The night was getting late, and thankfully, the conflict had stopped. It was getting kind of hairy, and the anger had definitely been rising an hour or two earlier. There was a protectiveness to Declan I had recognized from our first time meeting, and that protective streak flared when Bill started hinting that I had some kind of negative intentions. And, listen, I get it. I wasn’t exactly walking into a family dynamic like the one I’d grown up with. Both my parents were middle-class people with a couple of old Toyotas in the garage and a piggy bank set up for once-a-year vacations.

The Rose-Covingtons, on the other hand, had enough money to take a trip to Mykonos and party with Lindsay Lohan every weekend if they wanted to. And so I could understand where some of the bristly-ness was coming from, but also… dude, give me a chance.

Then again, this isn’t even real, so I guess I do end up with the last laugh?

I guess.

God, the wine Grandma Lucy had kept pouring for me was strong. My face was numb and my limbs were tingling and my words were falling like the few snowflakes that were starting to float down from the heavy clouds that had moved in to cover the stars.

“So you’ve never gone skydiving?” Robin asked me, surprise in her voice.

“No of course not! Why would I jump out of a perfectly good plane? I’ll save that shit for some kind of engine malfunction or something.” I knocked on wood repeatedly, almost knocking over my glass.

“Mom, you’ve never been skydiving, either! Don’t act so surprised that Andrew won’t do it, too.”

Robin looked to Declan, her eyes wide. “Betrayed by my own son! Oh, the hurt. I thought you’d make me look at least a little cool in front of your boyfriend.”

“Oh honey,” Grandma Lucy said, “your cool card was declined the second you decided that Crocs were an acceptable shoe to wear to a Backstreet Boys reunion concert. I don’t think you ever recovered from that.”

“Wow, I’m shocked.” Robin had a hand to her chest, offense on her face. “Do none of you love me?”

“I learned to after a while,” Grandma Lucy said nonchalantly, almost making me spit out the wine I was drinking.

“You guys are too much,” I said, laughing and shaking my head. I leaned over onto Declan for a moment, resting my head on his shoulder and smiling and forgetting all about our little arrangement. This felt so natural, surrounded by family and love. Most of the table had clocked in for the night, leaving Grandma Lucy, Declan, Robin, Kieran, and yours truly as the last stragglers. I was really happy when Robin had come back to the table. She spoke with Declan privately and then rejoined us, both of them seeming like everything would be okay. I wasn’t sure if Declan had told her what he found, but I assumed he hadn’t because she sat down with such a positive energy that it quickly spread to us, and soon all the negativity from earlier was gone.

“All right, guys, I’m heading to bed.” It was Kieran who was clocking out next. We all said good night, and he got up and left through the curtain of lights. When he was gone, Grandma Lucy looked around and clapped her hands on the table. “All right, no minors—let's get the real party started!”

I lifted my head off Declan, looking at her with admiration in my eyes. At least I hoped it was admiration, but there was starting to be two Grandma Lucys, so I may have been giving her a look that read less “awe” and more “nausea.”

“Let’s play my favorite holiday game,” she said, getting up and making sure we all had full glasses. I was about to tap out but thought to myself… eh, fuck it. Grandma Lucy gave me a refill and sat back down. Declan’s hand was on my lower back, and he was slowly trailing his fingers around in small circles, and holy shit was I losing it. Again, it was probably the wine speaking at this point, but wow was he driving me crazy with his touch.

“All right,” Grandma Lucy said. “So this is a little game called Tickle the Holiday Elf’s Balls.”

“Oh my god,” Robin said, dropping her head into her hands with a laugh.

“What?” Grandma Lucy protested. “I said ‘holiday’ to keep it neutral.”

“Right, because that’s what jumped out at me,” Robin said.

“All righty, anyways, so to play this game, we have to make up rules, and then every turn someone has to perform the last rule while making a new one. So I’ll start with when it’s your turn, lift up your glass and tickle the little elf’s balls. Give him a good Christmas.”

I was cracking up, watching Declan’s grandmother raise her glass, almost spilling red wine down on the white-and-green tablecloth, as she tickled an imaginary pair of elf nuts.

“Okay, Robin, your turn. Tickle little Elfy’s balls, and then come up with your own rule. Whoever forgets a rule has to drink.”

“Okay… umm.” Robin lifted her glass and wiggled her fingers while rolling her eyes. “You have to… say ho, ho, ho at the start of your turn.”

“Good one!” Grandma Lucy said. I clapped and nodded, already trying to think of what rule I could come up with, but with the wine sloshing around in my head, I couldn’t think of anything past tickling an elf’s balls.

It was Declan’s turn. He lifted his glass, did the ritual, and started with “Ho, ho, ho,” a big grin on his face.

I wouldn’t mind sitting in that Santa’s la—Nope. No. Bad, Andrew.

Lap.

“All right, my rule is that you’ve gotta say something nice about me on your turn.”

There was a collective “ugh” and an eye roll from us before we all started laughing. Then it was my turn, so I picked up my wineglass, lifted it in the air, and did the deed. “Ho, ho, ho! Declan, you’ve got an incredible smile. It never fails to make me smile.”

“Awwee,” Grandma Lucy said from my side. “You two are giving me serious Hallmark Channel–movie emotions, and I’m loving it.”

A heat rushed to my cheeks. My face got even redder than it had already become from the drinking. Declan’s head was cocked, said smile on his face. “Okay, my rule is… you have to uh, tap your nose.” I shrugged; it was the only thing I could come up with.

“As an ode to Rudolph?” Declan asked, brow arched.

“Exactly!” I said, not even thinking of that.

We went on for a few rounds, the rules getting absolutely ridiculous, until it got to me and I had forgotten to milk the cow while singing my favorite Christmas carol. So since I was the first loser, I took a big gulp of my wine and jumped back in the game. We reset the slate and kept playing, having fun as the time escaped us all.

It was around midnight—I remember because it was the first time I checked my watch—that things took a turn for me.

We were wrapping things up, winding down, when Grandma Lucy asked, “So, Andrew, do your parents go big for the holiday season?”

It was a simple question asked by Declan’s grandmother, but it was a question that worked as a key, unlocking the door inside me that was holding back a twisted, tangled mess of trauma and hurt. The wine only added lubrication to the hinges, letting the door swing faster and harder.

“It’s… no, not the same.” I swallowed, feeling myself start to split in half. “I’m actually going to call it a night,” I said, surprised I managed to get anything out of my now dry-as-ash mouth. I looked to Declan for a moment, as if searching for my lighthouse in a storm, and then I quickly looked away, realizing that Declan wasn’t the lighthouse—he was the storm. He was only going to make my emotions crazier. I had to get to the guesthouse and into bed so I could silently cry myself into a drunken sleep.

I got up, thanking Lucy and Robin for a wonderful night. I grabbed my dirty plates, but Robin assured me not to worry about it, so I nodded and started walking out, well aware of Declan standing up to follow behind me. My departure was a little abrupt, but I needed to get out of there. I had to. It all came crashing down on me at once. I had looked around and, for a split second, I saw my mom and dad sitting there at the table, sharing in the joy of the season with us. I saw them smiling and laughing and alive.

And it killed me.

The moment I made it past the wall of lights, the floodgates opened and my cheeks ran with a river of tears. The sudden cold made the tears feel as if they’d freeze into icicles as they fell off my chin. I put a hand up to my mouth to stifle any rogue cries and started walking as fast as I could, wanting to get ahead of Declan and compose myself before he saw me like this.

Around me, snow was falling. It was beginning to collect on the lit path in front of me, creating a fine layer of white dust on the stone beneath me. There was a contrast now between the real snow and the fake powdery stuff already dissolving into the grass around it.

And even through tear-streaked eyes, I could still see how the real snow just looked so much better than the fake stuff.