Page 21 of Christmas with a Chimera (Claw Haven)

E mma avoided the café during the last day of the shoot.

In her defense, she had shit to organize.

Social media posts to queue up for the Instagram account Luna had insisted she start, which would tell everyone that normal business hours would resume the day after Christmas.

Last-minute presents to buy for her employees.

A tree to put up. And most importantly, a wrap party to emotionally prepare for.

Luna called her as she was wrapping presents. “Hey, Em! You still coming? Everything’s all set up at the inn, and it’s party time! Christmas Eve party and wrap party all in one!”

Emma propped the phone up on a roll of wrapping paper and went back to badly wrapping a mug she’d gotten for Hazel.

“I’ll be late,” she warned. “I have a call with my parents, and we’re putting up a tree.”

Luna cooed. “Aw! Cute! We love a family call at Christmas. How are you feeling?”

Emma bit her cheek. Her knee-jerk response was to change the subject. But she was earnestly trying this whole opening up crap, and Luna had been good about it. Hadn’t made fun of her once.

“I’ve been better,” Emma said warily. “I’m getting a punching bag. Late Christmas present to myself. It’ll be here by New Year’s.”

“Yay!” Luna said. “I’m so proud of you. It’s hard telling people what’s really going on. God knows I suck at it! Anyway, see you at the party. I’ll save you some eggnog.”

Emma barely had time to hang up before a video call came in.

Her parents’ faces flickered into view, both of them leaning in so close to the screen she could see their pores. They looked exhausted but happy, and Emma’s heart clenched.

“Hi,” they chorused as one.

Emma waved. “Hey! One second, I have this one last thing to wrap.”

She eased another raggedy piece of wrapping paper over the mug. It was shoddily done, but she doubted Hazel would mind. She placed it to the side and shuffled over to the plastic Christmas tree they’d bought her when she first moved out.

“Okay,” she said, slapping the box of decorations she’d dragged out from the garage. “Ready. Where’s yours?”

Glen held up a tiny plastic tree they must’ve bought at a gift shop the last time they docked. It was barely the size of his forearm.

“We had trouble finding decorations small enough,” Bitsey explained. “But we have some!”

There was a pause as they both arranged their cameras in front of their trees.

Emma strung tinsel around her tree, grinning as she listened to her parents squabble over the proper way to hang a car air freshener on their minuscule tree.

Apparently, the air freshener was one of the only decorations they could find that was small enough, as well as a Santa head bauble, a mini candy cane, and pipe cleaners instead of tinsel.

“I love it,” Bitsey declared. “I think this might be our best tree ever.”

Emma laughed. “Hello?”

“Yours is okay, I guess,” Bitsey amended, leaning into the frame to see it. “Oh, that’s lovely. Glen, look, she put up that one she made in grade school. I thought you’d thrown it out.”

“I thought about it,” Emma said. “But… I don’t know. Seemed like the time to bring it back out. Been thinking a lot about the past recently.”

Bitsey traded a look with Glen, who abruptly appeared in the frame.

“We were just talking about that last Christmas we spent together,” Glen admitted. “Us and Arthur, I mean. We’d just finished the tree, then Arthur took you on a walk. Then you came back and he was gone.”

Emma gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to do this right before she had to go to the party and see him schmoozing with his costar who he may or may not be dating.

Especially if he was going to try to talk to her again, all sad and vulnerable like last time.

Of course, he’d finally let his mask drop when it was too late.

“We were so surprised,” Glen continued. “We really thought you two kids were going to last.”

Emma cut him off. “Yeah, can we not talk about that? Bit of a buzzkill.”

“Oh.” Glen paused. “Sorry. You made all that noise about talking more about, um, your feelings—”

“But we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to,” Bitsey said, fixing Glen with another pointed look. She readjusted the phone, the camera swinging to the cabin carpet and the ceiling before focusing again on their faces.

“Great,” Emma said, shoulders sagging. “So, how are things on the boat?”

“He did call me a few years ago,” Bitsey added. “Asked how you were doing.”

Glen gave her a look that clearly meant, why am I not allowed to talk about it, but you are? But he didn’t look surprised. How long had they been sitting on this?

Emma swallowed. “What do you mean? He never called.”

“He did,” Bitsey said. “This was New Year’s morning… What was it, five years back?”

“Four,” Glen corrected.

“Four or five,” Bitsey said. “He was very drunk. He said he was dating a lot, and that they were fun, but you were the only real thing in his life. The only person who really loved him.”

“ Why —” Emma forced her voice to lower. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He begged us not to. And then when we did try to tell you, you yelled at us.”

Emma grimaced. “Yeah, that—that sounds like me.”

She sat down on the carpet, mind reeling. Four or five years ago. She’d had no idea. She thought about his desperate expression the last time he came to her house, his wing stopping the door from closing.

Please , he’d said, voice rawer than she’d ever heard it. I need — please. We were everything.

“He said he missed us, too,” Bitsey continued. “Me and your father. It was very sweet. He even started crying.”

Emma laughed shakily. “Are you sure? He never cries. I’m surprised he can squeeze out a tear for a movie.”

“Well, he did.” Bitsey reached out of the screen, coming back with the tiny Christmas tree and holding it between her and Glen. “Anyway, how are you doing? Are you going to that party?”

Emma swallowed. She couldn’t stop imagining Arthur in an empty mansion on New Year’s morning, maybe slumped in a bathtub, maybe on a bed, tears rolling into his fur.

Why the hell didn’t he call her ? Would she have picked up?

She liked to think she would, even just to yell at him for daring to do it.

“Emma?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, voice only wavering a little bit. “I’m—I’m gonna go.”

“Oh, good,” Glen said. Then, after yet another pointed look from Bitsey, “And how are you feeling about that?”

“Fine,” Emma said. Then she sighed. “I mean, not fine. But I’m not dreading it. I just need to get through tonight.”

One more night with this strange new version of Arthur at arm’s reach. Then he’d go back to his life, and she’d go back to hers. And neither of them was going to do anything stupid to jeopardize that.

* * *

Luna emerged through the crowded common room with a warm mug of eggnog. It was topped with melting whipped cream and chocolate flakes.

She pushed it into Emma’s hands and leaned in to yell over the din. “Told you I’d save you some! Are you a hugger yet?”

Emma held the mug in front of her like a shield. “I said I was being more open. I didn’t say I was turning into a hugger. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Fine by me,” Luna said, flicking her blond hair over her shoulder and almost hitting a human Emma recognized as part of the camera crew.

There was a bunch of the crew scattered around, mostly keeping to their groups while all the extras stood in their own clumps.

The extras hadn’t originally been invited, but apparently, Luna had pulled some strings.

Luna gave her a friendly shoulder pat instead. “You’re coming to dinner tomorrow, right? We’d love to have you.”

Emma pictured a table full of the Musgrove family, with all their yelling and laughing and teasing. It sounded nice, if a little overwhelming.

“I’m not great with big groups,” she admitted. “But I’ll definitely drop by. Thanks again for the invite.”

“Of course!” Luna twisted to look through the crowd. “I’m going to go see my husband. The nephews talked him into a contest to see who he could throw the farthest, and I have bets to cash in on. You’ll be okay if I dash off?”

Emma nodded, clutching her eggnog and reminding herself that she only had to stay for ten minutes. If she still wasn’t feeling it, she could go home. Out of this damn crowd and away from the danger zone of possibly running into Arthur.

“Toodles!” Luna started weaving through the crowd.

Emma sipped her eggnog and almost choked. The sweetness was almost completely overpowered by the liquor.

“Pretty intense,” said a voice next to her.

Emma turned. Daisy was squeezing between the makeup artists to stand at her side, tugging Hazel behind her.

“I couldn’t finish mine,” Daisy continued, ears twitching like they sometimes did when she was stuck somewhere very loud. “If I wanted something that strong, I’d drink shots. Hazel’s loving it, though.”

Hazel let out a whoop. She was swaying to the music, her elbows and hips knocking into anyone unfortunate enough to be standing close, which happened to include Daisy and Emma.

“Oops,” Hazel said, lowering her arms. “Sorry, boss. And Daisy.”

She took another slug from her eggnog, which was almost gone. Almost being the key word as it slipped from Hazel’s clumsy grip and clattered to the carpet, spilling over all their shoes.

“Oops,” Hazel repeated, dropping to her knees. She grabbed at the whipped cream, grimacing as it smeared over her fingers. “Crap!”

“Daisy,” Emma began.

“Already on it,” Daisy said, pushing through the party toward the kitchen for cleanup fodder.

Emma examined her boots, now stained with snow and eggnog. That old irritation flared up again, mixing with the stress of tonight and not enough alcohol. It was obvious enough to show on her face because Hazel only looked more nervous when she glanced up.

“I got it,” she said unconvincingly, dabbing uselessly at Emma’s boots and smearing whipped cream into the leather. “Crap. I’m so sorry.”