Page 16 of A Curvy Wonderland (A Curvy Girl Christmas #3)

16

ELDAN

I must have tied and retied my tie at least a dozen times, but it still wasn't falling straight between my suit lapels. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I yanked it loose. Tonight had to be perfect.

Even though doubt crept around the edges of my nervous mind reminding me of this fact: Holly still hadn’t RSVP’d.

Maybe all of this was pointless.

I let loose of the two strands of my tie and dropped my hands at my side.

“Need some help?”

In the mirror, I could see my mom coming into the room.

“Let me,” she said.

I turned to face her, trying to hide exactly how much this night had jumbled my emotions. How much I really hoped that it would all work out. She adjusted the tie, not quite meeting my eyes and said, “I'm so proud of you.”

That was the last thing I was expecting to hear. “You are?” I asked, looking up at her in surprise.

Every year, I felt this undercurrent of disappointment at the fact that I couldn't just enjoy Christmas like everyone else. They never said it out loud, but I knew it must be a letdown for my parents, adopting one of the few children who didn’t light up at Christmas traditions. That shame hung over my head like a leaning Christmas tree threatening to topple over under the weight of its adornment.

Mom’s lips lifted slightly as she ran her hand over my tie to smooth out any unevenness. “Of course I’m proud of you,” she said.

A lump formed in my throat, and I had to blink quickly to stop the onslaught of tears wanting to fall.

She took my hand and led me to my bed. Both of us sat on the edge, and she reached out, running her fingers over my hair, brushing a stray strand back in place.

All of a sudden, I felt small again. Just needing her love. Needing her to comfort me from whatever was going on in my life.

She tilted her head, and it felt like she was seeing through me when she said, “You've really grown a lot this holiday.”

I twisted my lips to the side. Sometimes I felt like I had grown, and other times I felt like I was spiraling backwards, acting like a scared child who had lost his mother instead of an eighteen-year-old about to go to college—who had been through years of therapy and knew how to make better choices than the snap reaction I had to Holly.

She smiled at me. “I know you don't believe me, but I've seen you open your heart this year. You've thought about other people, you've been so kind and caring to those little girls, and I've seen how sweet you are with Holly.”

I nodded slowly. It was strange getting to this point, talking to your parents about relationships.

But Mom continued, “If I'm being honest, before this week, I was afraid for you to go away to college. Especially one so far away. “

That got my attention. “You were?”

She nodded. “I know you have your close friends here, but it took a while for you to make them, and you're so closed off to new people. But that's what college is all about—having new experiences and meeting people who will become your friends, your business partners, maybe even your future husband or wife. I was worried you’d go to college and would miss out on all the amazing opportunities around you. I was worried you would be lonely.”

Scrooge’s words from earlier echoed through my mind. Being alone is lonely.

“But something about this week changed you. I can see that you’re ready.” Her lips trembled slightly. “It’s still hard to watch you spread your wings and fly out of the nest.”

I gave her a reassuring hug, comforted by the scent of her warm vanilla perfume. “I'll come back.”

“In the summer, sure,” she said. “I thought it would be fun to make the giving tree a yearly tradition, but it would feel wrong to have someone run it other than you.”

Upon hearing those words, the feeling of wrongness settled in my chest. She was right. “I want to run it, Mom.”

“You do?” Her tone was tinged with disbelief. “I don’t know how you’ll do that from Florida.”

Now that I was eighteen, we all knew this would probably be my last Christmas that I ever had to be in Garland. Except right now, I realized I wouldn’t just miss out on Christmas. I’d miss out on my family. “I wouldn't miss Christmas with you and Dad for anything,” I said, my voice breaking on the last word. They were my family, and they’d never left me.

“Oh, honey,” she said, taking me into her arms and hugging me tight. “I love you so much.”

And I felt her words, I felt her love all the way to my heart. And something about knowing that my parents loved me no matter what, through my grumpy phases or as I grew, it gave me the strength I needed to show up and do my best tonight.

The doorbell rang, echoing all the way through the house to my bedroom.

Mom sat back, wiping at her eyes, and gave me an encouraging smile. “It's time.”