A Christmas to Remember

Chapter 7: Unspoken Truths

Downstairs, Elena’s mother and Steve were busy setting the table, the clinking of silverware and soft hum of Christmas carols filling the air. Her mother, a woman with a warm yet commanding presence, was arranging a centerpiece of pinecones and candles when she looked up and noticed them, completely unaware of the tension that lingered between her and Adam.

"There you are,” she said with a kind smile. “I was beginning to think you were going to miss dinner.”

Steve grinned as they approached. “You guys taking a tour of the whole house or what?”

“Just making sure Adam has everything he needs,” Elena said smoothly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

“Perfect,” Steve said, motioning toward the table. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat!”

Her mother beamed, gesturing for everyone to take their seats. “You’re in for a treat, Adam. I made the pot roast Steve always raves about.”

“Mom’s pot roast is legendary,” Steve chimed in as he plopped into his chair. “You’re going to love it.”

Adam smiled politely, his gaze flickering briefly to Elena before settling on the plate in front of him. “Looking forward to it,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual enthusiasm.

Elena sat down across from him, feeling the weight of his presence more than she cared to admit. As her mother and Steve launched into an animated conversation about a neighbor’s over-the-top Christmas decorations, she picked at her napkin, avoiding Adam’s gaze.

But it was impossible to ignore the electric tension between them, a current that neither the warmth of the room nor the laughter of their companions could dispel.

This wasn’t going to be as simple as pretending, Elena realized. Not when the past was sitting right across the table, staring back at her with a mix of regret and longing.

Dinner stretched on longer than Adam would have liked, the clatter of cutlery and bursts of laughter doing little to drown out the thrum of his heartbeat. He’d barely touched the pot roast on his plate, despite Steve’s mother’s constant encouragement. Across the table, Elena avoided his gaze with the precision of a trained spy, her focus seemingly locked on the glass of wine in her hand.

“Adam,” Steve said, pulling him back to reality. “My mother is very happy you're spending the holiday with us.”

Adam’s fork froze midway to his mouth. “Uh, yeah,” he muttered. “Thanks for having me.”

“Of course,” Steve’s mother said with a warm smile. “We’re happy to have you. It’s nice to see someone pull Steve out of his little bubble for once.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

Elena gave a tight smile but said nothing, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her glass.

Adam could feel the tension radiating from her. It matched the storm brewing inside him. He needed to talk to her, to clear the air, to understand why fate had twisted them together in the most inconvenient way possible.

As the conversation swirled around him, Adam made his move. “Steve, where’s the bathroom?”

Steve waved a hand toward the hallway. “End of the hall, to the left.”

Adam stood and brushed past Elena, leaning close enough to murmur under his breath, “We need to talk. Now.”

Her eyes snapped to his, a flash of defiance breaking through her composed facade. She set her glass down with deliberate slowness. “Excuse me,” she said to the table. “I’ll be right back.”

---

Adam waited near the staircase, his pulse pounding as he heard Elena’s approaching footsteps. She appeared a moment later, her expression unreadable as she folded her arms across her chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.

“Me? What am I doing?” Adam’s voice was low but sharp. “You’re the one acting like we didn’t—”

“Stop,” she interrupted, glancing nervously toward the dining room. “Not here.”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him up the stairs, her grip firm despite her smaller frame. They entered the guest room, and she shut the door behind them, spinning to face him.

“What do you want from me, Adam?” she demanded, her voice trembling with frustration.

He stared at her, the weight of her words crashing into him like a wave. “Answers,” he said finally. “You disappeared. No explanation. And now you’re here? With Steve? What the hell am I supposed to think?”

Elena’s eyes softened for a moment before hardening again. “I didn’t owe you an explanation. We were strangers. One night. That’s all it was.”

Adam stepped closer, his voice lowering. “Was it? Because I can’t stop thinking about you, Elena. And don’t tell me you’ve forgotten either.”

Her breath hitched, and for a brief moment, her defenses crumbled. But she quickly rebuilt them, stepping back and shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. Steve can’t know. Neither can my mother. Ever. They wouldn’t understand.”

“Why not? What’s so bad about us—”

“It’s not just about us,” she cut him off, her voice thick with emotion. “There’s more to this than you realize.”

Adam frowned, his frustration mounting. “Then explain it to me.”

Before Elena could respond, there was a knock at the door.

“Elena? Adam?” Steve’s voice called. “Everything okay?”

They exchanged a panicked look. Elena took a deep breath, smoothing her hair and stepping toward the door.

She cracked it open, her face carefully neutral. “We’re fine, Steve. Just… talking.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but shrugged. “Cool. Dessert’s ready when you are.”

As his footsteps retreated, Elena turned back to Adam, her mask slipping just enough to reveal the fear in her eyes.

“This isn’t over,” Adam said firmly.

“No,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not.”