by Lisa Lace
“Can I come in?”
“Of course.” She steps back, and I cross the threshold. Melissa seems to be alone. She’s wearing a pair of pink lounge pants and a grey sweater. “What’s up?”
I sit down on her sofa and pat the seat beside me. She sinks down at my side, and I twist to face her.
“I wanted to talk to you again about England. I’m hoping I can still convince you to come home with me for Christmas.”
Melissa’s face creases uneasily, and she bites down on her lip. “Henry,” she says, “I can’t go.”
“Hear me out,” I say. “I know you have responsibilities here with work, study, and Connor. I know you need to think about money. I did listen to what you said, but I can’t stop thinking about what a great time we could have together.
“Thanksgiving was amazing. You made it such a great day, and I want the chance to do the same for you. There’s so much to see in England. I want to show you Cambridge and London. I want to go through all the stupid traditions like we did with the shoeboxes. I want to eat a huge roast dinner, then kiss you under the mistletoe. I want to make you listen to Jingle Bell Rock on repeat. All that stupid stuff. I want to do it with you.”
I pass the envelope I’ve brought with me to Melissa. “I know there was a lot of ‘I want’ in that sentence, but you should do whatever you want to do. This is a ticket to England. If you want to come, you don’t have to worry about the expense. If you choose to stay, I’ll understand. I just wanted you to feel you had a real choice and to know how much I’d love to spend Christmas with you.”
Melissa bows her head. “This is really sweet, Henry, but—”
“—it’s complicated.” I offer her an understanding smile. “That’s okay, Lissy. No pressure. The offer will stand until the plane takes off. Think about it. I’ll understand either way.”
Melissa
I keep glancing up at the clock as it reaches closer and closer to noon. I know Henry’s flight leaves at two p.m.; then I’ll have ten long days without him. The thought is almost unbearable. Since Henry came into my life, I’ve felt like I have an ally. Without him, I’m completely alone.
I spend the morning both holding back tears and wrapping presents. I wrap the new T-shirts and CDs I got for Connor in snowflake paper, then pick up the gift I got for Henry and carefully fold the paper around it. I’m saving it for when he gets back.
By the time the presents are wrapped, it’s just after eleven. I take out my laptop from its case and open it on my lap, sitting on the sofa. I open up the virtual classroom and study. My heart’s not in it. I’m devastated that I can’t go with Henry.
Imagine a life where you could run away on a Christmas adventure with the man of your dreams.
I wonder what life would have been like if Mom was still here. Would she have liked Henry? I feel a surge of warmth inside. I know she would.
I take a deep breath and focus my eyes on my screen. Henry will only be gone for ten days. I try to think about how wonderful it will be when he returns, rather than thinking about how lonely it will be here without him.
I look over to the kitchen drawer where my plane ticket sits. It would be so easy to pick it up, run to Henry, and disappear with him until New Year’s.
Instead, I stay and study.
That is until Connor comes home from wherever he’s been.
He storms in without a word to me until he looks in the fridge, then slams the door shut with a snarl. “There’s never anything to eat in this place.”
I turn back over my shoulder and watch him furiously open and slam cupboard doors. I turn back to my screen, saying nothing.
Connor continues to growl. “Milk, bread, and apples. What am I supposed to do with that, huh? Maybe you’re feasting like a queen with your little lover boy, but what about me? Where’s my lobster and caviar?”
I try to keep my voice steady as I reply, even though it’s hard to hold back the anger I feel. “I gave you twenty yesterday. What did you spend it on?”
Connor avoids my question. “I don’t want any of this shit. Ramen? What are we?”
“We’re one student and one nineteen-year-old man who still expects someone else to buy his groceries.”
He scowls. “I don’t like you since you’ve been dating that British guy.”
“And I don’t like you since you started doing drugs.”
Connor glares at me. I have to fight back the urge to shrink back under his hateful stare. If looks could kill.
“We’re out of body wash, too. And did you cancel the Netflix?”
I take a deep, patient breath. “Yes, I did. I wasn’t using it, and I can’t afford all these unnecessary expenses.”
“What am I supposed to do with myself all day while you’re screwing around?”
“Look for work, Connor. When you’re paying your own way, you can have all the Netflix and body wash you want. You can have body wash coming out your ears.”
“You’re a bitch. You know that?”
I grip the edges of my laptop so tightly, the plastic leaves grooves in my hands. “You can’t keep talking to me like this.”
“I can talk to you however I want. No matter what you might think, you’re not my mother.”
I stand up, slamming my laptop closed and holding it under my arm. “No. You’re right. I’m not. I’m not your mom, I’m your sister. I’m six years older than you—that’s all. You’re either too selfish or too immature to realize that it’s not easy trying to give you everything Mom could have given you. You don’t even appreciate that I try. All this talk about how I treat you like you’re nothing. How do you treat me? Like an ATM. Like a maid. I’ve had enough, Connor.
“I’ve been invited to spend Christmas with Henry. I was going to stay here with you, but now I’ve changed my mind. I’ll leave a hundred dollars for you on the counter. That should see you through until I get back after the holidays. If you want body wash, by all means, go to the store and get some.”
I storm into my room, then close the door behind me and sink down onto the edge of my bed. My heart is beating at a hundred miles an hour. My ears are hot with rushing blood and adrenalin. I don’t know what’s come over me in recent weeks—but I’m at breaking point with Connor.
Pulling my suitcase out from under my bed, I lay it open on top of my mattress, then throw open my closet doors. I have no idea what I’ll need for a trip to England, so I pack a bit of everything—jeans, pants, T-shirts, blouses, day dresses, formal dresses, a skirt, a coat, gloves, underwear, a scarf, and my laptop. I pick up Henry’s present and lay it on top of everything else, then dig out my passport from my nightstand.
Once my luggage is packed, I sit down on the edge of my bed and call Henry. When he answers, I can hear the note of hope in his voice. “Melissa? Everything okay?”
“Hi, Henry. Everything’s fine. Have you left for the airport yet?”
“I’m just about to go. Why?”
“Am I still invited?”
There’s a pause on the end of the line. I can picture Henry grinning. “Of course. You’re in?”
“Yes.”
“Can you be ready in ten?”
“I’m all packed.”
“Then I’ll be right there.”
“I’ll see you in a second.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Bye.”
I hang up, and my anger turns into an excited buzz. I’m going to England with Henry.
I collect my case and purse, pulling out all the bills I have inside and leaving them on the kitchen counter. Then I head to the apartment door. I turn back to Connor as I stand in the doorway. “I’ll be back in ten days. If you need anything, call me.”
Connor doesn’t reply. He doesn’t make eye contact. He grunts, and pointedly rotates his body away from me.
I clench my jaw but stand firm. “I’ll call you on Christmas. I left your presents under the tree. I love you.”
When he doesn’t reply, it hurts, but I’m used to i
t. Connor always punishes me by withholding his love. I’ve learned to trust that he loves me anyway, even if on the surface, he treats me like an enemy.
I try reaching out one more time. “I miss you, Connor. I miss the guy you used to be—you were so sweet, so kind. One day, I hope we’ll get to spend Christmas together again like we used to. Right now, all this hostility and fighting is too much for me. I need to get away. I need to find some happiness among all this hard work and grief.
“Take care of yourself while I’m gone. When I get back, maybe we can have a long heart-to-heart about where we go from here. I want you to be happy, Connor. I want both of us to be happy.”
Connor ignores me.
I pick up my suitcase once more, open the door, and leave the apartment without looking back. My eyes sting with tears over the fact I’m leaving Connor again, but I know that Christmas with him would be miserable for us both.
It doesn’t matter. You’re his sister.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to stop my thoughts from fighting each other inside my head. My mind is made up. After years of sacrificing every relationship and personal interest to make sure I had the means to support Connor, to make sure I was available in case he needed me, I crave some relief from the pressure.
Moments after I make it to the sidewalk outside the apartment building, Henry arrives in an Uber. He steps out of the car and hugs me tightly before opening the trunk and taking my suitcase from me to set it inside.
He’s grinning from ear-to-ear. His face is bright with excitement. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” he says. “I was holding out hope you would.”
“It was a spur of the moment decision.”
“Then you better get in the car before you change it back.”
Henry holds the door open for me, and I step inside. He gets in beside me, and the driver sets off.
“What made you change your mind?” Henry asks.
“I had another argument with Connor.”
Henry frowns. “It must have been bad.”
“It wasn’t the worst we’ve ever had. I guess I’ve reached the breaking point with Connor. I need some time away. I’m running out of strength to keep dealing with him. Honestly, he scares me sometimes. His temper is getting worse every day. A break is just what I need. Then, when I come back, I’ll be ready for a real change.”
“Maybe some time apart will do you good. When was the last time Connor was alone for any length of time? It wouldn’t hurt for him to realize he’s taking you for granted. Maybe this will do the trick.”
I sit back against the patterned fabric and close my eyes. Now that Henry is with me, I feel more at peace with my decision. I hear his seatbelt unclicking, then he slides across the seat to put his arm around me.
“I can’t wait to show you England. Cambridge is beautiful this time of year. I’ll take you around all the colleges—you’ll love that. Maybe we’ll even rent a punt, that’s a boat, and I’ll take you up to Grantchester.”
“Sounds like heaven.”
“You’ll get to see my family home, where I grew up. Meet my parents and my brother and his wife. My dad’s a bit hard-nosed and difficult, and Mum’s a bit uptight, but Alexander has a sense of humor if you catch him in the right mood. His wife is nice enough.”
My stomach flips. I hadn’t even thought about meeting Henry’s family, and now the realization has hit me, I’m terrified. “I didn’t think about that,” I confess. “Do they know I’m coming? Am I even invited? What will they think of me?”
Henry takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. “You don’t need to worry. I don’t know why they wouldn’t love you.”
“So they know I’m coming?”
He makes a face that lets me know his family definitely does not know I’m coming.
I grip his arm in terror. “You’re bringing me home as some random woman without any notice? What are you going to say?”
Henry’s expression is sincere when he replies. He meets my eyes, and his gaze doesn’t waver. “I’m going to tell them that this is Melissa, my girlfriend. I’m going to tell them that you’re an intelligent and driven woman who inspires me. I’m going to tell them I brought you home because I care deeply about you and wanted to spend Christmas with you.”
My heart flutters. I can tell every word is true.
I rest my head against Henry’s shoulder. “I’ll do my best not to let you down.”
Henry kisses my forehead and squeezes me. “Impossible—nothing you do could ever disappoint me.”
Henry
We arrive at my family home in the early hours of the morning. It’s pitch black outside, but that doesn’t detract from the magnitude of the estate.
The grounds are lit with evenly-spaced ornate lamps leading up to the house. Spotlights illuminate the house itself from below. It casts long shadows on the stone walls, making it look like some evil castle in the night.
It’s a huge building with three stories and two wings stretching out either side of the main entry hall. The garages are behind the house, another half mile up from the circular driveway that loops around a fountain in front of the mansion.
The driver pulls up, and we step outside. As we do, I watch Melissa’s expression of awe. Her mouth hangs open slightly as she looks up at the tall, imposing edifice, and then side to side at its impressive wings.
“This is all your family’s?” she asks.
I wrap my arm around her waist, following her gaze. I guess the place is quite something when seeing it for the first time, or after some time away. It looks more like one of the grand halls at Harvard than a domestic residence for a family of four.
“The Southby Estate,” I announce. “Nine bedrooms, six bathrooms, two double garages, three reception rooms, a ballroom, stables, and a guest house.” I laugh at the absurdity of it all even as I say it out loud. “My only complaint is it’s a bit cramped.”
Melissa shakes her head slowly. I feel her pressing her body closer against mine as she gets closer to the house. She goes to take her suitcase, but I tell her she doesn’t need to. “Simon will get that.”
“Simon?”
“The butler.”
“He’s here twenty-four-seven?”
“My father is often away on business, and my mother can’t stand to be in the house alone. She says it’s far too big for just one person to rattle around in.”
“I’d say she’s right. I’d be terrified alone in there. It looks like something straight out of a gothic horror movie. Is your father Dracula?”
I laugh. “It looks less scary in the light.”
“I knew you were rich, but this—”
“We’d be nothing if we hadn’t found a way of mixing new money with old. My father doesn’t simply lounge around, living off an ancient family fortune. He’s a property tycoon. Alexander owns a marketing company that makes millions. This place costs a small fortune to maintain.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“It’s a building,” I tell her. “That’s all.”
I take her hand and lead her toward the door. She lowers her voice to a whisper as we walk, aware that it’s only five a.m. “You grew up here?”
I point toward an upstairs window in the west wing. “That was my room.”
“I can’t imagine living a life like this. Even when Mom was around, we lived in dives.” She pulls out her phone and checks for messages. She looks disappointed when she has none. “Connor would lose his mind if he could be here now. He wouldn’t believe it.”
“Maybe one day he can come, too.”
“I wonder what he’s doing now. I really hope he’s okay. The whole flight here, I’ve been wondering whether I did the right thing.”
I know. You tore the pages of that in-flight magazine to shreds. By the time we had to put our tables up, it looked like a little pile of confetti. “But you’re here now. You might as well try and enjoy it.”
“You’re right. I’ll try.” She smooths down her jeans self-con
sciously. “I wish I’d thought more about the fact I’d be meeting your family. I’m not dressed to meet nobles.”
I laugh. “The titles are only for keeping appearances, but they lost their meaning a long time ago. Calling yourself a duke just gets you a better seat at the theatre and the odd ribbon-cutting ceremony when they can’t get a real celebrity to come down. We keep up appearances better than most because we still have the house. Most of the British nobility have taken to doing tours through their estates and auctioning off antique furniture to keep their roofs over their heads. Many give up. It looks like a lot, but it’s all smoke and mirrors.”
“Smoke and mirrors,” Melissa repeats quietly. “Are you sure? Because that fountain looks like more than an illusion. So do the butler and chauffeur. It looks very much like the aristocracy is alive and kicking.”
“Trust me, there is nothing lively about British aristocracy. Wait until you meet my father.”
We reach the top of the flight of stairs leading to the grand entrance of the estate. I knock at the huge, oak door with the heavy cast iron lion head knocker. Our housekeeper, Irene, opens the door. In her mid-fifties, she’s a woman with dark hair pulled back into a tight, low ponytail. She’s wearing a dark blue tunic dress with a white pinny.
She smiles when she sees me and steps forward to kiss me on the cheek. “Henry! It’s good to see you.”
“Irene. You didn’t have to stay up to see us in.”
“I didn’t want to miss you. It’s been quiet around here without you causing trouble.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
Irene looks over my shoulder and catches sight of Melissa. Her face breaks into a welcoming grin, and she steps back to usher us both inside. “Who is your friend, Henry?”
“This is Melissa.”
Irene nods her head in Melissa’s direction, offering a little dip at the knee. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hadn’t prepared another bedroom.”
“That’s no problem,” I say. “We’ll be sharing a room.”
