Once Upon A Christmas Eve: A Novella by Katie Klein Read Free Book Online Page A

and natural and expected it’s impossible to think I’ve only known him going on two hours.
    Somehow it’s impossible to imagine not knowing him.
    His aunt lifts her phone to snap a photo of us, documenting the moment forever. “One more, just in case.”
    “I should probably get going,” I announce when she finishes, rising. It has to be close to eight by now.
    “Let me get you that cheesecake,” she says. I follow her to the kitchen. She busies herself at the refrigerator, removing dishes, setting them on the counter, rearranging things until she finally produces a brown box. She opens the lid, checking it. “Tell your mom and Samantha ‘Merry Christmas’ from us, all right?” she insists.
    I take the pie box from her. “I will.”
    “And thank you so much for coming. We enjoyed having you.”
    “Thank you for letting me hang out with you guys. The food was delicious. Everything is so beautiful,” I reply.
    “Well, you are absolutely welcome to stop by and see us any time. I’m always here if you need anything.”
    I thank her, forcing back unexpected tears staining my vision. The offer, her kindness and generosity, triggering that familiar ache rooted at my feet, determining to creep up legs and body until it devours me. I am thankful for Jonathan. Jonathan, who hands me my black peacoat, collects boxes so I can slip it over my shoulders.
    “Don’t forget about your car,” he reminds me.
    I manage a smile as the world clears, correcting itself. With everything else going on, I’m not sure there’s enough room for sad tears on Christmas Eve. “Actually, we can walk from here. Do you mind if I steal Jonathan for a while?” I ask Mrs. Andrews.
    “Absolutely not. Jonathan, we’ll be up late, I’m sure. But, if not, you know where the spare key is?”
    “I do.”
    “Great. Enjoy yourselves.”
    She passes her nephew a wink I’m not sure I’m supposed to see. Grandma hugs us both on the way out the front door. Tessa and Leslie wave, still wanting my boots, possibly. Derrick tells me not to be a stranger. And then Jonathan’s mom is there, standing with us in the foyer. “We’re going to Olivia’s for a while,” he tells her.
    “All right. I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to talk more,” she tells me. “Next time, maybe?”
    Next time.
    Permanent.
    I force a smile. “Sure.”
    Jonathan pulls the front door closed behind him, disconnecting us from everything inside, exhaling what might be a sigh of relief, breath smoking in the icy air.
    “That wasn’t too terrible,” I say as he joins me on the narrow walk leading to the curb.
    “It wasn’t. In fact, I think it’s ranking pretty close to the top in terms of best Christmas Eves ever.”
    “It was fun,” I agree. “I like your family.”
    “My good time had nothing to do with family,” he admits, stealing a sideways glance at me.
    Heat rises to my cheeks, warming me from the inside out as we step into the road, take a left.
    “I think you’re right about the teasing,” I say. “It’s just the way you guys operate. Most of it is good-natured. The English stuff sucked, though. It’s really none of their business what you major in.”
    We walk in silence, the gravel spilling over from a driveway crunching between shoes and asphalt, the house it belongs to washed in night. On the other side of the street an older man crosses a lawn, heads to a car, unlocks it.
    “Beautiful night!” he calls to us, opening the trunk.
    “Yes, sir,” Jonathan replies. “Merry Christmas!”
    A rush of biting air sweeps in as I marvel at how different Jonathan is from the boys I grew up with—how unlike the guys at school in nearly every way. Honest and decent. Not interested in drawing unnecessary attention to himself or showing off. Genuinely kind and considerate—no ulterior motives—exuding this subtle charm he doesn’t even realize he has.
    Yes, he tends to procrastinate, he’s not a list-maker, and he could be more assertive