Page 15 of Christmas with a Chimera (Claw Haven)

E mma had to give it to him: He was committed to the bit.

She pointed her gingerbread spice latte at a nearby store. “And what’s that?”

“That,” Arthur said after a pause, “is obviously a…craft store.”

She hummed into the plastic lid. “Close! Pottery.”

“Pottery?” He squinted. “Huh. Cute. As I was saying, yet another wonder that is Main Street. And up on these lampposts, we have the ye olde Christmas decorations, which have apparently changed in the last twelve years.”

“Not so old anymore,” Emma agreed, eyeing the green tinsel.

The street was less crowded now, most of the shoppers and holiday-goers having retreated to the inn for the evening.

Emma was grateful. They could walk without bumping into anyone, and only one person had asked Arthur for an autograph so far.

“And here we have the bakery,” Arthur continued, gesturing with his wing. “Now run by one Heath Astarot, who once puked fire after one too many J?gerbombs at my sixteenth birthday party.”

“And burned a hole in the hallway room carpet,” Emma laughed. “I forgot about that! I have to bring that up next time I go in for a muffin.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Arthur said. He grinned at her. Every time he made her laugh, he gave her this look that made it hard to stop smiling. And she was trying . The problem was the more he talked to her, the harder it got to remember why she was trying so damn hard.

It was… fun . He was witty and bright and delightful, and he was so obviously trying to get on her level. Letting her make fun of him, being wrong on purpose so she could correct him. Making her feel at ease.

“And the bookshop,” Arthur announced, pointing with another wing flourish.

“Still run by that old one-winged dragon whose name I can never remember and who once yelled at me for picking up an art book off a tall shelf. And a chocolate shop run by Joshua’s hedgehog cousin!

She seems lovely when she gets past the stuttering. ”

A dragon soared overhead with a whooping human strapped to his belly.

“And, of course, we can’t forget the dragon tours,” Arthur continued, craning his head to watch the dragon swoop down toward the tour offices. “I have to say, I did not expect to run into those guys during my morning fly the first day I was here. That was a fun midair conversation.”

Emma chewed her cheek to stop a smile. She took another sip of the gingerbread spice latte he’d brought her from Creature Comforts at the start of this “tour.” She needed to teach her girls how to do more holiday specials.

Daisy only knew a couple, and these tourists kept coming up with the wildest shit they insisted was all the rage back home.

And she’d be happy if Hazel mastered any drink, let alone a holiday special.

Maybe by this time next year, she’d have a handle on a basic latte.

“And,” Arthur continued, pointing both wings for extra emphasis. “The movie theater, which now shows—”

“More than two movies a year,” Emma finished. “We were very excited when they expanded.”

“I bet.” Arthur stared up at the poster, which showed his own face beaming at him.

It was the comedy Just Kitten Around , which Emma privately thought he wasn’t too proud of.

Every time someone brought it up, it took him that extra moment to smile, like he was bracing himself against an onslaught of embarrassment.

He always got like that over roles he thought he hadn’t done well—mostly plays, back when she knew him.

Once in middle school, she’d congratulated him on being the lead in the Christmas play, and he’d told her that his performance was terrible and that he’d do better next year.

He flexed his wings as if shaking off a thought. Then he turned, taking in Main Street with a surprisingly genuine smile.

“You still can’t get an Uber,” he said. “Or noodles after 8:00 p.m. Or nightlife. Or museums. But it’s a hell of a lot less boring than it was twelve years ago.”

“It was fine back then,” Emma defended, tugging her scarf tighter. “It’s just better now. Except for all the tourists.”

“Aren’t they the only reason your café didn’t go under?”

“Yes,” Emma admitted grudgingly. “But they’re so annoying. And they’re everywhere .”

He shrugged. “Think of them like fans! You’d be nowhere without them. Even if they do sometimes make you want to find a dark corner to hide in.”

“Oh?”

“One of them mailed me a voodoo doll of myself.”

She shuddered.

“I don’t open the fan mail anymore,” he said happily. He started leading her past Main Street, the shops thinning back out into neighborhoods. “So! What are you doing for Christmas? I haven’t seen your parents anywhere.”

“They’re on a cruise. Sailing around the Mediterranean, stopping to sunbathe on beaches. So I’m doing Christmas solo.” She kicked a rock, watching it roll into the snow at the side of the cleared road. “What about yours? Cruise? Ski trip?”

“Norway,” he replied. “And I find it hard to believe you have to be alone . Luna said she invited you up to the inn. Not in the mood for a big wolfy Christmas?”

“Sounds a bit loud for me,” she admitted. “I have a lot of invites, but… I don’t know. Might just stay home and watch movies.”

He hummed. It was a strange hum, considering and soft. She glanced over just in time to see him look away, examining his trimmed claws with great interest.

Emma went cold. Did he think she was sad, being alone on Christmas?

He probably had a party full of people waiting for him when he got back to LA on Christmas morning.

Why didn’t she lie and say she was going to Luna’s?

Or worse , did he think she was angling for him to stay to keep her company? Ugh, that was pathetic.

She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Did you know they took Minotaur’s Mistletoe off every streaming service?”

“Every streaming service,” he repeated after a too-long beat. “No.”

“ Every one,” she confirmed, grabbing an easy frustration and running with it.

“My parents and I had to find DVDs and press Play at the same time like it was 2011! I can’t keep track of what they’re taking off those streaming sites anymore.

I was so excited to curl up with a hot chocolate and virtually watch a Christmas classic with my parents, but could they give us that? No!”

Arthur didn’t reply.

She risked a look over. He was watching her with an expression so soft that he hastily tried to cover it up, averting his gaze to his coffee cup this time.

“Call me crazy,” he said, thumbing the plastic lid. “But I think you miss your parents. Minotaur’s Mistletoe , that’s, what…day six on your pre-Christmas movie list?”

Emma groaned. “Ugh. Of course, you remember that.”

“Hard to forget!” He tugged at his chin fur, humming hard. “Let’s see… A Chimera Christmas Carol. It’s a Wonderful Gargoyle Life. Die Hard Harpy . I always appreciated that. You guys are keeping it going while they’re on the cruise?”

She rolled her eyes. “We watched it over Zoom, okay? Is that too twee for you?”

“No. It’s…sweet.” He cleared his throat, flashing his fangs cheerily. “And how are your folks?”

“They’re the same. And yours?”

“Good. As far as I can tell.” Arthur’s wings drew closer with the slightest twitch. It was a self-soothing technique, which he’d tried to stop himself from doing in high school. Apparently, it still seeped through.

Emma asked, “When did you last see them?”

Arthur paused, genuinely thinking about it. “Five years ago, I think.”

Five years. That was a lot of birthdays, Christmases, and movie launches they’d missed.

“Really? It’s not like you can’t afford flights,” she joked.

“I know. We’re just all so busy.”

Emma frowned. “Didn’t they retire? I thought that was why they moved out of Claw Haven. To retire overseas.”

“Busy retirees.” He scratched his ear, another self-conscious tic he’d tried to ditch in high school.

He’d always avoided talking about his parents.

They were never cruel, as far as Emma knew.

They were just…absent. He’d been politely bewildered by how involved Emma’s parents were in her life, driving her to track meets, making pancakes with her on Sundays, and watching movies after everyone got home.

He was equally bewildered by their initial dislike of him, unable to tell if his affections toward Emma were real or not.

When he kept laying it on thick even after he won them over, she’d assumed he was just sucking up to them.

But it quickly became apparent that he just really liked having parental figures around.

When his parents missed his graduation due to another one of their overseas holidays, Emma’s parents cheered when Arthur’s name was called and paid for his celebration dinner.

They even made him a graduation cake to sit next to Emma’s.

It was the closest any of them had ever come to seeing Arthur cry.

“I was surprised your parents went without you,” Arthur continued.

“They wanted to buy me a ticket. Can you imagine me on a cruise?”

Arthur laughed. “You’d spend most of it in your cabin avoiding everyone. I bet, ah—”

He stopped. They’d just turned the corner, and Emma had a fleeting moment of confusion before she followed his gaze and everything clicked horribly into place.

They were standing in front of the house they had been planning on buying when they were teenagers.

Half the house had a new coat of paint, fresh white that turned into that crusty yellow they both hated halfway around the house.

The porch had a railing now, and the ivy had been torn away.

Emma walked past here all the time, and she’d trained her eyes to avoid this house. It was almost second nature now.

Emma swallowed against a sudden rush of fury. Had he brought her here on purpose, trying to get a response? He looked too shocked for this to be anything but a genuine mistake.