Mr. Knight/A Jordan Knight Fanfic ✔️

26

26. irony

I spend Christmas in Palo Alto. With a newfound conviction to be present and invested in my life, I finally claim the family that has been waiting for me for years.

Phillip, Victoria, and Allison are as overjoyed as always to have me, only this time I embrace the gift. I participate wholeheartedly in every silly tradition they have, and enjoy myself more than I ever imagined I would.

There's checkers and charades and peppermint hot chocolate on Christmas Eve, and on Christmas morning we stuff ourselves with peppermint pancakes and chocolate bacon (I had no idea that was a thing). After breakfast, we settle in the family room to open presents, which Victoria distributes one at a time based on the alphabetical order of our first names.

The traditions continue in the afternoon with a completely insane amount of home-cooked food. Catatonic and happy, we spend the evening watching Christmas movie classics and sipping peppermint eggnog.

By the time my mom drives me to the airport the following day, I have plans for dinner with Allison when she gets back to Seattle, gifts crammed into every corner of my carry-on, and a vehement desire to never eat or drink anything flavored with peppermint again.

After securing a promise to visit in a few months, my mom shoos me off with tears in her eyes.

I smile the whole flight home.

Not until I let myself into my dark house does loneliness return. And oh, it returns with a vengeance. In lieu of impulsively adopting a pet, I counter the emptiness around me with the only outlet I have.

I write. Page after page in journals and on my laptop. I have no idea what I'm writing about, or whether it will eventually take the shape of a novel. But I'm writing and that's enough.

It has to be enough.

~~

New Year's Eve, Claire and Griffen pick me up at eight and we head downtown for dinner and drinks at our favorite Italian restaurant. Along with the multitude of happy couples around us and our empty fourth chair, we ignore the elephant in the room: they're leaving at the end of the week for Houston.

After delicious chicken cacciatore—and three stiff drinks—it's easier to forget that my best friends are moving away. Griffen is especially helpful in that department, as he's the most jolly drunk I've ever had the pleasure of drinking with. His accent also thickens, which amuses the sober Claire to no ends.

It's close to eleven by the time she manages to corral us into the car. Somehow, Griffen and I end up in the backseat together. As Claire drives us through the glittering night, he belts out his favorite country song, only he's drunk enough that he forgets most of the words.

Laughing so hard I'm crying, I don't notice where we're going until Claire parks in a tiny slot in a narrow alley.

"That sign says Reserved, Claire-bear," I say, leaning between the front seats.

She grins at me. "Tonight it's reserved for us."

Squinting, I can just make out the faded business name on the sign drilled into the brick wall. My eyes widen with recognition, then veer to her happy face.

"Oh my gosh, this is so perfect," I squeal. "I can't believe I didn't think of it."

White Harp Pub.

She laughs. "Our last hurrah in our school-days bar. I couldn't resist."

"White Harp?" Griffen hoots, finally catching up.
"Aww, hunnybear, this is the best surprise ever."