Page 131 of Such Sharp Teeth

“Merrrrryy Christmas,” Santa thunders. “Have you been naughty? Or have you been nice?”

“Yeah,” Ian says. “You’re right. I don’t know what you’ve been through. But I’m not a mind reader, Rory.”

“Oh, wow. News to me.”

He steps toward me. The bells chime.

“What was I supposed to think? First, you disappear. Then I find out you’re hooking up with guys at bars. You don’t tell me anything, not about how you’re feeling. How am I supposed to know if you refuse to tell me?”

Guess he’s got me there.

“Because . . .” I assumed there would be a sentence to follow, but I don’t appear to have one on deck.

“Because why? Why can’t you tell me?”

While my brain is scrambling, the rest of me goes ahead without it. “Because I’m falling in love with you and I’m a fucking monster!”

I’ve done it now.

“Have you been naughty? Or have you been nice?” Santa asks. “Ho-ho-ho!”

I take a deep breath and look down at my hands. I’ve got something underneath my fingernails. I think it might be Mia’s scalp.

“What?” Ian comes toward me.

The sleigh bells are going, or maybe what I’m actually hearing is the harbinger of death arriving to put me out of my misery.

“What did you say?”

“I said . . . something very eloquent and charming that made you want to be with me.”

“I do. I thought I made that clear,” he says. He’s in front of me now. “But I can’t keep going back and forth.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Even if you change your mind. You have to talk to me. You have to tell me. You can’t disappear. You can’t hide things from me. It’s not fair.”

“But what if there are things that I’m not ready to tell you yet? What if you change your mind? The more you get to know about me. What if I’ve finally found someone I want to be with, and it’s a swift pull of the rug?”

“I’m fucking here, aren’t I?” he says. “I’m standing right here. I’ve been here.”

“You’re here now. But I can’t make you stay.” My mouth floods with my own tears, and snot probably. Yeah, it’s mostly snot. “I hate this. I feel naked. And not in a fun way.”

From inside the house, a chorus of voices starts counting down.

He wipes my tears away with his thumbs.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I ask him. “I’d kiss you but you’re too tall for me to initiate. I need a step stool or something.”

He laughs, lifting me up by the waist. It’s a nose musher in the best way. I sink into him, and the bells become whimsical instead of obnoxious. Amazing, how that happens.

He puts me down.

“Will you take me home?” I ask him.

“I’m just gonna get my coat. Did you have one?”

“Nah. I run hot.”