In A Holidaze(67)

He nods like he understands. “I see.”

“Think about it,” I say, quickly adding, “Or don’t. I mean, I have no idea if I’ve insulted you, or—”

“You haven’t in the slightest.”

“—or whether this is even something people do?” I grimace apologetically. “I feel really naive all of a sudden.”

“I’m sorry,” he says with a smile, and then leans forward, taking my hands. “You haven’t insulted me, and you don’t sound naive at all, honey. I wasn’t trying to let you flounder; I was trying to figure out your motivations and whether I would be taking something away from you that I hadn’t considered.”

“Taking—?” I shake my head. “I don’t understand.” “Taking your opportunity to own this place. I’ve already made an offer to Ricky and Lisa.”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out except for a wheezy zombie creak. Finally, “An offer on the cabin?”

He squeezes my hands. “The first time you lived through this week, you didn’t know until the last day that Ricky and Lisa were selling it. And I mean, who knows? Maybe I would have stepped in later and made an offer, but I know myself. I’m hesitant to make commitments to big things. Maybe I would have just been sad like the rest of us, and briefly considered buying it, but by the time I got back to Portland I bet I’d have talked myself out of it. But you told me the very first day. So,” he says, and smiles again, “I was here all week, thinking about how much I love this place and trying to imagine never being here with all of you again. Knowing what was coming made it easier for me to get used to the idea of taking that leap. And it also let me pry a little with Ricky.” His smile turns wolfish. “Subtly, of course. Just a question here or there.”

“I’m sorry.” I hold my hands out, unwilling to unleash the euphoria. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m buying the cabin.”

I bolt out of my seat, tackling him in a hug. His chair cracks and breaks; we fall in a dusty tumble to the wood floor.

“I take it that’s okay with you?” Benny laughs beneath me.

? ? ?

I’m confident that my next conversation cannot top the perfection of how things just went with Benny, but I’m relieved that when Theo sees me come down into the basement, he doesn’t stand up to immediately leave.

In fact, he smiles.

He sits up at the small card table, wearing a Captain America Christmas sweater that looks at least one size too small and cupping his hands around a mug of coffee. “I was looking for you earlier.”

“That would make one of you,” I say, laughing as I sit down. “Most people in this house seem to turn the other way when I walk in.”

“Aw, it isn’t that bad, is it?”

I shake my head. “I’m just kidding. Everyone has been amazingly patient with my mental calamity, as expected.”

“Except me.”

I laugh at this, unexpectedly loud. “Except you.”

“Look,” he says. “I was a jerk yesterday. I’m sorry. You know me—sometimes I just need a day to cool my head.”

I don’t think I realized how upset I’ve been about the fissure in our relationship until he says that, and I feel the tears rising like a wave in my throat. Of course I know that about him. I’ve always known that he is slow to anger and even slower to defuse. So why didn’t I ever give him the benefit of the doubt the first time around? In hindsight, he just needed to be left alone the morning after we kissed, to be allowed to dig out from his own mortifi-cation. All this time I’ve been upset with him for simply being exactly the person I always knew he was.

But before I can swallow them down, the tears are pouring over. He immediately jumps up and rushes around the table, kneeling to hug me. I’m sure he’s bewildered by my reaction, but he has no way of knowing how badly I needed to hear this apology—for something this version of Theo didn’t even do. It’s like being angry at someone after they behaved badly in a dream; it isn’t Theo’s fault that I needed days of emotional space from him.

His question is a low rumble against my shoulder. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Even the idea of going through it all again feels, mentally, like running into a brick wall. I also know that it won’t help matters: If Theo was struggling with the idea of me with Andrew, the last thing he needs to hear is what happened in some alternate version of reality. Telling him won’t make me feel better, won’t help Theo feel better, and it won’t help anything between me and Andrew.

“Do you mind if we skip the whole download?” I say. “I’m realizing that, in this particular situation, I should probably just move forward.”

He pulls back and lifts his chin, studying me sweetly. “Okay. I’ll let it go. But if you change your mind, you know I’m always here to give you bad advice.”

I laugh. “Thanks.”

After a long beat of contemplative silence, he asks, “So you were really into my brother all this time?”

I nod. “Since you and I were thirteen.”

He whistles, low and sympathetic. “That’s a long time, Mae. Holy shit.”

“Is it weird to admit to you that I don’t know what it would feel like to not be infatuated with Andrew?”