The days leading up to Christmas were a whirlwind of activity. Linda's family insisted on making the celebrations grand, and with so many relatives coming and going, Chris and Linda barely had a moment to themselves. Still, the unspoken tension between them lingered, growing stronger with every shared glance or accidental touch.
On Christmas Eve, the entire family gathered in the living room, singing carols and exchanging stories. Linda's younger siblings decorated cookies while her uncles passed around a bottle of homemade wine. Chris, seated on the couch beside Linda, felt a sense of warmth he hadn't experienced in years.
"You're smiling," Linda whispered, leaning closer so the others wouldn't overhear.
Chris turned to her, his eyes sparkling. "Can't help it. Your family has a way of making me feel like I belong."
Linda's heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice. "You do belong," she said softly, surprising even herself.
Before Chris could respond, Linda's mother clapped her hands, drawing everyone's attention.
"Alright, everyone! Time to prepare for midnight mass!" she announced, her tone commanding.
Linda groaned inwardly. Midnight mass meant hours of sitting, standing, and kneeling in an overcrowded church. Still, she had to admit, it was one of her family's most cherished traditions.
Chris leaned closer as the family began to disperse. "Midnight mass sounds intense," he said, his voice low.
"You have no idea," Linda replied with a wry smile.
---
The mass was, as expected, long and elaborate. By the time they returned home, it was nearly 2 a.m., and everyone was too exhausted to do more than mumble goodnight before retreating to their rooms.
Linda and Chris entered their shared room, both moving in sync to get ready for bed. Chris tossed his jacket over a chair and sat on the edge of the bed, undoing his tie.
"Your family doesn't do anything halfway, do they?" he said, his tone light.
"Not even a little," Linda replied, kicking off her heels.
For a moment, they moved around the room in comfortable silence, their earlier awkwardness replaced by an easy camaraderie. But as they settled into bed, lying on opposite sides, the tension from the night before returned.
Linda turned on her side, facing him. "Chris?"
He turned to meet her gaze, his expression unreadable. "Yeah?"
"What you said earlier... about feeling like you belong. Did you mean it?"
Chris nodded. "I did. Your family... they're overwhelming, but in a good way. It's been a long time since I felt this connected to people."
Linda studied him, her chest tightening at the vulnerability in his voice. She wasn't used to seeing this side of him-the man behind the easy charm and quick wit.
"You're a good guy, Chris," she said softly.
Chris chuckled, though his eyes remained serious. "Coming from you, that means a lot."
They lapsed into silence, the air between them heavy with unspoken words.
"Do you ever think about what happens after this?" Linda asked suddenly.
Chris frowned. "After what?"
"After the holidays. When this whole engagement charade ends," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Chris hesitated, his gaze locked on hers. "Honestly? I try not to think about it."
Linda's heart sank. "Why not?"
"Because I'm starting to like this," he admitted, his voice steady but quiet. "Being here. With you."
Linda's breath caught. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his.
Chris didn't pull away. Instead, he took her hand, his grip warm and firm.
"Maybe we don't have to think about it right now," he said. "Maybe we just focus on getting through Christmas."
Linda nodded, though her mind was racing. She wasn't sure what was happening between them, but one thing was clear: the lines they'd drawn at the start of this arrangement were becoming increasingly blurred.
As the room grew quieter, they lay side by side, their hands still intertwined. And for the first time in a long time, Linda felt like she wasn't running-from her family, from her fears, or from the possibility of something real.
Maybe, just maybe, this was worth exploring.