“Your papers on capital market theory are due in by the end of the week. I want to see references to the Markowitz portfolio model. Any questions, come see me in my office.”

The professor brings the lecture to an end and leaves the hall. I shut my notebook and turn to Melissa. Her head is still bowed as she scribbles her last few notes. Her page is entirely filled with line after line of meticulous cursive, each key phrase highlighted in pink.

A moment later, she lets out a long breath and shuts her notebook. She lifts her glasses to rub her eyes, then turns to me and smiles. “Phew. I feel like I have market theory coming out my ears.”

“The course is definitely gathering speed.”

She raises her eyebrows playfully. “Doesn’t mean you’re actually going to have to study, does it?”

“I think it might. My father wants me to get a 3.5 GPA, but you know what? I think I want to get a 3.8.”

Melissa’s smile softens, and she threads her fingers through mine. “I love the change I’m seeing in you. You’re capable of so much.”

“I think it’s time I found my own direction,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. If I want to be in control of my own life, then I have to stop relying on my father for my basic needs. I want to be my own man.”

“And so you should be.” Melissa looks up at me and smiles.

We stand and edge our way out of the back row, joining the throng of students filing out of the auditorium. I check my watch.

“Got time for a coffee before your next class?”

Melissa glances up at the clock above the lecture hall doors. “I think so.”

I circle my arm around her waist, and we walk together to the Spangler Center. We order some coffees from the hole-in-the-wall coffee joint and sit together at a small round table among the bustle.

Looking at Melissa, I can see she’s tired. There are dark circles under her eyes, and although she’s smiling, it looks like her mind is somewhere else.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She flicks her gaze up to me and curls her fingers around her coffee mug. “Same old, same old.”

“Connor?”

She lets out a little sigh. “He’s driving me up the wall.”

“How so?”

“We had an argument the other day.”

“Because of Thanksgiving?”

Melissa looks away. “He was angry I went out. I was angry he was trying to guilt-trip me after I offered to stay home with him for Thanksgiving. I told him the truth. Said he needed to grow up.”

I grimace. “Bet he loved that.”

“He’s hardly spoken to me since. He storms in with a face like thunder, then storms out again. He’s been getting into more fights lately—at least, he comes home looking like he’s been throwing punches. I don’t know what there is to fight about. I think maybe he’s just drinking too much and picking fights, but then I wonder if it’s something worse. I don’t know anything about drug culture; the type of people he spends his time with. I don’t know how he keeps affording to get high. What if he’s getting into the bad books of dangerous people?”

I hate to see Melissa looking so defeated. Her shoulders are hunched over, and she stares down into her coffee with a morose expression. “The worst of it is, I’m too scared to ask him about it. Every time I suggest he make some changes in his life, he jumps down my throat. I don’t want to push him so far away I lose all idea of what he’s getting up to. At least while he’s living under my roof, I can account for him some of the time.”

“Telling him those home truths didn’t make anything better, then?”

Melissa shakes her head solemnly. “I thought maybe tough love would do the trick, but nothing ever gets through to Connor.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head again. Her fingers tighten around her now-empty coffee mug. “Christmas is coming, and I can’t stand the thought of spending it with him. The holidays used to be so much fun with Mom around, and now they’re just a reminder she’s gone. Connor’s always at his worst at Christmas. I know I’m going to spend the whole holiday walking on eggshells around him.” She shudders. “I miss normal Christmases.”

I don’t think twice before I make Melissa an offer. I lean forward, and the words spill instinctively out my mouth. “Come to England with me.”

Her eyebrows rise in surprise, and she titters breathlessly. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m not kidding. Christmases at my house suck, too, but at least the food’s good. We could make an adventure out of it. I’ll show you England. You could see a little of my world. I think it would be a lot of fun. An American Thanksgiving and a British Christmas.”

Melissa smiles gratefully but shakes her head. “That sounds lovely, but I just don’t think I can.”

My shoulders fall in disappointment. For a moment, I’d had a vision of taking Melissa home. I’d imagined taking her to Oxford Street when all the lights were shining or taking her ice skating at Hyde Park. I’d pictured her sitting beside me at Christmas dinner; someone radiant among the tired, dull, expressionless people without a shred of Christmas spirit between them.

“No way at all?”

“I couldn’t afford it, first of all,” Melissa says. “Then there’s Connor.”

“He survived Thanksgiving without you. He’d survive Christmas, too.”

Melissa lays her hand over mine gently. “I felt bad enough that I left him on Thanksgiving. As much as he put on that rebellious act, I think he was hurt spending it alone. Plus, even if I wasn’t worried about how he’d feel about it, I can’t trust him in the apartment alone. If he knew I was going to be away for more than a few hours, who knows what he’d get up to? He could end up doing drugs in there; dealing them, even. Think of the damage he could do.”

She trails off, then picks up her train of thought once more. “Plus, I’ve got work at the diner, and papers to complete, exams to study for. As much as I want to, I can’t simply disappear.”

I swallow back my disappointment. “I understand.”

* * *

I knock on Melissa’s door with a gift in my hands and my heart on my sleeve.

She answers, and I see her mouth quickly lift in a happy smile. “Henry! What are you doing here?”

“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.”