When the doorbell rings, my mitted hand freezes on the handle of the stove as I hear my mother's heels clack against the floor in order to go answer it. My momentary disbelief subsides, turning effectively back into anger. Opening the oven, I reach inside and grab the fruitcake, setting the lumpy dessert onto the rack.

I throw my mitt on the top of the stove, taking a deep breath before turning in search of Matteo. He's propped against the cabinets, staring at me. I smile apologetically and walk to him, relieved when his arms extend to me in invitation.

"Merry Christmas, Danny! It's so good of you to come!"

My eyes close. "We just have to get through a couple more hours."

My ex-fiancé stalks into the kitchen, surrounded by my family. To them, the chosen one. The one I chased away... the safe guy. My mother is complimenting his choice of sweater while Danny hands over a bottle of champagne to my father. And then his eyes scan the room for mine.

An uneasy feeling courses through me at his directness in front of Matteo, who he hasn't acknowledged. Crossing the room, he shocks us both when he leans in, planting a kiss to my cheek, pretending not to notice the way I flinch at the contact.

Matteo's arm is still wrapped around my waist, for Christ's sake.

"Em, thanks for the invite."

The invite? This guy thinks I wanted him to be here?

"Merry Christmas," I mumble, peering up to find Matteo's unsettled gaze on Danny, a silent warning. Danny is arrogant enough to try to undermine him.

"How are you, Matteo? Better now?"

I stiffen, glaring not at Danny, but at my mother.

"Yeah," Matteo answers calmly. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Glad to hear it."He turns towards my mom. "So, have I missed the festivities yet? Fruitcake?"

"We're about to sit down to dinner," Dad says, looking at me. "Do you need help with anything, sweet pea?"

"No, we've got this."

I'm referring to Matteo when I say we, and Danny is smart enough to know it.

***

"I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again."

I have the bowl of mashed potatoes in my grasp, steaming my palms. Matteo smirks at the dread seeping through my words, although his focus remains on cutting the meat into thin slices. The group has conjoined around the dining table, interested in Danny's life on tour. Not that I'm introducing the love of my life to them.

"This is fine, Em," he presses. "You're overreacting."

"I think I'm being pretty damn calm right now. I should be tearing them a new one."

"Emma, what did you expect?" His eyes slant as he sets down the knife. "I'm the alcoholic who broke your heart repeatedly and cost you your job. I expected this."

"Well, first, that's not who you are, at fucking all. And second, maybe I'm naïve but I didn't expect this. My family usually has the capacity for compassion, Matteo."

He has no intention of sitting here arguing. He makes that known when he leans down and kisses my temple, taking the plate of sliced meats with him, on his way to join the others.

Long after he's gone, and I hear them acknowledge his presence, I remain, cemented to the floor where I am. I don't know how to gear myself for this, how to keep my mouth shut.

Clearly, Matteo just wants to power through this.

"Can I help you with anything?"

I twist, finding my mother in the threshold of the room and stare at her, too disappointed to speak. She frowns, placing a hesitant hand on the island.

"Emma."

"How could you do this to me?" I whisper, my grip tightening on the bowl in my hands.

She chooses not to counter with a response. I don't really want one either. As I pass by her, she reaches out and grasps my arm. Like mother, like daughter, my gaze holds the same amount of unwavering passion hers does.

It just happens that we're passionate about different things.

I pull myself from her grip abruptly, leaving her on her own. The dining room and all of decorations Matteo and I spent all morning hanging and pasting seem ridiculous, unnecessary. There is nothing merry about this dinner.

"Alright, this is it," I announce, setting down the potatoes in the last open space on the table.

Danny smiles. "This looks wonderful, Emma."

"Matteo made most of the food."

"Oh?" Dad leans back in his chair, nodding to Matteo. "You cook, Matteo?"

"It's been a while, but I enjoy it. Thankfully, Emma was there with all the measurements."

Veronica smirks. "Teamwork. Can't beat it."

Danny stands once my mother enters the room, having composed herself. "I've brought champagne. How about we pop this sucker open?"

"Yes, I could use a drink," Mom says, taking a seat. Taking a seat beside Matteo, I raise my brows discreetly in question, but he reassures me with a dismissive shake of his head.

The cork pops. "Em? Got any glasses?"

Veronica stands from her chair when I don't answer him. "I've got it."

"Thanks, V." He glances over to Matteo, and I stiffen. "So, Matteo, when did you get back into town?"

"Two days ago."

"Really? You guys seem so close."

I chuckle under my breath, running a hand over my hair. Thankfully, Matteo is calm beside me. "That's the way we are with each other."

"Danny," Dad cuts in. "Tell me about Hawaii. I've wanted to know about the surf. It's been so long since I did it myself."

Veronica shows back up at the table with glasses, six of them. My eyes nearly pop out of my skull. Jesus, he's not going to drink, is he? I cross my legs nervously as she begins to set them down in front of the plates. She hesitates beside Matteo's but sets it down to be courteous.

"The water's fucking awesome, Jesse," Danny divulges, pouring champagne into my mother's flask. "It's like another world there. The culture... I mean, the culture is the best part about staying there."

I place my hand over the rim of my glass when he reaches me, shaking my head and he moves on.

"How big were the waves?"

Danny doesn't ask Matteo. He pours the shining gold liquid into the glass, droning on about Maui. "The swells were ridiculous. Ten, even some fifteen footers."

I'm blatantly glaring, about to explode. Danny takes his seat, having the nerve to wonder why I'm bristling, why the man beside me is bristling. "What?"

I'm physically biting my tongue.

"Oh, I'm sorry for that." My mother begins to rise from her seat. "Matteo, can you drink that or do you want us to take it?"

To take it... like he's a fucking child.

Matteo shakes his head, slowly and I sense his rigidness. He grabs it and sets it on my placemat, gently, without words.

He's angry with every right to be. Danny is testing him.

My gaze falls to my lap, my chest heaving. I'm going to end this. Matteo's hand rests over my thigh, a gentle guidance.

He doesn't want the fight.

***

"That's sweet of you, Danny. You know how much I like my coffee," Mom says, placing the unwrapped coffee machine onto the paper-ridden floor. Bing Crosby is crooning to soldiers on the flat screen.

"Yeah, thanks, Dan," Dad murmurs, setting down the multiple ties Danny got him.

Mom reaches out, holding a gift towards Matteo. We had been looking on them absorbed in their gifts, relaxed into the couches cushions that for a split moment, I think I allowed my guard to fall, and even a smile or two to escape at my families excitement. At the gift she's thrusting towards him though, the wall is back up.

Matteo releases my hand on my lap and takes it from her, his smile softening. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"We wanted to."

It doesn't escape my notice that he unwraps it with the same amount of trepidation I have watching him. He uncovers a book. I barely even scan the title before I look down at my shoes, losing all breath.

"I've read it before. It's a great book on inspiration and finding your place of mind," Mom says, unable to shake the way her voice raises with unnecessary concern when speaking to him. I'm not the only person shocked in the room. Veronica is shooting her daggers. The digs have gotten old.

Matteo is all politeness, although his smile is gone. "Thank you."

I open my mouth to snap at her when Danny reaches out, to hand me a gift. I stare at him, mouth still gaped.

"What's that?"

He chuckles. "What do you think it is, Em? A gift?"

"You didn't have to get me anything."

"It's Christmas, of course I did. Besides, it's something I've had for a while."

I flay the sides with dread, praying it's something insignificant like a shirt or something. It's an anklet with Hawaiian flowers on it. I smile, nodding with relief.

"It's pretty. Um, thank you."

"Of course."

While I set down the anklet, the couch rises. Matteo is up and bending by the tree, pulling some gifts out. They weren't there last night. He must have placed them there today. He extends one for each of my parents.

My heart sinks to my stomach.

They take them, surprised.

Matteo maneuvers his way to Veronica, offering her one as well. "I'm sorry, Danny. I didn't know you'd be here."

Danny shakes his head, smiling just barely as he watches Matteo approach me with a smaller box, placing it on my lap as he rejoins me on the couch with a sigh.

I stare down at the small box, feeling it's fragility between my fingers.

It's jewelry. It's in a square box. That makes me nervous.

No... there's no way he'd want to marry me after today. Shape up and smile.

I glance over at my mom, who is holding a painting of a beach with yellow sand facing the calm waters of the ocean. She glances to the artist's name at the bottom and her eyes widen. The artist must be known.

"Emma told me how much you love the water," Matteo says, shrugging.

She nods, smiling for first genuine smile to him of the evening. "It's lovely, really. Thank you, Matteo."

"Wow, Wordsworth! How did you know he was my favorite?" Dad says, holding a leather-cased book of poetry.

"Emma told me a while ago that you used to read his poems to her while she was a child. I saw it in a store in London the other day."

"That's... really kind of you," Dad says, glancing at Veronica who beams, holding up a Polaroid camera in excitement. I'm left staring at Matteo, awe-struck in the time he took to get them individualized presents.

"I had a hard time with yours, sorry. I'm not really used to... finding gifts for people."

"Well, you did really well," I chuckle, admiring him.

"I second that," Veronica says, already digging the camera from the box.

"Open yours," Matteo presses, gesturing to the gift I'm holding. I grab my gift to Matteo and hand it over to him, hoping it'll be less awkward if we open them together.

"Thank you," he whispers, smirking. I begin to unfold the wrapping. He keeps my gift to him on his lap, watching me remove a necklace from the box, my heart pounding. Dangling from the thin chain of silver is a star with a diamond nestled in the corner.

My mother's gaze is intensely observing Matteo, who isn't looking at her at all. "Wow."

"Oh, I love this part!" Veronica says as the foursome on the screen begins to sing together in a train.

"I saw it in Paris a couple months ago," Matteo mentions only to me. "It's inscribed."

Tu es la lumière de ma vie

I smile curiously. "What does it mean?"

"You are the light of my life."

I'm undone. While they all direct their attention to the screen, I pull him close, tilting my lips into his, nuzzling my face against his own.

"And you're the light of mine," I whisper to him.