Page 14 of Christmas with a Chimera (Claw Haven)
He stopped, mortified. What was he doing, airing his personal shit to Joshua Haberdash?
He barely knew the guy. He could practically hear his parents’ voices.
His mother saying, Don’t burden other people with your worries, dear.
It’s unseemly. And his father, telling him to cut it out.
They never shouted, never raged. But their tones would get stiff and uncomfortable, both of them averting their eyes whenever he dared to get upset or voice an emotion that they didn’t want to deal with.
Which was most of them. Arthur had learned very early on that if he wanted people to be happy with him—which was of utmost importance—he had to stuff any negative emotion behind a smiling mask.
Luckily for him, he was good at it. Most of the time he forgot those emotions were there, and if he couldn’t, he had a very convincing smile.
He pulled it up, ready to change the subject. But Joshua—the soft touch that he was—was already speaking.
“I tried to make people like me,” he admitted. “When I was a kid. It only made them tease me more. They knew what I was doing.”
“Should’ve gotten better at acting.”
Joshua chuckled. “We can’t all be charming, I guess. Anyway, it took me a while to realize that worthwhile people will like you for you. You don’t have to be something you’re not. And if other people don’t like it, who cares? As long as you have your people. And as long as you like you. Right?”
He tugged anxiously on the lank hair hanging over his eyes. Arthur had to give it to him—it was a pretty decent speech up until that weak ending.
“Sure,” he said. “I just…”
He stopped. He couldn’t think of anything to say except the ugly truth: He had never liked himself more than when he was with her.
No, that was a lie. She made him uncomfortable sometimes, made him squirmy and shaky and embarrassed.
He’d never felt as complete as he did with her after all the shaking and embarrassment was over.
Once upon a time, he’d really believed she made him better .
Made him real . She saw him, even when he tried to hide.
Nobody had really seen him since.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Apology flowers. I’d ask if you have wisteria—”
“We don’t have that, sorry.”
“No, I know,” Arthur said hastily. “Trust me, that’s…that’s good.”
He swallowed, forcing himself not to think of wraparound porches and deck chairs he once thought he’d grow old on.
“Anyway,” he said, forcing a smile. “What do you suggest?”
* * *
He knocked on Emma’s door twenty minutes later, easing his grip on the bouquet he was holding. He kept bending the stems, the tissue paper crackling in his fist.
His heart lurched as he heard Emma’s voice. He smoothed his mane, pulling up what he hoped was a relaxed smile.
“—don’t know,” Emma said as her voice came closer. “One second, I’m there.”
The door opened. Emma froze. She had her phone to her ear. She was wearing a baggy pair of sweatpants and an even baggier Christmas sweater, more ugly than the first one. There was a smudge of Cool Whip on her cheek that Arthur itched to lick off.
He forced the impulse away. They were going to talk this time. Really sort things out.
“Hi,” Arthur said. He lifted the white tulips Joshua had given him. “These are for you. I was wondering if you’d be interested in a tour?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not—”
“I’ll be the guide,” he said hastily.
Emma’s eyes narrowed farther. Arthur could feel himself sweating. Standing here under Emma’s keen gaze was somehow more taxing than all the flying he’d done today.
Emma put the phone back toward her mouth. “Never mind, Daisy. Gotta go.” She shoved her phone into her sweatpants pocket. “ You want to take me on a tour?”
“Yes! I’m a little out of date, but I’m a fast learner.” The tissue paper crinkled in his grip. He forced his fingers to loosen, hoping she didn’t notice. “Look. I’m…sorry. We didn’t get much of a chance to talk…before.”
“Didn’t we? Mr. Let-me-show-you-what-you-need?”
“ You kissed me ,” he reminded her. Then, when she started to roll her eyes, he said, “No, that doesn’t matter. I wanted to tell you I—I missed you. And maybe you’re right, maybe we shouldn’t have…”
He stopped. He didn’t regret it. But it was obvious she did, standing there all stiff, her arms crossed tight over that Christmas sweater that was so awful it came back around to being cute.
He braced himself. She wanted him to drop his mask, so he was going to try.
“I want us to get along,” he admitted in a rush. “To be civil, at least.”
Her jaw clenched. For a moment, he thought he’d screwed it up. That he should’ve laid the blame on himself a little harder, really played the martyr.
The door slammed shut.
Arthur swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He hadn’t realized how badly he wanted her to say yes until right now. How much he cared what she thought of him. He’d been torn apart those first few months in LA, constantly agonizing over a phone number he never let himself dial.
He turned, tail drooping between his legs. He gave it an annoyed flick, holding it up in the neutral position he’d trained it into. He’d been so good about not reacting with his tail; why was it acting up so much since he got back to Claw Haven?
The door swung open.
Arthur whipped back around, ears pricking up. Emma stepped out onto the ramp, stuffing her feet into a pair of weathered boots, a scarf dangling haphazardly around her neck.
“Fine,” she said. “But I’m driving.”