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When I return, he’s sitting in the same spot on the couch. “Have you called your father yet?” I ask from the kitchen.
“No . . . I was waiting for you,” he replies, then wanders into the kitchen and sits down at the table with a sigh. “I’ll call now.”
I nod and sit across from him while he presses his phone to his ear.
“Uh . . . hey.” Hardin says into the receiver. Then he sets the phone to speaker and places it on the table between us.
“Hardin?” Ken’s voice is surprised.
“Yeah . . . um, look, I was wondering if you wanted to come over or something.”
“Come over?”
Hardin looks up at me, and I can tell that his patience is already wearing thin. My hand moves across the table to rest atop his, and I nod in encouragement.
“Yeah . . . you, Karen, and Landon. We can exchange gifts, since we didn’t yesterday. Mum’s gone,” he says.
“You’re sure that’s okay?” Ken asks his son.
“I just asked, didn’t I?” Hardin says, and I squeeze his hand. “I mean . . . yeah, that’s fine,” he corrects, and I smile at him.
“Okay, well, let me talk to Karen, but I know she’ll be thrilled. What time will be good for you?” Hardin looks at me. I mouth two, and he tells his father.
“Okay . . . well, we’ll see you at two.”
“Tessa will text Landon the address,” Hardin says and hangs up the phone.
“That wasn’t so bad, right?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “Sure.”
“What should I wear?”
He gestures to my jeans and WCU T-shirt. “That.”
“Definitely not. This is our Christmas.”
“No, it’s the day after Christmas, so you should wear jeans.” He smiles, and his fingers tug at his lip ring.
“I’m not wearing jeans.” I laugh and head to the bedroom to decide what to wear.
I’M HOLDING MY WHITE DRESS to my chest in front of the mirror when Hardin walks into the bedroom. “I don’t know if wearing white is the best idea.” He smiles.
“For God’s sake, stop it!” I say.
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
I grab my maroon dress from the closet. This dress holds a lot of memories for me; I wore it to my first frat party with Steph. I miss Steph despite all the anger I feel . . . felt toward her. I feel betrayed by her, but at the same time in a lot of ways she was right when she said it wasn’t fair for me to forgive Hardin but not her.
“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Hardin questions.
“Nothing . . . I was just thinking of Steph.”
“What about her?”
“I don’t know . . . I miss her, sort of. Do you miss your friends?” I ask. He hasn’t mentioned any of them since the letter.
“No.” He shrugs. “I would rather spend my time with you.”
I’m enjoying this honest Hardin, but I note, “You could still spend time with them, too.”
“I guess. I don’t know; I don’t really care either way. Do you even want to be around them . . . you know, after everything?” His eyes focus on the floor.
“I don’t know . . . but I’d be willing to try, at least, and see how it goes. Not Molly, though.” I scowl.
He looks up mischievously. “But the two of you are such great friends.”
“Ugh, enough about her. What do you think they’ll do on New Year’s Eve?” I ask. I don’t know how it will be to be around everyone, but I miss having friends, or what passed for friends.
“There’ll probably be a party. Logan is obsessed with New Year’s . . . Are you sure you want to go out with them?”
I smile. “Yeah . . . if it blows up in my face, then we’ll stay in next year.”
Hardin’s eyes widen when I mention next year, but I pretend I don’t notice. I need our Christmas do-over to be peaceful today. I’m focusing on today.
“I need to make something for everyone to eat. I should have said three; it’s already noon, and I’m not even ready.” I rub my hands over my makeup-free face.
“Go ahead and get ready, I’ll make something . . .” Hardin says, then smirks. “Just make sure you eat only what I put on your plate.”
“Joking about poisoning your father, lovely,” I tease. He shrugs and wanders off. I wash my face and apply light makeup before pulling my hair out of its ponytail and curling the ends. By the time I finish getting ready and get myself dressed, a wonderful garlic smell is coming from the kitchen.
When I join Hardin in the kitchen, I see he’s laid out a couple of trays of fruit and vegetables and already set the table. I’m really impressed by what he’s done, though I do have to fight the urge to rearrange a few things. I’m so glad that Hardin was willing to invite his father over to our apartment, and even more relieved that he seems to be in a really good mood today. Checking the clock, I see our company will be here in thirty minutes, so I begin cleaning up the small mess Hardin made while cooking and get the apartment spotless again.
I wrap my arms around his waist as he stands in front of the oven. “Thank you for doing all of this.”
He shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
“Are you okay?” I ask and unwrap my arms and turn him to face me.
“Yeah . . . I’m fine.”
“Are you sure you aren’t a little nervous?” I ask. I can tell he is.
“No . . . well, just a little. It’s just weird as fuck to have him coming here, you know?”