Hot Cocoa Hearts Page 9

  I stared at the box, fingers trembling. I felt the weight of it in my hands, the weight of what was inside. “It won’t change anything,” I whispered.

  Dad nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t think you’d ever get too old for Christmas. Your mom and I haven’t. Your Grandma never did, either. But I guess …” He sighed. “I guess we were wrong about you.”

  My heart sank as he got out of the car and walked inside, leaving me alone. I blinked fiercely, my eyes stinging with tears I wouldn’t let fall.

  I hadn’t meant to hurt Dad. Couldn’t he even try to understand my point of view?

  I glanced toward the house and, through one of the front windows, caught a glimpse of Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen. My stomach tensed. No way was I going inside with them in the kitchen. I didn’t want to talk anymore tonight.

  I sat back in my seat to wait for them to head upstairs and reached into my bag for the photo of me and Grandma. There she was, her arms snug around me, smiling beautifully. I shoved the jewelry box into my coat pocket. I didn’t want to imagine what Grandma would’ve thought if she’d heard me tonight. I knew the answer. I could feel her disappointment even in her absence, and it stayed with me through the rest of the long, sleepless night that followed.

  I avoided going downstairs as long as possible the next morning, but by ten o’clock, my growling stomach couldn’t hold out anymore. Plus, I knew Mom would be pounding on my door soon enough to get me out of bed to go to work at the mall, so there was no point delaying the inevitable.

  I grabbed my elf outfit, which much to my vexation, Mom had salvaged so not a single trace of my whipped cream battle with Alex remained. Then I headed for the kitchen, where I found Mom with her laptop going through photo proofs. The second her eyes met mine with that “how could you?” glare, my chest tightened, and my lips felt dangerously close to quivering. Ugh!! She was an expert at the guilt trip, no doubt about it.

  “Your plate’s in the microwave,” she said tersely. “Your dad’s getting dressed. He’ll be down in a minute. We have to leave in fifteen minutes to open the Wonderland.”

  I nodded, focusing on the microwave’s buttons to avoid looking at her.

  She snapped her laptop shut, heaving a sigh. “Honestly, Em, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. Your dad’s been sulking around here all morning. How could you say something like that about our house?”

  “I didn’t know he was listening,” I protested, sitting down and pushing my eggs around my plate. “Besides, it’s not the end of the world.”

  “No, you’re right about that.” Mom stood to pour the last bit of her coffee down the drain. “But couldn’t you at least humor him?”

  I threw up my hands. “I was only being honest, Mom. Since when is that a criminal offense?”

  “It’s not,” Dad said, walking into the kitchen in his Santa suspenders, his pillow-stuffed belly protruding lumpily from his white shirt. He gave me a quick peck on the forehead, which I took with relief as a peacemaking gesture. “Of course we want you to have your own opinions, and we’ll do our best to respect them.” He slipped on his giant red coat. “Which is why I’ve decided this will be the last year for the Holly Jolly House.”

  My stomach plunged, and Mom gaped. “What?” she breathed.

  Dad nodded in an attempt to look casually unaffected. Still, the light in his eyes dimmed. “It’s time,” he said simply. “It’s getting to be too much work.” He glanced at my mom. “You know what it does to my back. I threw it out once already, putting all the decorations up.”

  “Dad,” I started. “You don’t have to—”

  “I do.” He cleared his throat, slid on his Santa beard, put on a jolly face, and clapped his hands together. “Time to go, isn’t it? We don’t want to be late!”

  With that, he disappeared into the garage to start the car.

  “Wow,” I said. I used to imagine that if this ever happened, I’d be so relieved. But all I felt was sickening guilt. “Do you think he’s okay?”

  “I don’t know. I’m so used to seeing him light up like a toddler every Christmas. This is completely new to me.” Mom turned toward the sink, shaking her head and staring out the window. “It’s the end of an era,” she said quietly. She glanced at me, bewildered. “It’s silly, but I feel like crying.”

  I didn’t answer, but it was the strangest thing. So did I.

  My guilt only got worse as the day wore on. Dad did his same old Santa routine at the North Pole Wonderland, but when he needed my help with posing kids for photos or printing out receipts, he didn’t make any cheesy Christmas puns, like he usually did, or tug on my elf hat in attempts to get me to smile. He was careful to avoid doing anything I normally would’ve griped about.

  Dad’s stilted politeness became so awkward that when he asked me if I’d walk over to Cocoa Cravings to see if Señor Perez had some hot chocolate trays ready to bring over, I jumped at the chance to escape.

  When I saw Alex wave from behind the counter, I hesitated. I wanted to tell him everything that had happened last night, but I worried about what he’d say when he heard about my dad.

  “Hey, you,” he said when I got to the counter. “Abuelo’s getting some trays ready in the back, but it will be a few minutes. Enough time for you to try this.” He set a cup of hot chocolate on the counter for me. “It’s Licorice Love.”

  “I do love licorice, but with chocolate? I have my doubts.” I took a sip, then shook my head. “Weird combo. Ick.”

  “Abuelo said the same thing. I thought I’d give it a shot anyway.” He dumped the rest into the sink behind the counter, frowning.

  “You’re upset. Great.” I sighed. “I can add your name to the list of people mad at me.”

  “Sorry.” He studied the counter. “It’s not you. I’m just not having a great weekend. Sounds like you didn’t, either?”

  “Well, Sawyer’s concert was great.” Alex nodded, but even as he did, a line appeared between his eyebrows, like he was still irritated. “I took a load of pictures. Want to see?”

  “Actually, maybe another time,” he said, turning away. “I’m pretty busy today—”

  “Funny,” I snorted. “There’s not a customer in sight. Come on! It’ll only take a sec.” I took his silence as agreement and pulled my camera out of my bag, but when I tried the view function, nothing happened. “I can’t believe it.” I rubbed my forehead in frustration. “It’s dead.” I slid it back into my bag. “It’s so time for a new camera. I just hope I don’t lose all those photos. I had some great ones of Sawyer.” I blushed, remembering the thrill I’d gotten being so close to him last night. “He wrote a song for me, and brought me up onstage to sing it to me.”

  Alex rolled his eyes. “A personal serenade?” He fiddled with some knobs on one of the hot chocolate machines. “Of course. What girl wouldn’t fall for that?” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Did you faint away in his arms, too?”

  “No,” I said defensively, staring at him. “Look, I don’t know what you have against Sawyer, but can you not ruin this for me? Please? My day’s off to a rough enough start to begin with.”

  Alex looked at me for a long minute, then nodded. “Fine.” But his tone was tinged with grudging. “So, why’s your day so bad?”

  I grimaced. “There was this completely awkward thing that happened with my dad that I feel horrible about, and Sawyer was there. It wasn’t the way I’d imagined the night ending.”

  “How did you imagine it ending?” Alex asked quietly, his voice edged with irritation. “With Sawyer kissing you?”

  I glared at him, hating his tone. Why did it seem like he was so intent on picking fights today? “No! I don’t know. Maybe.” I bit my lip. “I mean, I would’ve liked it if he had. But obviously you don’t approve, or whatever.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t get it. You never will.”

  I threw up my hands. “Get what? I feel like I’m trying to guess the sphinx’s riddle
here. Just spell it out for me, why don’t you!”

  “Let’s not talk about it anymore, all right?” His jaw tightened, and I could tell he was holding something back. He was angry but trying not to let it show. “Just tell me what happened with your dad.”

  I took a deep breath and told him everything. I was afraid to look at him as I talked, worried that if I did, I’d see the same disappointment I’d seen on my parents’ faces. I didn’t think I could take it from him, too. But when I finished the story, he only nodded sympathetically.

  “That’s pretty awful,” he said. “Especially since there’s no easy way to make it right. You already apologized, so now I guess you wait for it to blow over.”

  “If it ever does,” I said forlornly. “I never meant for my dad to hear me.”

  “I know. Maybe you were trying so hard to impress Sawyer that you said something that wasn’t really true.”

  “Of course it was true!” I blurted. “The Holly Jolly House is embarrassing! I just never planned to say that out loud in front of Dad.” Alex nodded, but his expression was doubtful. “You don’t believe me!”

  “You’re right. I don’t.”

  My mouth dropped open, but he only shrugged. “You’re trying to convince yourself that you’re someone you’re not.”

  “How can you say that?” I slid off the stool and started pacing. “I shouldn’t have told you. I knew that the second I told you, you were going to shift into high-and-mighty mode.” I glared at him. “You’ll never understand me. Not the way Sawyer does.”

  Alex frowned. “Oh, sure. You think Sawyer knows you so well.” His eyes glinted with anger. “Have you even told him the truth?”

  “About how much I hate the holidays? You know I have.”

  He shook his head. “No. Have you told him that you’re working as an elf at the North Pole Wonderland? Or have you conveniently forgotten that part of who you are?”

  “That’s not who I am!” I cried. “That’s what my parents are making me do!”

  “What about your grandma?” he asked quietly. “Have you told him about her?”

  I jerked back. “Why would I?”

  “Because she’s the reason why you still love Christmas,” he said. “Deep down inside, even though you won’t admit it.”

  I swallowed hard, the weight of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours crashing down on me.

  “I don’t have to listen to this.” I turned toward the door. “Honestly, I don’t even know why I ever thought we could get along. We’re too different.”

  “This has nothing to do with our differences,” Alex said. “This has to do with being honest with yourself. About everything. Your grandma, Sawyer, and—” He stopped suddenly, flustered, and I wondered what else he’d been about to say.

  “Forget it,” I said flatly. “I thought we could be friends. But we can’t. Not anymore.”

  The stricken look on his face made me drop my eyes, and instantly, remorse coursed through me. But too much had been said already. So I turned on my heel and walked away without another word.

  When the phone rang later that night and Mom called up the stairs that it was for me, I felt instant relief. It was him, I knew it was. Everything was going to be okay.

  “I’m so glad you called!” I blurted as soon as I put the phone to my ear.

  “I knew you would be,” that familiar, smooth voice responded.

  “Sawyer?” I asked.

  He laughed lightly. “Who else would it be?”

  My heart somersaulted, torn between disappointment and excitement. I was so sure it had been Alex calling. I’d picked up the phone at least a dozen times over the last hour, fingers hovering over the digits ready to dial, wanting to make things right. Then I’d argue myself out of it, telling myself that this was all his doing and he should be the one to apologize to me.

  “Em, are you there?” Sawyer asked.

  I hit my mental “reset” button now, focusing on the fact that Sawyer was on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I’m here!” I said brightly. “How’s your weekend going?”

  “Great, actually. I spent all morning composing. I need a sounding board, and I thought maybe I could sing a few lines for you.”

  I grinned. Sawyer wanted my advice on his music! “Sure! I’d love to hear what you’ve got.”

  “Great.” And without saying another word, he began singing. I lay back on my bed, marveling at the poetry he’d strung together and at the fact that, right now, I was the only person in the whole world that he was performing for.

  “So what do you think?” he asked after a few minutes.

  “Wow,” I breathed. “You’re onto something for sure. I mean, there were a couple lines that were a little clunky, like the ‘lies like the flies buzzing around the cans of calamity.’ But if you smooth them out, then—”

  “Clunky?” He sounded annoyed.

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean ‘clunky’ as in awful. Maybe it needs a tiny bit more work is all.”

  Silence filled the phone, and then finally he said, “I’ll run it by Gabe. He’s got more of an ear and gets what I’m aiming for. It’s tough to understand the themes if you’re not musical.”

  “What?” I stiffened. “I love music—”

  “I know you do,” he interrupted. “Only, you consume it, you don’t create it. That’s a huge difference.”

  I sat up in bed, rankled and wanting to defend myself. “Yeah, but I understand art. I create photos.”

  He laughed. “Not the same thing, Em. Not even close. But, hey, thanks for giving it a listen anyway.”

  “Sure,” I said, spirits sinking.

  “So, how’s your weekend?” he asked.

  “I’ve had better,” I said, then waited for him to ask what was wrong so I could tell him what had happened with my dad and Alex.

  Instead, though, Sawyer mumbled distractedly into the phone, “Great. That’s great. Well, I should probably sign off.” His voice sounded more distant, like maybe he’d set the phone down, and I could hear rustlings of paper in the background like he was packing up his stuff.

  “Oh. Okay.” My voice sounded small and disappointed. This was not the way I’d imagined my first phone call with Sawyer going at all. Sure, the singing had been romantic, at first, but having a more satisfying talk would have been better. “I’ll talk to you later?”

  “Sure thing.” There was a click.

  I flopped against my pillows in frustration. First Dad, then Alex, and now Sawyer. I felt like I was missing the mark with everyone lately.

  The voice came from a distance, and I struggled to pull myself out of my haze to focus.

  “Emmmmm,” it called. “Earth to Em!”

  “Sorry,” I said, blinking an exasperated-looking Nyssa into focus.

  “I was saying, how about this one?” She studied the shelves of nail polish along the wall of the salon, then held up a pastel pink polish. “Flamingo Flambé?”

  I snorted. “I object on principle alone.” I scrutinized the color. “And it’s too bright.”

  “Ugh.” Nyssa jutted out her hip, glaring at me. “You’re absolutely no help at all. I don’t even know why I asked you to meet me here.”

  “That makes two of us,” I quipped. Nyssa’s phone call had come early this morning, and when she’d asked me to meet her at Sassy Nail Salon, I’d nearly choked on my cereal. “So,” I said to her now, “what am I doing here, really?”

  “I told you. I wanted you to help me brainstorm ideas for Sawyer’s last Secret Santa gift.”

  “We could’ve done that over the phone,” I pointed out. In fact, it had just taken us about a minute to decide on Sawyer’s final gift. I’d come up with the brainstorm after the concert on Friday, and Nyssa loved it. She was going to talk to her dad about setting up a private tour for Sawyer at her dad’s recording studio. It would be perfect.

  “Well, I also needed your help picking out a nail color for the glee show tonight,” Nyssa said o
ffhandedly, not wanting to meet my eyes.

  “Nyssa. You want my advice on nail polish?” I raised my eyebrows. “You’re clearly desperate. Come clean. Now.”

  She stomped her foot in this hilariously childish manner. “Fine. I asked you to come with me because none of my other friends would. My parents are leaving for a trip to London in two hours, and Dana and the rest of the glee peeps all made afternoon appointments for their manis.” She shrugged. “I thought it would be fun to have some company.”

  We sat down at a nail station with her color of choice, Beautiful Blush.

  “To be honest,” Nyssa continued as the manicurist filed her nails, “I can’t believe you actually agreed to come with me. I’m glad, but … why did you, anyway?”

  I sighed. “My house is like a minefield of awkwardness right now.”

  “Sounds juicy.” She grinned. “I’m all ears.”

  I laughed, in spite of myself, and then gave her the details of what had happened over the weekend with my dad and then with Alex. When I’d finished talking, she fixed her Barbie-blue eyes on me.

  “I have solutions to all of your problems,” she said matter-of-factly, waving her newly polished nails in the air to dry them.

  I laughed. “These I’ve got to hear.”

  “First, apologize to Alex.”

  “There’s no way I’m apologizing to him.” Yes, I’d had that brief moment of weakness last night when I’d thought it was Alex calling. But Alex’s opinion shouldn’t matter to me. It wouldn’t. “He drives me crazy!” I said. “And if he thinks for one second I’m going to give him the satisfaction of watching me grovel—”

  “But Alex probably has his own reasons for why he’s acting the way he is,” Nyssa said. She glanced toward the ceiling. “Who knows what they are? But … he’s a good guy.” She gave me a pointed look. “Trust me on that.”