All of Me

thirty-nine • happy new year

My nose drags me to the kitchen on an intoxicating trail and the second my toe crosses the threshold, Mom throws her arms around me and I'm swallowed up by her height and her hug. She grips me for a long time, as though I'm trying to get away, but I hold her just as tightly.

"Happy Christmas, baby," she whispers. Her lips brush my cheek. I inhale her Mom smell, tinged with coffee and cinnamon and baking bread. I wish I could bottle that scent. There's nothing more comforting. "Goodness knows you deserve it," she says, her cheek pressed to mine. Her skin is warm and soft, her hug less angular than I've grown used to. Every day, I see more and more of old Mom. I owe Tad the world.

"Thanks, Mom. Merry Christmas," I say, and I pull away smiling. Her beam is full and her eyes are sparkling. She looks like a million bucks, even in a onesie with a streak of flour across her forehead.

"Do you like my pajamas?" She steps back with a laugh and shows off her outfit, a red onesie with a printed belt and a white fur trim. "I'm Mrs Claus!"

Tad comes in from the dining room in a matching outfit, looking ridiculous, and he slips his arm around Mom's waist. "And what a beautiful Mrs Claus you are." He kisses her cheek; she turns her head to meet his lips.

They're not married yet, but they've set a date. The end of March, a cool spring wedding. It'll be a small affair: the four of us and Kris, and a handful of Mom's and Tad's friends from work and town. I can't wait.

When Gray comes over to me, I nod at Mom and Tad's matching look and say, "We should have had elf pajamas."

He frowns. "Are you suggesting that the elves are Santa's children? You think he and Mrs Claus had thousands of genetically mutated elf babies to enslave as toymakers?"

Tad rolls his eyes and ruffles Gray's hair, knocking his hat even more askew. "You're overthinking it a bit, I think. And anyway, you make a very dashing snowman."

Gray does a twirl and a bow, and he grins when Kris comes in dressed like a Christmas tree in a green onesie, with pompoms dangling like ornaments and a star bobbing on a headband. He pulls me to him, though the pompoms make it slightly uncomfortable, and he hugs me like it's the first time he's seen me in weeks.

He's been here for two days now, and he's staying until the new year, and I don't want him to leave. When he arrived with the snow, I was determined not to ruin the holiday with what happened between Liam and me, but I couldn't hide it when he asked. He took me to my room and I told him every little thing. Every tiny detail. I didn't cry until I caught the quiver of his bottom lip. He tried to hide it by hugging me, but that too was more than enough to set me off.

He didn't hide his anger. But it didn't tarnish his advice. Talking to him helped more than I thought it could, untangling some of the knotted threads in my mind.

"Now that we're all here," Gray says, pulling Mom's attention away from Tad and mine from Kris, "can we eat? I've been up for hours."

• • •

The thirty-first becomes the first in the blink of an eye. One moment, it's the tail end of December and then January crashes into me. Or rather, Gray. He throws his arms around me and holds me in a hug so tight it chokes the air out of me. He smells like cinnamon and beer, a little of which is staining my top after it sloshed out of his bottle.

"Happy New Year!" he cries, loud and tipsy and adorably Gray. He pulls away and gives me a loose, dorky grin that tells me this beer should be his last. He's the loudest thing about tonight's celebrations, his voice drowning out the madness on the TV when the ball drops in Times Square.