Forbidden Christmas

CHAPTER 2: The Man She Shouldn't Remember

Maya's Pov

I stared at my empty suitcase like it was personally offending me. It had been sitting open on my bed for two hours now, and I'd managed to pack exactly three pairs of socks and a sweater I definitely wouldn't wear.

The problem wasn't the packing. The problem was that every time I picked up a piece of clothing, my brain decided to replay memories I'd spent three years trying to forget.

I folded a pair of jeans and suddenly I was back at Sophie's graduation, standing in the crowd of parents and students, sweat dripping down my back in the June heat. Sophie had been bouncing with excitement, her cap sliding off her curls every few seconds.

"There's my dad!" she'd squealed, waving frantically.

I'd turned to look, expecting some generic dad in khakis and a polo shirt. That's not what I got.

Derek Hayes was forty-one then, but he didn't look it. Not in the way that mattered. He had on a simple button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and even from a distance, there was something about the way he carried himself. Confident. Solid. Like he knew exactly who he was and didn't need to prove anything to anyone.

Sophie dragged me over to meet him. I remembered feeling nervous for no reason I could name.

"Dad, this is Maya. My roommate I've been telling you about."

He'd smiled at me, and it wasn't one of those polite parent smiles. It was real. Warm.

"Maya. Sophie talks about you constantly. Pretty sure you're the only reason she passed statistics."

His voice was deeper than I expected. Rich, like good coffee.

"She's being dramatic," I'd said, trying to sound normal. "She's actually really good at math when she's not panicking."

"That's generous of you." He'd looked at me then, really looked at me, and something in my chest had tightened. "Sophie says you're going into marketing?"

"That's the plan. If I can find a job that doesn't want five years of experience for an entry-level position."

He'd laughed at that. A real laugh that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"The job market is brutal right now. What kind of marketing are you interested in?"

And then we'd talked. Actually talked. Not the small talk you make with your friend's parents. He asked about my thesis project, about the campaigns I'd worked on for class. He listened like my answers mattered, nodding at the right moments, asking follow-up questions that showed he was actually paying attention.

At some point, Sophie had wandered off to take pictures with other friends. I hadn't even noticed. I was too focused on the way Derek's hands moved when he talked about the library he'd designed on campus, how his whole face changed when he got excited about architecture.

"You actually care about this stuff," he'd said, sounding almost surprised.

"Why wouldn't I? It's interesting. The way you describe it, at least."

Something had shifted in his expression then. Something I couldn't quite name. He'd opened his mouth to say something, but Sophie came bounding back with her mom trailing behind, and the moment broke.

I shook my head, forcing myself back to the present. My bedroom. My suitcase. My complete inability to pack like a normal person.

That day had been three years ago. Three years of avoiding Sophie's family gatherings, of making up excuses about work and imaginary plans. Three years of telling myself I'd blown that whole interaction out of proportion, that it hadn't meant anything.

And yet here I was, heart racing at the thought of seeing him again.

I grabbed my laptop and opened it before I could stop myself. My fingers typed his name into Google almost on autopilot.

Derek Hayes Architect Colorado.

His firm's website came up first. Clean design, professional photos. There was a headshot of him on the "About" page, probably taken within the last year. He looked older than I remembered, but in a good way. The gray at his temples was more prominent now. He was wearing glasses in the photo. I'd never seen him in glasses before.

I clicked through to his portfolio. Community centers, libraries, a few private homes. Each project had a description in what I assumed was his voice. Thoughtful. Precise. You could tell he actually cared about the work, wasn't just in it for the money.

I found myself reading every word.

Then I googled his name without the business keywords. Just his name.

A few articles about projects he'd won awards for. Nothing personal. No social media profiles I could find. No wedding announcements or dating profiles or vacation photos.

I clicked on the images tab.

Most were professional shots from his website or architecture magazines. But there were a few scattered personal photos. One from a charity event. One from what looked like a dinner with colleagues.

No women hanging on his arm. No girlfriend in any of the shots.

Not that I was looking for that. Obviously.

I slammed the laptop shut.

"What are you doing?" I said out loud to my empty room. "What is wrong with you?"

I knew what was wrong with me. The same thing that had been wrong with me since my dad left when I was twelve. He'd walked out on a random Tuesday morning, said he was going to work, and never came back. No explanation. No goodbye. Just gone.

After that, I'd gotten really good at not letting people in. Not really. Even Jake, after three years, had never quite made it past the walls I'd built. Maybe that's why it had been so easy for him to leave. I'd never actually let him see the messy parts.

But Derek... that day at graduation, he'd looked at me like he could see right through all of it. Like he knew I was more than the polished version I showed everyone else. And that had terrified me more than anything.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Sophie: "Dad's excited you're finally coming! He always asks about you btw. Like every time we talk. It's kind of cute actually."

My heart started doing that stupid racing thing again.

He asked about me. Not just once, as a polite follow-up. Regularly. Every time he talked to Sophie.

I stared at the message, reading it over and over.

It didn't mean anything. He was just being nice. Just a dad checking in on his daughter's friends. That's what dads did. Normal, appropriate, fatherly concern.

Except my dad hadn't done that. My dad had left and never looked back, never asked how I was doing, never cared enough to even send a birthday card.

I typed back: "That's sweet of him. Can't wait to catch up with everyone."

Neutral. Friendly. Completely normal.

I went back to packing, forcing myself to focus. Sweaters, jeans, one nice outfit in case we went out somewhere. Pajamas. Toiletries. The usual stuff.

My phone buzzed again.

I almost didn't look. Almost just kept packing and pretended I hadn't heard it.

But of course I looked.

Unknown number. But I knew who it was before I even opened the message.

"I hope that Christmas at the estate won't be as awkward as I'm imagining. There's something I need to tell you when you arrive."

I read it three times.

Awkward. He thought it would be awkward. Why would he think that unless he'd felt something too that day? Unless those three years of me avoiding his family hadn't been as subtle as I'd thought?

And what did he need to tell me?

My hands were shaking as I typed out a response.

"Why would it be awkward?"

I deleted it. Too direct.

"Looking forward to it."

Deleted. Too casual.

"What do you need to tell me?"

Deleted. Too eager.

I finally settled on: "I'm sure it'll be fine. See you soon."

Safe. Non-committal. Gave nothing away.

I hit send before I could overthink it more.

Then I opened my laptop again and cleared my search history. Every single search about Derek, gone. Like I could erase the last hour of my life, erase the fact that I'd been cyber-stalking my best friend's father like some creepy person.

I closed the laptop and shoved it in my bag.

"This is going to be purely platonic," I said out loud, like saying it would make it true. "You're going to Colorado to spend time with Sophie. That's it. Derek is just... he's just Sophie's dad. That's all he is. That's all he can be."

My phone buzzed one more time.

I grabbed it, probably too quickly.

Derek: "Good. I've been hoping you'd say that. Safe travels, Maya."

I sat down on my bed, still holding the phone, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

Two weeks.

I was so screwed.