Page 37 of The Loophole
“Awesome! It’s at eight, and it’s just a few blocks from here. I thought maybe we could walk over.”
He nodded and pushed his chair back from his desk. “In that case, I’d better get dinner going.”
I followed him into the kitchen, took my seat on the barstool, and watched him work his magic. He was humoring me bymaking spaghetti empanadas again, because I’d loved them so much the first time.
Bryson was quiet during the meal, and afterwards as we cleaned up together. Later on, we got changed and met up in the foyer, and I murmured, “Wow, you look great.” He’d put on black dress pants and a royal blue sweater, along with a black wool overcoat that made him look elegant and sophisticated.
He was obviously just being polite when he told me I looked great, too. I was wearing my best pair of jeans, a button-down shirt, and a puffy ski jacket, and I probably looked like a dork.
On our walk to the concert venue, I asked, “Are you nervous about seeing your family in a couple of days?” I figured that might have been why he’d been so quiet.
“I’m dreading it on multiple levels,” he admitted. “This time, there’s the added pressure of convincing them we’re a real couple, but it’s always pretty disheartening. First, there’s my grandfather, who treats me like I’m still a kid. He offers way too much unsolicited advice on every aspect of my life, and while I know it comes from a place of love, it’s like he thinks I’m completely incompetent.”
“I can see how that’d be annoying.”
“It is, and there’s more. Most of my cousins are obnoxious, but worst of all is my brother, Fallon. He’s a bitter, angry person, and he takes that out on me while blatantly sucking up to our grandfather, in the hopes of getting a bigger piece of the inheritance pie. Also, Fallon and his wife are usually arguing, which casts a cloud over everything.”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
He glanced at me as we stopped at an intersection and waited for the light to change. “I’m used to it. What’s bothering me is thatyouhave to deal with it. You love Christmas more than anyone I’ve ever met, and I wish I could give you the perfectholiday. Instead, I’m making you deal with my dysfunctional family.”
I touched his sleeve and said, “I’m glad I’m going with you, because it sounds like you need someone in your corner. Plus, you have an easy out this time. Whenever you want a break from your family, we can play the horny honeymooner card and tell them we want some time to ourselves. They can’t say no to that.”
That made him grin. “True.”
As the light changed and we stepped off the curb, I asked, “Do they know you’re bringing me?”
“He always calls me on my birthday, so I’m telling my grandfather tomorrow. I want him to hear it before the rest of the family. I also want to give him a day to absorb the news that I eloped, and that I married a man.”
“What are you going to say when he asks why you got married two weeks ago, but you’re only telling him now?”
“I’ll tell him I wanted you all to myself during our first couple of weeks as a married couple. What else can I say? The truth is that you and I needed time to get to know each other, and to get comfortable with this whole thing. He would have shown up on our doorstep and wanted to meet you immediately, and we weren’t ready.”
“Does that mean he might show up at the house tomorrow?”
“No, because he’s already at his brother’s place in Healdsburg. Most of the family is arriving today, but we’re not expected until Monday, because I said I had plans on my birthday. I figured the less time there, the better.”
It was nice to see him relax a little when we got to the concert venue. It was being held in a beautiful vintage theater, and the lobby had been decorated with white lights and clusters of Christmas trees. I bought us hot apple cider and gingerbread cookies at the concession stand, and then we found our seats and settled in.
The event was a fundraiser for a local children’s charity, and it featured a wide range of performers. My favorites were the orchestra that played selections from The Nutcracker, and a theater company that performed songs from holiday movies. Finally, a local jazz band sang Christmas carols and invited the audience to join in.
I kept watching Bryson out of the corner of my eye, and he seemed to be having fun. When the carols started, he held back at first, but then he started mouthing the words. I held my program open for both of us, which included the lyrics, and by the end of it he was singing along as loudly as I was.
Afterwards, as we left the theater, he was happier than I’d ever seen him. “That was absolutely wonderful,” he said. “Thank you for bringing me.”
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”
We started walking, and I took his hand without thinking about it. He didn’t say anything, but when I realized what I was doing, I came up with a flimsy excuse. “I thought we should practice,” I said. “We’ll have to do this when we’re with your family.”
He murmured, “Good idea,” and gently ran his thumb over the back of my hand.
I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, because it made me want something I couldn’t have. But I didn’t let go.
That ended up being a good thing a few minutes later, when I managed to trip over a slightly uneven part of the sidewalk. I started to lunge forward, already anticipating how much it was going to hurt when I landed on my knees. But Bryson yanked me upright and pulled me toward him.
I steadied myself with a hand on his chest and looked up at him. I loved how sturdy he was, in the best sense of the word—strong and solid. It made me feel safe, somehow.
When I murmured, “Sorry,” he shook his head.