Started as His Girlfriend (Sequel to "Started as His Tutor")

Genie in a Gravy Boat

My frozen fingers attempt to curl up from under the paper box while a plastic bag of presents swing back and forth, smacking into the side of my leg. As I trudge up the driveway, some snow plops into my boots, dissolving into water and soaking into my socks. Once I make it up to the door, my hands are too frozen stiff to press the doorbell, so I use my elbow instead.

Mrs. Miller answers the door in a dark blue, lacy long-sleeved dress. It is elegantly long, though it was probably unintentional as Mrs. Miller is quite short and the dress looks to have been designed to be knee-high.

"Oh, Wendy. You must be freezing. Come in quickly," Mrs. Miller ushers me in, giving me a hand with the box in my hand.

"That's a Panettone I made. It's an Italian holiday bread," I explain, seeing how surprised Mrs. Miller was when he say that it was lighter than a cake.

"That sounds so good. It'll be perfect for dessert!"

"Where's Vincent?"

"He's at the dinner table. We're about to start dinner."

"Oh, sorry I'm late," I apologize, having planned to come early and help set up.

"No worries. Is your family okay with us stealing you for Christmas Eve?"

"My dad and sister like having a horror movie marathon on Christmas Eve, so I'm glad I don't have to stay for it this year. My dad was wondering if we would steal Vincent for lunch tomorrow if you don't mind."

"Of course not."

"I'll be right there once I put these presents under the tree."

"Aw, what a sweetheart. You didn't have to bring gifts."

"It's no problem at all." I take out the presents and stack them neatly to the side of the tree, since a mass of presents was already occupying the space beneath the tree, while Mrs. Miller goes back to the kitchen with the sweet bread.

Shortly after, I make my way into the kitchen and turn to the dining table. Six faces turn to stare at me. At the end and center of the table is Mr. Miller, whose face falls flat when he sees me. To his right is a man and woman, who I'm inferring are Maddy's parents, and then Maddy. Vincent sits at the other end next to her and then Veronica, leaving only two empty chairs to the left of Mr. Miller.

The men were all dressed in nice, crisply ironed suits, including Vincent, while the women were in elegant dinner party dresses. Even Veronica had ditched her tutus for a cute, red dress. Meanwhile, I was standing in some old black leggings, a linty over-sized knitted cardigan, and knee-high wool socks. I might as well have gone in my pajamas.

"Take a seat anywhere you like," Mrs. Miller says, tossing a salad on the kitchen counter before bringing it to the table and placing a bit into the small plates already set out onto the table.

No was no way I was sitting next to Mr. Miller, leaving the chair next to Veronica as an option. As I sit down, Mrs. Miller takes the chair beside Mr. Miller and there's a long pause. There seems to have been a conversation, but it was forgotten once I arrived. I'm just as flustered, not knowing that Maddy and her parents were going to be here as well. I've only mentally prepared myself for Mr. Miller's snarky comments, but now I feel like I have two more potential Mr. Millers in front of me. Maddy and I weren't on good terms either, ever since she became the president of the cooking club.

Veronica taps me on the shoulder and motions me to give her my ear. She covers her mouth with her tiny little hand and whispers, "Wanna trade seats with me? You can sit next to Vincent."

Before I can reply, Veronica announces to the table, "I wanna sit next to mommy!"

"Behave and stay where you are," Mr. Miller immediately shoots own the request, and Veronica sinks back into her chair.