Page 138 of Lessons in Chemistry

When the Christmas break starts, they come to stay with me. I’ve never been so domestic before, but I love every second of it. Casey doesn’t have swimming practice, which means we get to spend lazy mornings together, snuggling in bed. I cook every meal, surprising them with twists on traditional meals like lasagne, toad in the hole, and bangers and mash. Emory cajoles us into daily study sessions, during which we’re all good and get the essays we’ve been set over the holidays written and handed in electronically.

We go swimming with Casey, do the Otley Run dressed asStar Warscharacters, and have film marathon nights, taking turns to be in charge of choosing what we watch. Emory chooses American teen movies, while Casey’s picks are more eclectic, ranging from action to superheroes and a romance film that makes me sniffle a bit. I scare the crap out of them with some of the scariest horror films ever and then have to hold them while they sleep with the lights on. Not that protecting them from nightmares is a hardship.

Honestly, it’s been the best week of my entire life. Not because of what we do but because of who I’m with. I look forward to every second of being with my boyfriends.

It’s the day before Christmas Eve and our last night together before we catch the train to Lancaster to visit their families. I haven’t decided which of them I’m going to stay with and hate that I have to choose.

“I’m nervous,” I say as I watch them wrap presents for their families.

“About meeting our parents?” Emory asks.

“Yes. What if they don’t like me?”

Emory and Casey exchange a glance.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Casey asks.

“I don’t know.” I thread my fingers together. My parents think I’m a loser. Why would their families think any different of me? My boyfriends have their shit together. I do not.

“You’re amazing, and they’ll adore you,” Emory says.

I want to believe him.

Casey abandons his task and sits beside me, wrapping his arms around me. He gives the most amazing hugs. Emory’s are good, but Casey’s are on a whole other level as if he knows instinctively how to hold me to give me optimal comfort. He applies the right amount of pressure with his arms to activate the happy chemicals in my brain. It’s hard not to smile when I’m in his arms.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“Talk to us. We agreed we’d communicate,” Casey says in a soft voice.

“About our relationship,” I remind him.

He stares at me with big brown eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything. I get it. Keeping things bottled up isn’t good for me, which in turn, isn’t good for us.

“I hate this time of year,” I say.

Emory sits on the other side of me and clasps my hand.

“I don’t have many happy Christmas memories. Maybe that’s not entirely true, and it is unfair to my nannies. They always tried to make Christmas wonderful when I was little. But when I went to boarding school, it was easier to pay extra for me to stay there during the holidays than to employ a short-term nanny. Not that I always spent the holidays at school, but I spent more there than I wanted to.” I rub the heel of my hand over my thigh. “Listen to me. A poor little rich boy boo-hooing about getting to run amok in a boarding school with practically no one else there.”

“That’s not what you’re upset about,” Emory says.

True. I’m upset because it always felt like my parents didn’t want me, and maybe that’s the truth, especially now that I haven’t turned into a perfect replica of Dad. Maybe I would have done if either of them had spent more time with me.

“I spent a lot of Christmases without my parents. Not alone, exactly. I wasn’t the only kid who spent Christmas at boarding school. I felt sorry for the staff who had to stay with us. They had to miss out too, all because our families were rich enough not to have to make time for us.”

Casey tightens his grip, which I’m grateful for.

“I don’t think my parents ever wanted me. Not really,” I say in a harsh voice. “They aren’t proud of me. I’m pretty sure they don’t love me. Why should your parents?”

“Because we love you, and they will too,” Casey says.

My eyes prickle. My chest squeezes.

“I’m sorry your dad can’t see how wonderful you are, but we do.” Emory’s voice is wobbly.

“I’m sorry for getting maudlin. This isn’t me. I’m normally the life and soul of the party.”

“You don’t have to pretend with us. In fact, we’d rather you didn’t.”