Page 50 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump

I could press the issue. I could scare the truth out of her. For all I know, this is part of some huge ruse to trick or trap me and she’s told her parents everything. Just as my suspicions rise, she turns to me with a small smile.

“Mom wants you to stay for dinner.”

“What?”

“She’s ordering takeout but she wants us to go through the old cards and pick which ones to hang around the wreath on the front door.”

“And she wants me to be a part of that?”

Hollie presses a hot cup of coffee into my hand and nods. “She does.”

With careful balance, she picks up the other three mugs and leaves me in the kitchen in silence.

Confused emotions clash together in my chest. She lied to me but her family are working to include me. Those aren’t the actions of people who know the truth. So what was Hollie really up to, and why is she keeping it a secret?

I stare down at the coffee, mapping out a couple of bubbles that remain floating on the top, and then I slowly walk through to the lounge.

Hollie is perched on the couch laughing over her mother’s shoulder at a card clutched in her hand. Martin is on the couchopposite them with another card, holding it out to Toto, who snorts in amusement.

“I had a dog like that once,” Toto remarks with a grin. “Poor thing outlived all my family and then one day just—” He makes a soft death sound. “She was like ninety.”

“They’re a good breed,” Martin agrees. “I had two when I was a kid. My favorite kind.”

“Look at his face!” Hollie giggles. “God, I wonder what he looks like now?”

“He shaved all his hair off, didn’t you get the newsletter?” Susan swivels around to face her daughter.

“He sends a newsletter?” Hollie gapes at her mother.

“Yes! Every six months. I can’t believe you never got one.”

“I might have thought it was spam.”

The room is warm and full of life. An array of colors gleams from the tree they all worked hard on, glittering streamers hug the ceiling, festive boots and baubles decorate the walls around a jolly Santa, and a full set of reindeer dance around the window. Outside, the tree Martin and I decorated gleams tall in the dusk, slowly disappearing under the snow.

This is family.

I feel like I’m watching through a portal at an advert for everything that makes Christmas joyful, a far cry from the cold rooms, sharp alcohol, and irritable father I’m used to. Suddenly, Hollie stands and grabs my hand. She pulls me into the lounge with a bright smile.

“Come in, silly. You need to pick the card you like the best!”

Before I can protest, she’s shoved me down onto the couch and dumped a shoebox filled with Christmas cards onto my lap.

“It can be for any reason,” Susan explains from nearby on the floor. “Maybe it looks goofy or makes you laugh, or makes you feel wistful. Whichever you like.”

Hollie sits next to me and starts going through the box on my lap. This close, I can smell the eucalyptus she’s been using and it tingles my nose. She’s only this close for appearances’ sake, but I can’t take my eyes off her. With rosy cheeks, a soft smile, and eyes reflecting all the lights from the tree as she offers me a card with a cat on the front dressed up as Santa, my heart skips a beat.

She’s beautiful.

“What about this one?” Hollie asks, completely unaware of my inner turmoil.

“I like it,” I say, unable to take my eyes off her. This day, this evening, this moment… it’s unlike anything I’ve experienced in my life, and yet for this family, it’s normal. This is love. This is warmth.

“You sure?” Hollie’s eyes briefly meet mine and I nod slowly, not once looking at the card.

“Yeah… I think I like it a lot.”

I’m fucked.