, during one of the worst weeks of either of their lives. And they would have missed out on so much fun.

Wrapped in blankets, with the tip of her nose cold from the ever-dropping temperature, Annie had drifted off to the crack and snap from the fireplace, cozy and tranquil and secure.

~*~

 

It was during breakfast the next morning (cold cereal eaten straight from the box in front of the fireplace, because no power) that she’d found out he wasn’t going to visit family for Christmas.

“We had a huge get-together on Thanksgiving,” he shrugged, as if it was no big deal, “so they’re not doing one for Christmas. I’m not really up for holiday traveling again, anyway, and I don’t want to board Angus while I go, because he always comes home pissed off and destructive.”

She’d been about to ask him if he was going to see friends instead, when there was a crash and a yowl from the kitchen, and they had to attend to the mess and chaos that Angus had caused.

Annie spent the entire drive back to Illinois thinking about him being all alone on Christmas. In her whole life, she’d only done it once—in junior high, when she’d had a nasty stomach bug, and her family had gone to Grandma’s without her.

It had been a long, grey, lonely day, sipping ginger ale and trying to watch bad TV, imagining the colored lights and cheerful songs and loud laughter of her aunts and uncles and cousins and pretty much everyone in the world but her. She’d cried more than once that Christmas Day, all alone on the couch with her warm soda and the hard plastic remote control and the bowl she kept on the floor nearby in case of emergency.

It made her so sad, to think Derek might feel that way.

It was then, as she drove on I-39 just past Rock Cut State Park, that she had an idea.

 

~*~

 

Over the last six months, she and Derek had gotten in the habit of emailing each other every couple of days. Sure, they texted each other too, but only about arrangements for getting together, or if there was something short to say.

For actual conversations, they’d gravitated towards email.

In the email she’d just received that night, he had answered her (totally normal, offhanded, non-ulterior motive) question about his plans for Christmas.

“Nothing too exciting. Give Angus attention he doesn’t want. Re-watch ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ and ‘A Christmas Story’. Nap. Order Chinese for dinner. Play Red Dead Redemption. You’re doing the whole family sleepover thing, right?”

In her reply, Annie told him about the Wigilia on Christmas Eve, which her mother always celebrated when it was their turn to play host for the extended family celebration. It was always loud and messy and wild, with lots of wine and sauerkraut and raucous laughter and small shrieking children running amuck.

That was Christmas Eve, though. Christmas Day was going to be more relaxed, just Annie and her immediate family. Still loud and chaotic, but far less so than the night before (and therefore much less intimidating to a newcomer, she hoped).

Annie bit her lip as she considered her Idea, oddly nervous, before beginning her suggestion the same way he always began his.

Okay, now, hear me out.

Then, she took a deep breath and invited him to spend Christmas Day with her and her family.

She worried that he might feel weird about it, or think she was crossing some kind of imaginary boundary, but once she’d hit “send” there was nothing she could do anyway, except wait to find out.

Which she did, until the next morning, as she was making her lunch for work.

She reached for her buzzing phone, leaving a smeary trace of mustard across the screen, and found his answer.

Hey Annie B

Sounds magnificent!

What time should I get there?

 

Christmas Eve

Wigilia was every bit as boisterous as Annie had expected. She snuck off after a few hours, as she usually did, to recharge in the cool, quiet peace of her old bedroom and read for a little while.

She could still hear her family downstairs, the conversations and the laughter and the off-tune renditions of “Holly Jolly Christmas”, and it made her feel warm and safe and very, very fortunate.

None of her siblings understood how lovely it was, to just sit and listen to them all. She had tried to explain, many times, but they still didn’t get it. No one ever had.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Derek had understood exactly what she meant, when she mentioned it to him.

“It’s nice to step back a little, to just look at the people you love and appreciate them,” he’d mused, “instead of being caught up in all the noise and movement and the doing of all the stuff.”

That had been the best explanation she’d ever heard. She had every intention of using that the next time her older brother Mike called her “Annie Anti-social.”

“Ah, there you are!” Pete announced from the doorway. “I knew you’d be up here.”

Annie watched her little brother come into the room and lay on the floor, stretching himself out over the sleeping bags that their nieces would be occupying later that night. “How’s it going down there?”

“Dad and Uncle Bill are yammering on about politics and no one else can get a word in, and Mike is being a dickwad. Shelby and Ella are running wild and taking the other kids with them, so the cousins are giving Dan and Jen the stink eye, which the two of them are on the verge of fighting about. Mom and the aunts are tearing it up in the kitchen as usual, cackling and drinking coffee with Bailey’s.” He laced his hands together behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Fuck, it’s nice up here. Quiet.”

“Mmm hmm. Want a book?”

“Nah.” He shifted his gaze towards her, a smile sneaking across his face. “So this guy that’s coming over tomorrow….”

“Oh, shit,” Annie groaned. “Petey, don’t start….”

“…is he, like, a person of interest?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“He is my friend,” Annie stressed. “My friend. You know I’ve decided not to date anyone until March 1.” (That would be the one-year anniversary of when she broke off her engagement; she’d thought one year was the minimum amount of time she needed to Work On Herself.) “He’s a really good person, and he’s bound to feel a little out of place, so please be nice and welcoming.”

“I promise not to ask him when the wedding is.” He laughed and batted away the pillow she tossed at him. “Relax, Nannie, we’ll all be on our best behavior.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

He reached out a long arm to grab the pillow, then wedged it under this head. “And this is the guy you met in Hawaii on your fake honeymoon.”

“On my alone-y moon.”

“Sorry, on your alone-y moon.” He folded his hands on his chest and looked up at her. “I know Mike likes giving you shit about that, but I thought it was an amazing thing to do.”

“Mike likes giving me shit about everything,” she muttered, which was true.

He continued as if she hadn’t said anything. “I mean, fuck everything, you know? Fuck cancelled weddings, fuck Ted, fuck crying in bed and eating ice cream.”

“I did cry in bed and eat ice cream,” Annie admitted.

“But not for long,” her brother said, shaking his head in admiration. “Swear to God, Nan, you’re a freaking queen.”

“I’m not, really,” she muttered, her face growing hot.

Annie would never understand why he insisted on praising her for a decision that had been based on the combination of heartbreak, fear, willful defiance, and non-refundable travel arrangements.

God, she’d been such a mess.

“How often do you and Derek—that’s his name, right?—how often do you get together?”

Annie considered, as if she wasn’t sure, which she most definitely was. “About once a month, I think. But we talk sometimes, and we email each other.”

“Email?” He furrowed his brow. “Damn, you guys are so old.”

“Oh, shut up.” She threw the other pillow at him. “There’s nothing wrong with email. I like being able to talk about things with him.”

“You don’t do that on the phone?”

“We do. But we’ve got lives, you know, and sometimes it’s hard to schedule. We can read emails and write back whenever we have time.”

“Wow.” Pete stretched and sat up. “Sounds like you’re the best of besties.”

“I don’t know about the best of besties.” Her cheeks were beginning to feel a bit pink. “We like hanging out, that’s all, and he’s very interesting to talk to. I mean, we haven’t even known each other that long.”

“He’s coming here for fucking Christmas, Nannie,” her brother pointed out.

“He doesn’t have any family near him, and he has nothing else to do.” Annie wrapped her arms around the book, holding it tightly in front of her.

“You invited him.”

“Yes, because I didn’t want him to be alone.” Her face felt bright red now, and it annoyed her.

“Oh, so it’s a pity thing,” he teased.

Annie scowled and rose from the bed. “You know what, Pete…,”

He scrambled up. “Annie, I’m sorry, I’m just messing around.”

Annie bit her lip and tossed the book on her bed, then turned back to him. She probably shouldn’t devil him too much, but then again, he’d suggested Derek was someone to be pitied.

That made her mad. So yeah, she was going to devil him a little.

“It is not about pity, not at all. It’s just,” she tilted her chin with a sly smile, “I’ve told him everything about all of you, and I know he’s dying to see if you’re just as…well, if you’re all the same as I describe you.”

“Wait, you talk about us?” Pete looked mildly alarmed, as she knew he would. “What did you say?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” Annie poked him in the chest and headed for the bedroom door.

He trailed after her. “No, seriously, Annie. What did you say?”

 

Christmas Day

“When’s your boyfriend going to get here, Annie Fanny?”

“Don’t call me that,” Annie snapped. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

Mike chuckled. “Okay, fine. When is your friend going to get here?”

Annie glared at him, wishing she could tell her older brother to fuck off. Or, to be more precise, wishing that her telling him to fuck off would actually have any effect.

Besides him laughing and teasing her more, that is.

“I suggested one o’clock.” She turned her back on him and left the kitchen, hoping that his plate of leftover pierogi would keep him from following her.

“You put on a lot of makeup for someone who is just a friend,” he called after her.

“Michael, stop teasing your sister,” her mother admonished, but without much feeling. Which was only to be expected, as she’d been saying it almost non-stop since Annie was born.

“Michael, go jump off a fucking cliff,” Annie muttered.

She hurried up the stairs to check herself in the mirror.

Maybe this is too much makeup.

She had wanted to look a bit nicer than she normally would, for a holiday at home with just the immediate family. They were having company, after all, and company that had never been there before. Her mother had dressed up, and she supposed her father would as well. Jen had done her own hair, as well as doing Shelby’s and Ella’s. Even Mike, as rude as he was being, had made sure to wear his nicest clothes.

So everyone was going a bit above and beyond.

But she had maybe gone a bit too above and beyond.

She glared at herself in the mirror, because she knew full well that she would not have questioned her cosmetic choices if Mike had kept his mouth shut. She would have felt well-put-together, and dressed up, and pretty. She had felt that way, when she’d finished with herself earlier.

Then again, if Mike noticed her wearing a lot of makeup, then so would Derek. Especially since she’d never worn much makeup around him in the first place. For Chrissakes, she’d been wandering around Hawaii with puffy red eyes and no makeup at all when he first met her.

He probably already felt weird enough, coming to hang out on a holiday with a houseful of people he’d never met, without being confronted with a pod person version of Annie.

She sighed and reached for the washcloth.

~*~

 

As Annie came back downstairs again, she noticed that almost everyone had congregated in the living room. She decided to ignore the way Mike was smirking into his beer, even though she could feel the anger flaring up in her chest.

“You guys, please don’t face-jail him,” she appealed. “Let him breathe a little before you rush over to introduce yourselves.”

Murmurs of “of course not” and “we want him to be comfortable” and “don’t worry, Fanny” (don’t call me that) were interrupted by screams from Shelby and Ella, who were hovering by the family room window downstairs.

“Car! There’s a car in the driveway!”

“Hey, he’s punctual,” Annie’s father noted. “He might be okay.”

“Dad, be nice,” Jen warned.

“I’m always nice!”

“Jesus Christ.” Annie spoke quietly, even though she knew she couldn’t be heard outside the house. “Can we not make this a big deal? It’s like me asking Lauren or Jess over for the holidays.”

“Which you’ve never done,” Mike pointed out. Jen kicked him.

Annie’s mother came out of the kitchen, smoothing the front of her apron, as the doorbell rang.

“Mom. I’ve got it.” Annie hurried to the front door. As she gripped the knob, she turned to her family and hissed, “Behave!”

They all stood up as she opened the door.

And there he was, looking slightly uncertain, holding a large paper bag.

Annie smiled her first real smile of the day. “Hi there.”

Derek smiled back, the wide, goofy, dimpled grin that she liked so much. “Hi, Annie B.”

He had dressed up, too. At least, she’d never seen him in such nice clothes before.

And damn, he looked good.

(Which she meant objectively, by the way. He was objectively attractive. She could recognize that. A friend was allowed to recognize another friend was attractive.)

“Come on in.” She moved out of the way to make room for him.

“You look nice,” he complimented as he moved past her.

“Thanks. You too.”

He surveyed the living room, taking in the Christmas tree thick with lights, the family pictures decorating the walls, the shelves full of books.

And the crowd of people clustered nearby, staring at him.

Annie glared at them from behind his back.

“Hi, everyone!” His voice rang out. “I’m Annie’s friend, Derek.”

Annie’s mother came forward. “Derek, welcome to our home. I’m Annie’s mother, Halina. It’s so good to meet you.”

“I’m pleased to meet you,” he responded, grinning again.

“Can I help you with that?”

“This? Oh, yes.” He handed the bag to her and reached into it as Annie’s father approached. “I brought some wine; I hope you like it.” He brought out two bottles, handing them to Annie, murmuring, “One’s a Moscato.”

“Ooh, noice,” she responded, and he chuckled.

“Hey, Derek, I’m Annie’s dad. The Big Kahuna, so to speak. Sean Collins.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kahuna. Derek Milburn.”

Annie knew her father was going to reserve complete judgment, but she could tell by the look on his face that Derek had made a good first impression.

“Oh, sorry,” Derek said, reaching back into the bag to bring out a large tin container with pictures of holly and mistletoe all over it. “Here, I brought cookies too. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, thank you! That’s wonderful!” Annie’s mother exclaimed.

Pete nudged Jen.

“Here, I’ll trade you,” Derek offered, and he took the bag from Annie’s mother, handing her the cookie tin in exchange.

“I’ll take these to the kitchen. Annie, get his coat.”

“Dad.” Annie gestured with the wine, and her father took the bottles and went down to the bar in the family room.

Derek shrugged off one arm of his coat, then switched the bag to his other arm so Annie could pull the coat all the way off.

“The rest of this is yours,” he told her.

“Oh?”

“Cookies of your own. And a Christmas present—not much, I promise, so don’t get freaked out.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” Annie told him, turning to hang up his coat. “I got you one too. Also not much.”

The rest of the family had been slowly inching ever closer to the new arrival, and by the time Annie turned back to him again, he was well and completely face jailed.

“Hi, Derek, I’m Jen. Annie’s sister.”

“Hi, Jen…”

“My husband, Dan.”

“Dan…”

“And these are my daughters…”

Derek handed the bag off to Annie, and she stepped down into the living room and put it under the tree, next to the lone wrapped present labeled with their initials.

“To: DAM From: ABC.”

 

~*~

 

“I’m going to need a little more information,” Derek whispered.

They were alone in the family room, standing at the bar, Annie holding a glass of Moscato and Derek a bottle of some craft beer that Mike had suggested.

Annie leaned in closer, watching the top of the stairs to keep an eye on everyone in the living room. “Mike is the oldest,” she whispered.

He nodded, also keeping an eye on the stairs. “Mike is the beer guy.”

“Yep. Lives in New York, works in finance.”

“What does he do in finance?”

“No idea.”

Derek chuckled.

“He’s kind of an asshole,” she continued, “which I say with love, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But he’d take a bullet for any of us without thinking twice, so he’s not all bad. Next oldest is Jen. She lives in a suburb a little south of here. Works part-time, office manager for a medical practice. Dad wanted her to be a lawyer, but Jen does what Jen wants. Damn good big sister, too. Then me. Then Pete, who is finishing up his mechanical engineering degree at U of I. He’s the baby and he’s awesome. Everyone’s favorite.”

“Mike, Jen, Pete,” he recited. “Beer finance guy, office manager suburban mom, awesome baby senior in mechanical engineering. Think I got it. Man, dinner smells good.”

“I told you it was ham, right? But what you’re smelling right this moment is the chicken wings. The favorite family appetizer for pretty much my entire life. It’s not a holiday without them.”

“The chicken wings you were going on about the day we went to New Glarus?”

She nodded. “The very same.”

“Excellent.” He lifted his bottle to take a sip, but stopped short, his eyes wide with delight. “Oh my God, Bee. Is that you?”

Annie followed his gaze across the room, to a large picture of four children, the youngest of whom seemed on the cusp of adolescence, the oldest clearly college aged.

“Oh, shit.”

“That is you!” He crossed the room to get a closer look. “How old were you?”

“Fourteen.” She reluctantly moved to join him. “An awkward fourteen.”

“No, you were cute! I don’t mean were, as in you’re not anymore,” he added hastily. “You’re still cute. I mean, not cute like this, different cute. This is kid cute. You’re adult cute now. If that makes sense.” He took a long sip of beer, clearing his throat after swallowing.

“Um, it does,” she answered, holding her glass of wine against her cheek. “As much as anything you say makes sense, that is.”

“Oh, ha ha.” He gave her a sarcastic smile and nudged her arm, then leaned in to examine the picture again.

Annie shifted her wine glass to her other cheek.

Derek nodded, his examination complete. “Magnificent,” he pronounced.

They both turned when they heard footsteps thumping down the stairs.

Mike stepped towards the bar, tossing his empty beer bottle into the garbage basket they always used for recycling, and looked over at Annie. “Hey Pudgy! Mom wants you in the kitchen.”

He did not just say that, right here in front of a guest. In front of my friend.

Annie stared at her brother, wide-eyed, unable to even respond with the standard Don’t call me that.

Derek must have looked confused, because Mike spoke directly to him, ignoring Annie. “It’s an old nickname, from when she was, what, ten? She’s not that pudgy anymore.”

Annie blinked hard. Then she set her glass of wine on the bar and headed for the stairs, keeping her head down so they couldn’t see how red she was turning.

“Let me help you,” Derek offered, starting to follow her, but Mike stopped him.

“Nah, dude, you’re the guest. Stay here and relax. We can talk beer!”

“It’s okay, Dee, I got it,” Annie called over her shoulder, hurrying up the stairs before she started crying in frustrated humiliation.

 

~*~

 

It took a good twenty minutes to get the chicken wings ready to be served. It would have been quicker if her hands weren’t shaking so badly.

This was exactly what had happened with Ted. Mike had sat down to talk to Ted the first time Annie had brought him home, and by the end of the night, the two of them had been teasing her together. She’d laughed along with them, not knowing what else to do.

That had set the pattern for how Ted behaved when he was with her family, or more precisely, with her older brother. Which, in turn, had affected how Ted had respected her, or more precisely, the fact that he didn’t.

And she’d let it happen, because she was an idiot. Normally Annie wasn’t one for blaming the victim, but she had to be honest with herself. She had let it happen. Hell, she had even played along. She should have put a stop to it, right then and there.

Annie thought back to last year. She’d spent the earlier part of Christmas Day waiting nervously for Ted to arrive, because she couldn’t relax and have a good time until he was there. When she had to be without him—when she had to be alone—she felt raw and unfinished, too exposed to the world.

Although she’d still been alone, even after he’d arrived. She knew that now. She’d actually been more alone, trailing after him as he greeted everyone in her family, pretending to smile when he laughed every time Mike called her “Pudgy” or “Fanny” or “Annie Antisocial.”

Ted had given her a necklace last Christmas, a gold heart inlaid with sparkly white gems (most likely fake, but they almost looked real so whatever). Her family had oooh’d and awww’d and murmured as he’d fastened it around her neck with a showman’s flourish, and Annie had beamed, acting thrilled and touched.

Which she supposed she was. After all, it was a very pretty necklace, and she was grateful for anything he gave her. But she didn’t wear jewelry, normally, except for her engagement ring. It just wasn’t her thing.

When she thought back on it, Annie didn’t understand why she had convinced herself that she was happy, or how she’d been able to ignore the fact that, apart from the presentation of his gift, he’d paid so little attention to her. It was the holidays, and she was his fiancée, for fuck’s sake.

Actually, that wasn’t true. She did understand.

She’d been so afraid to be alone in the world, so afraid of being unwanted, that she’d figured that the anxious half-life she had, grasping for scraps of Ted’s affection, was better.

It had taken her a long time, after she’d come to her senses and called off the wedding, to be comfortable with the idea of being alone. Truthfully, she still wasn’t completely comfortable with it.

But I will never beg for scraps again.

Annie nodded to herself with righteous determination and picked up the platter of wings.

She was on her way to the family room, nearly at the top of the stairs, when her mother called, “Annie, hold on, I didn’t give you the tongs!”

As she was waiting for her mother, Annie strained to hear whatever conversation Mike and Derek were having.

Derek was speaking, his voice strong and firm enough that Annie’s heart skipped a beat (from nervousness, of course). “I don’t see it that way at all. What I see is someone standing in the absolute ruin of everything she’d ever wanted, but instead of giving up and giving in, she stares all that loss and grief and fear dead in the eyes and says, ‘You know what? Fuck you.’ To me, that is the epitome of courage. That is real strength of character.”

“The whole situation was her choice,” Mike argued. Annie could hardly hear him, he was so quiet.

“There was no choice,” Derek shot back. “None at all. You know that.”

Oh, Lord, they’re going on about Marvel superheroes, Annie thought, as her mother laid the tongs carefully on top of the chicken wings. Mike was obsessed with the Marvel universe, and it was a favorite topic of Derek’s as well (although he and Annie didn’t talk about it much, because it wasn’t her thing).

Whatever they were arguing about, it sounded like Mike was being handed his ass. Which made Annie happy, in a way that also made her feel guilty for being happy about it.

It didn’t matter, though, since Annie was heading down the stairs with a platter of the one thing that always took precedence over any conversation during a Collins family gathering.

Mike turned at the sound of Annie’s footsteps. “Fuck yeah, chicken wings!”

Annie grabbed the tongs before Mike could and set about loading up a paper plate.

“Leave some for everyone else,” her brother complained, opening a new bottle of beer.

“Chill, Mike. Mom’s bringing more down.” Annie handed the plate to Derek, nodding her head at the couch. “Here, this is ours. Take it and go sit over there, I’ll join you in a minute.” She started moving some things around on the bar, to make a space for the other platter.

“Why not just stand here?” Derek asked.

Annie looked up from her arrangements. “Do you remember the first Jurassic Park movie, when they lowered the cow into the velociraptor cage?”

Mike burst into laughter, putting his hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t spit out his mouthful of beer. “That is exactly how it is.”

“Ah,” Derek nodded. “Got it.”

Turns out, Derek moved just in time, because not a second later the little girls stampeded down the staircase, screeching like banshees, followed by Pete and Jen, who were body-checking each other as if they weren’t already grown-ass adults.

Annie held her wine glass high in the air as she made her way through the churning crowd to where Derek sat wincing at the noise level, but laughing nonetheless.

“You okay?” she asked, as she settled in next to him.

“Velociraptors,” he chuckled, flashing her a brilliant, goofy smile. “Just…just perfect.”

 

~*~

 

This was the best Christmas Day that Annie had spent in her whole life.

Once the chicken wings had ushered in the full chaos of a Collins holiday, Annie had begun to relax. (The second glass of Moscato helped a great deal, too.)

At first she stayed by Derek’s side. She wanted to be there in case he got overwhelmed (because he was, after all, an only child and hadn’t grown up in the midst of feral insanity), and she felt it would be rude to leave him on his own with people he didn’t know, since she’d invited him and all.

But mainly—and again, Annie felt like she had to be honest with herself—she was enjoying watching his reactions.

His eyes flickered between people, processing interactions and gleaning history; she could almost see the wheels in his head turning. Sometimes his forehead furrowed with confusion, and she knew he was about to lean over and quietly ask her a question about what or why or how.

And when things happened that he found amusing, he laughed with his whole complete self, throwing his head back and enjoying the moment in a way that was so infectious that Annie almost always laughed right along with him.

He was able to carry on intelligent, involved conversations with every single person in her family, even Shelby, who deluged him with information about the current My Little Pony TV show. He asked thoughtful, serious questions about the ponies and their lives, which the little girl was only too happy to answer.

Ella was the only one who didn’t talk to him—she lurked along the periphery of his presence, staring at him with wide eyes. Well, she did until he looked at her. Then she suddenly became all shy, hiding her face in the couch cushions or the curtains or her mother’s lap.

Annie was pretty sure her niece had a crush on him, because who wouldn’t? (Not that Annie herself did, or would, because he was only her friend, one of her favorite friends for sure but still only a friend).

As the day wore on, Annie became more comfortable with the idea of leaving him to talk to people on his own, which was good because her mom summoned her and Jen to help in the kitchen. She left Derek in animated conversation with Jen’s husband, talking about UW Madison, and dutifully went to attend to her kitchen responsibilities.

Petey was already in the kitchen, lounging against the counter and snacking on a piece of Polish sausage that he held in one hand. Their mother was in the middle of filing an objection to his behavior when Annie entered the room.

“Peter, stop that, you’ll spoil your supper that I’ve been cooking all day.”

“Ma, I’m a growing boy,” he protested.

“At least put it on a plate, with silverware.” She waved him off, distracted by the demands of the side dishes. “Jen, I need you to mash the potatoes. Annie, could you get the rolls set up?”

“Sure thing.”

Annie opened the cabinet drawer, pulled out a couple of clean towels, and began lining the big roll basket.

“Question.” Petey slid along the counter to stand next to her.

“Yes?”

“Why does he call you Bee?”

Annie chuckled as she brought the basket to the kitchen table, where the rolls were cooling on their baking sheet. “Because Annie B. Collins. He started with Annie B, but it takes a lot less energy to just say Bee.”

“Do you have a nickname for him?” he asked, through a mouthful of sausage. Annie decided to ignore his sly tone of voice, in favor of concentrating on the rolls.

“I started with Dam, because that’s what his initials spell, but it sounds too much like I’m swearing all the time so I’ve gone to Dee.”

Jen laughed. “God knows you’d never fucking swear, Nannie.”

Their mother fixed her with a fierce glare. “Jennifer. Language.”

“Why? The kids are downstairs.”

Pete had been staring at Annie, his eyebrows raised comically. “Bee and Dee. Oh my God, that is soooo disgustingly cute.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

She shrugged. “If you say so. Move, I need to get the butter out.”

“It’s over here,” Jen called. When Annie came to fetch it, Jen murmured quietly, “I like Derek.”

“He’s a really great guy,” Annie answered, adding innocently, “and he’s a good friend.”

“He brought cookies, along with the wine,” her sister pointed out.

“I saw.”

Jen stopped mashing. “Home-made cookies, Annie.”

“He likes cooking and baking,” Annie parried, before hurrying away with the butter.

“Delicious home-made cookies.”

“Well, he’s good at baking.” Annie retrieved the good butter dish from the far cabinet.

“I’m just saying,” Jen offered, resuming her aggressive potato mashing.

“She brings a good point to the table, Nan,” Pete agreed.

“Well, you can bring the dishes to the table,” their mother commanded. “And silverware, and napkins. Don’t just stand around yapping, get to work.”

“Oh my God, Mom,” he groaned, but he opened the cabinet to get the plates anyway.

“Can I help at all?” Derek asked, as he entered the kitchen.

Annie nearly dropped the butter.

Shit. Did he hear any of that?

“Wanna set the table for me?” Pete asked, putting on a face of eager excitement.

“Absolutely not, Peter,” their mother declared. “You are our guest, Derek. You should sit down and relax.”

“Rolls are done,” Annie announced, to have something to say.

“I’ll take those to the table for you, Bee.” Derek picked up the basket and the butter dish before Annie’s mother could register a complaint.

As he made his way through the kitchen to the dining room, Annie stopped to take a breath. Between the rapid pace of roll collection, her siblings’ comments, and the thought that Derek might have heard her siblings’ comments, her heart was pounding. She leaned against the kitchen table, looking absently through the arch into the living room.

Mike was pounding up the stairs from the family room, calling over his shoulder, “No, Dad, I can’t. I need to hit the head before dinner.”

God, he sounds like one of my students.

He did. He sounded exactly like a rude, misbehaving teenager.

Annie was in motion before she realized it, acting on an instinct honed by several years of teaching in a high school.

She followed her brother up the stairs, knowing they’d be alone up there. One of the very first things she’d understood about classroom discipline is that it always went better when she and the student stepped outside the room to talk. No audience to play to, no one to be embarrassed in front of.

“Mike!”

He stopped just outside the bathroom door and turned to face her. “Yeah?”

She came to a halt right in front of him, hands on her hips. “You need to stop teasing me.”

“Teasing you? How am I teasing you?” he asked, eyes wide. As if he had no idea what she was talking about.

Her students usually tried that, too.

“You are calling me rude nicknames, for one, despite the fact that I have asked you to stop many, many times throughout our lives.”

“They’re not rude, Annie. They’re terms of affection,” he explained.

No, he didn’t explain. He mansplained, with all the condescension the term implied.

“Really. Annie Fanny and Pudgy are terms of affection.” Her voice didn’t sound as if she was asking a question, because she wasn’t.

“Well…”, he equivocated, “I mean, you’ve never had a problem with them before.”

“Yes, I have. I just said that I have asked you repeatedly, over the period of many years, to stop calling me those names.” Annie’s tone was cool and measured; she knew better than to react emotionally to a student’s disrespect.

He shifted in place. “I didn’t think you meant that. It was part of the whole thing, you know, the sibling thing.”

“But I did mean it. I do mean it.” Annie kept her gaze trained on his face, even as he looked away to figure out what to say next. “The fact that you don’t think I do doesn’t mean I don’t. It just means you’re not listening. I suggest you start listening.”

“So I can’t call you nicknames anymore?” he challenged.

“No, you can. But my nickname is up to me, not you. There are several nicknames I’m okay with,” she responded, ticking them off on one hand. “Annie Banannie, Nannie, Nan, Anna Montana, even Bookworm. You have several possibilities from which to choose. I’m sure you’ll find one that you’re comfortable with.”

“All right,” he bargained. “Tell you what, next time I use Annie Fanny or Pudgy, remind me that you don’t…”

Annie interrupted, shaking her head. “No. There will not be a next time. It is my expectation that you will not use them again. Please let me know if this is at all unclear.”

“No, I got it,” he answered.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

And because she had nothing more to say, Annie turned and walked away from him. She heard the bathroom door close as she descended the stairs.

He would test her limits, of course. That was to be expected. So she would have to hold him accountable for his behavior until he could manage it himself, just like she did with her students.

She knew that, eventually, he would manage it.

When she came back into the kitchen, Derek was leaning against the counter, observing Jen and Pete’s conversation with their mother. Annie went straight to his side, leaning against the counter next to him.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

And she was. In fact, Annie felt more than okay. She felt magnificent.

~*~

 

Annie’s phone vibrated in her lap.

She reached down as unobtrusively as she could manage, to bring up the text.

It was from Derek, who was seated across from her. They had been texting all through dinner, holding a running commentary on everything that was happening at the table.

They’re arguing with each other

They agree with each other

But they’re still arguing about it

He was referring to her father and her older brother and sister, who had gotten onto the subject of politics despite her mother’s best efforts.

Annie tapped out her response.

Yes, they are. This is what they do.

He shook his head slightly, his confusion evident on his face, and looked down into his lap again.

Why though?

There was really no deep philosophical or scientific answer to that question.

Because they can, she tapped out on her phone, and sent it, with a tiny shrug.

He chuckled quietly as he read her message, and they smiled at each other across the table.

A few minutes later, he texted again, brow furrowed in thought.

Your brother is quite possibly the most insecure person I’ve ever met.

Annie didn’t need to ask which brother. After all, she was right there at the table, watching Mike try, at great volume, to argue his point with Jen.

Jen, being always steady and thoughtful, merely tilted her head and calmly pushed back. Which only made him louder, and kind of frantic.

Her phone buzzed again.

Sorry, I’m not trying to knock your family or anything.

She shook her head slightly as she typed out a response.

I know you’re not.

You’re probably right. I’ve never thought about it that way.

And she hadn’t.

Mike had always been her bigger, tougher older brother. He’d protected her from school bullies with just a glare, for fuck’s sake. She’d never thought he’d have any reason to be insecure.

Except there was Jen, owning him without even batting an eyelash every time she opened her mouth. And there was Pete, everybody’s favorite, the sweet sunshine boy of the family. Neither one of them had any problem knocking him off his pedestal.

Annie was the only one who had ever reacted to his teasing. And she’d always reacted badly, by crying or whining.

Oh my God. No wonder, she thought.

She sat, her mouth slightly open, contemplating this new angle of understanding.

Her phone buzzed.

You okay, Bee?

She gave a quietly dry chuckle.

Just re-evaluating my worldview. That’s all.

He sent back a thumbs-up emoji, followed by a smiley face.

She could tell him about it later over email, she knew. And she figured he probably knew she would.

 

~*~

 

Once they’d finished dinner, there had been pie and cookies and coffee. (Derek’s cookies were fabulous, by the way, buttery and nutty and absolutely delicious.)

Now, Annie lay on her back in front of the Christmas tree, staring up at the ceiling as she digested. Derek was over at the fireplace, figuring out how to turn on the gas and get it started.

Everyone else was either upstairs or downstairs; they had the whole, blessedly quiet living room to themselves.

His objective achieved, Derek returned and lowered himself down onto the floor next to her.

“I’ve never had a gas fireplace,” he mused, staring absently up at the ceiling. “It’s definitely a lot cleaner than a wood fireplace, which is a bonus, because it’s really a pain in the ass to clean those things. I mean, I don’t clean out the chimney or anything, I hire someone for that, but you’ve got to get the ashes out every so often. On the other hand, there’s something about the smell of the wood, you know? Especially depending on the type of wood you’re using, it can smell different, which is nice. And burning wood is prettier. More soothing. Well, to me, anyway.”

“Mmm hmm,” Annie answered, indulging herself in a lazy stretch. “When I get a house of my very own, it will definitely have a fireplace. Maybe even two.”

“As many fireplaces as you want. Hey,” he said, nudging her with his elbow. “You should open your present.”

“Okay.” Annie rolled to her side, reaching under the tree to grab the one she’d wrapped earlier. “Here, you open yours, too.”

She held it out behind her so he could take it, then tried to get inside the paper bag he’d brought without sitting up.

He snickered. “What are you doing?”

“I’m too full to sit up.” She scrabbled around the bottom of the bag, trying to wrestle her gift from underneath the cookie tin.

“Need some help there, Bee?”

“No, I got it.” She pulled the bag over on its side so she could dig through it. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“Absolutely.”

Annie rolled onto her stomach, her gift in hand. It was heavy and suspiciously book-shaped.

Derek was sitting on the floor, facing her, with her much-smaller gift in his hand. “Open yours first.”

“No, you.”

“I’m the guest. You have to do what I say.”

She rolled her eyes, and gave in.

As she pulled back the paper, Annie could see that it was, indeed, a book. It wasn’t until she turned it over and saw the front cover that she knew which book.

The Whisperer in the Darkness. Which she’d seen on his bookshelf when she stayed over during the ice storm, and which he’d tried to convince her to read.

Annie burst into peals of laughter.

“Now, hear me out,” Derek started, as she giggled into the carpet. “Lovecraft isn’t for everybody, so you may not like it, and that’s fine. But you at least need to give it a try. How else can you be sure you don’t like it?”

Annie picked up her head, wiping her eyes. “Open yours.”

As soon as he’d gotten the paper off, he burst into torrents of laughter.

“Now, hear me out,” Annie said, somehow managing to speak between giggles. “John Denver isn’t for everybody, so you may not like him, and that’s fine. But you at least need to give him a try, or else how can you be sure you don’t like him?”

This was another debate they’d had—Annie insisting that John Denver was well worth a listen, from a singer-songwriter standpoint alone, and Derek insisting that he could live without ever hearing the man’s music.

No one really got their music from CD’s anymore, but she knew Derek had a CD player in his car. So if he didn’t listen to it on his own, she could ask him to play it for her, and have him listen that way.

Plus, it was a cheeky kind of gift.

Which was probably why he’d gotten her a Lovecraft book.

“Oh, my God, Bee.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “I think we crushed it this year.”

He held up his hand, and Annie stretched over to give him a high-five.

“Oh, you’ve got a fire going,” her father said. Annie startled; she hadn’t heard anyone come upstairs. “What are you two doing on the floor?”

“We’re full,” Annie proclaimed.

Her father turned towards the stairs to the family room, which Annie’s mother was climbing. “They started a fire, Halina.”

“Oh, nice. Why are they on the floor?”

“Your daughter says they’re full.”

“Dinner was spectacular, Mrs. Collins,” Derek praised.

She waved away the formality. “Call me Halina.”

Derek’s phone began emitting a sound like wind chimes.

“What’s that?” Annie asked, although she already knew.

“Alarm,” Derek answered, swiping to turn it off. “I set it to give myself ten minutes to get ready to go, because I knew I wouldn’t be watching the clock.”

“How long is the drive to Madison, again?” Annie’s mother asked.

“Depends on how fast you drive. For me, two, two and a half hours.”

He stood, and held out a hand to help Annie up.

It was the first time she’d ever taken his hand. It was big, and warm, and comfortable. It was a shame that he had to let go, once she was standing.

Because she really liked how it felt.

 

~*~

 

Derek and Annie stood in the driveway; his car door open behind him.

“You’ll text once you’re home, right?”

“Yes, I promise.”

They had this exchange every time they met up. Whoever had been visited would say the first line; whoever was visiting would say the second.

“Well, thank you for having me over, Annie B.”

“I’m glad you could come.” She huddled a bit further into her coat, as a sharp gust of wind blew past them.

“Me too. I mean, this was…well, overwhelming, sometimes, and definitely loud.”

They both chuckled at the truth of that.

“But also funny, and fascinating, and cozy,” he continued. “It was a magnificent Christmas, all in all. Thank you for the CD, by the way.”

“Thank you for the book.”

“So, eagles next month?” he asked, with a bright smile.

That had been Annie’s idea, going to Starved Rock State Park to watch the eagles that congregated there during January. She’d always wanted to do it. Derek had been enthusiastic about the idea as soon as she’d brought it up.

“Yes. I hope you’re still okay to sleep on the sofa bed.”

That had been another idea she’d proposed. In order to get an early start on the day, it made sense for Derek to come down on Friday night and sleep there.

On the sofa bed, of course. That’s what friends do. Sleep on each other’s sofa beds when they spend the night.

“I’ve slept in worse places, believe me. I’ll tell you about that sometime.”

“Good.”

The wind swirled around them again, and Annie shivered.

“I’d better get going, before you freeze out here. Merry Christmas, Annie.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said, right back at him, and they shared a quick goodbye hug (which was still as awkward as it had been the first time, when they’d been saying goodbye in Hawaii, unable to figure out whose arms should go where, or in what direction).

“Be careful driving,” she reminded him, as he climbed into the car.

“I will. Go inside, before you turn into a pillar of ice.”

She wouldn’t go in until she’d waved his car off, which he knew, because that’s what they did. So he closed the door and started up the car, waving to her through the window just before disappearing down the street. When Annie turned to go back into the house, she saw a curtain twitch back into place in one of the upstairs bedrooms.

“I saw that!” she called out, even though she knew they couldn’t hear her.

Then she headed back into the house, to get the evaluation and interrogation over with.

 

~*~

 

A couple of hours later, Annie was curled up in bed with her new book, while her nieces slept peacefully in their sleeping bags on the floor.

When she’d returned to the house, everyone had been waiting for her in the living room (well, except Dan, who was upstairs giving his daughters their bath).

Her father was the one who spoke first. “So, you laugh a lot with this guy, don’t you?”

Annie confirmed that she did.

And then, everyone began talking at once. They had all liked Derek, and they all expressed a wish to see him again someday. Annie couldn’t promise anything, but she thought it might be possible.

“Seriously, Nan,” Mike said, and he indeed looked like he was serious. “He’s a good one. You should lock that shit down, ASAP.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t intend to lock down any shit for at least two more months.”

Their mother shook her head, muttering something about language.

“Oh, please, Ma,” Petey responded. “You’ve been married to Dad for decades, and you’re worried about language.”

“Hey,” their father objected. “You know?”

That was usually as far as their father ever got, when he reprimanded them for being sassy. Now that they were adults, anyway.

“I’m just saying,” Mike continued, “you were making googly eyes at each other all night, eating wings off the same plate, texting under the table…,”

Annie smiled. “You know what, Mike?”

“What?”

“Fuck you,” she replied pleasantly.

He burst out laughing, as their mother remonstrated, “Anne Beverly!”

Annie could tell that her siblings had a great deal more to say on the subject of whether she should “lock that shit down”, but she excused herself before that particular boulder could get rolling, claiming exhaustion (which, to be fair, she was pretty tired).

She’d washed her face, and brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed while Jen read the girls a bedtime story. They’d fallen asleep in the light of her bedside lamp, while she lost herself in Lovecraftian splendor. (He’d slipped a bookmark with bees on it inside the book, too, which was adorable, by the way.)

When her phone vibrated, she picked it up immediately.

Just so you know, I opened the CD when I stopped to get gas.

I played it on the drive home.

I can promise you, I will never like “Thank God I’m A Country Boy.”

There’s a difference between simple life and simpleton.

But we can discuss that later.

The upshot is, I liked it.

You were right.

“Yessss,” Annie crowed quietly, before she tapped her return message out.

I’ve been reading the book for the last couple of hours.

You were right too.

She put her phone back on her bedside table and set her book carefully next to it.

Then she snuggled down into her blankets and drifted off to sleep.

This Christmas had been utterly magnificent.