UNDER THE WRONG MISTLETOE.

MADELINE'S POV

"I... I thought you left." I stammered, turning fully to his direction. "What... what are..."

Jeremy didn't answer my stammer. Instead, his eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened. The moment stretched, thick and heavy between us, the faint clinking of cutlery and the distant murmur from upstairs making everything else feel miles away. "What were you doing in there with Calhoun?" he demanded, stepping forward, the air between us taut with accusation.

For a second, I wanted to play dumb, to deflect, to hide behind the sarcastic walls I'd built my whole life. "With who? I... I don't know what you're talking about," I mumbled, hoping my voice didn't betray how badly my chest was fluttering.

He raised a brow, a sharp, dangerous tilt that made me flinch. "You really wanna play that game? Fine. I'll go out there and we'll see what your parents will say..."

My heart leapt into my throat. Oh God, no. Not like this. Not now. I waved my hands in desperation. "Okay, okay, okay. I'll tell you everything... when dinner's over!" My words tumbled out like a prayer, a plea for mercy.

"Why not now?" His voice didn't soften. There was no patience here, just that familiar, relentless, probing gaze.

"Because..." I exhaled, my hands twisting together nervously. "This place isn't safe, and we... we have to finish dinner first."

Jeremy's lips pressed into a thin line, eyes still fixed on me as though he could read my every thought. "Fine," he said at last, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, "but it better be solid." And with that, he stalked off, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

I exhaled shakily, forcing my shoulders to relax. God, I needed a solid explanation. Something believable, something that could keep me from being torn apart piece by piece in front of everyone.

When I returned to the dining room, the atmosphere was still buzzing with the final threads of conversation. Plates clinked, silverware scraped, laughter mixed with polite murmurs. But all eyes were on me the moment I stepped through the doorway.

"I'm sorry for taking so much time," I mumbled, my voice small.

"Don't be, you're not important in this dinner anyway," Mrs. Halston said, her words sharp and deliberate, her smirk cutting like a knife. I turned toward her, willing myself not to hiss or slam my hand against the table.

I slid into my seat quietly. No one else addressed me; they continued their discussions about the wedding - seating arrangements, guest lists, floral patterns. I tried desperately to blend in, to become invisible, but I couldn't escape the heat of his eyes on me. Calhoun hadn't once looked away since I had walked in.

I wanted to look casual. I tried, really I did. But every movement felt weighted, every breath stolen under the pressure of knowing what had just happened in the bathroom. The kiss lingered, the taste of him still on my lips, the feel of his hands pressing into mine.

Jeremy, on the other hand, had that knowing look. He was sitting across from me, subtly observing, like he always did. He'd known me since we were kids - better than anyone else. He could tell when I was lying, hiding, or even hiding from myself.

I bit my lip, trying not to squirm under his gaze. He always looked out for me, even when I was an ungrateful brat. Even now, he just watched. Waiting.

Time dragged, and the Halstons finally began standing. The air shifted, a sense of departure threading tension through the room. "Dinner has been nice so far; I hope we'll do this again sometime," Mr. Halston said politely, smiling at my parents.

Dad rose from his seat. "Thanks again for coming over. It's been... pleasant." His voice carried the usual stiffness, the careful diplomacy that seemed to surround him like armor.

Then, out of nowhere, Betty piped up, her tone bright and clear, piercing through the lingering tension. "I want to meet Calhoun again... I mean... to get to know each other."

Mrs. Halston's smile softened, her poised elegance flickering with approval. "That's a wonderful idea, Betty..."

But Calhoun interrupted sharply, like a blade slicing through polite conversation. "I won't be available. I'll be moving to Canada tomorrow, remember?" His voice carried finality, edged with subtle frustration.

Mom, always the negotiator, rose slightly. "It's okay, Calhoun, anytime you're free..."

"But moving to Canada is not that necessary," Mrs. Halston added smoothly, her tone rehearsed, practiced.

"Actually, it is," Mr. Halston interjected. "But one day wouldn't hurt..."

"Dad..." Calhoun glanced at his father, pleading with his eyes. "Of course it would."

Betty's face lit up as she stood and wrapped her hand around his arm, a gesture that made my chest tighten and twist uncomfortably. I looked away, forcing a smile, even as a part of me felt a strange, guilty satisfaction that it wasn't mutual. "Yay! I guess we'll see again tomorrow then," she said cheerfully.

Finally, the Halstons departed. Their car lights faded down the driveway, leaving a strange emptiness behind. Upstairs, Betty and Mom vanished, probably discussing wedding plans with giddy excitement. Dad settled into his chair with a magazine, distant and unread. The rest of the cousins disappeared to their rooms, except for Jeremy and me.

It was just the two of us left in the kitchen. And the tension crackled like electricity in the silent space.

I started on the dishes, methodically, almost mindlessly, trying to find normalcy in the clinking plates. Jeremy, however, decided to help. I caught him staring, smirk dancing on his lips.

"If you know you'll be glaring at me all night, then why bother helping with the dishes?" I asked, my voice half teasing, half wary.

He dropped a plate into the sink, the ceramic ringing sharply. "I've been wondering," he said, eyebrows lifting, "what possible reason could you possibly have to be... knocked up by your sister's fiancé?"

I froze mid-motion, the words crashing into my chest. Knocked up? The thought swirled in my head, firing waves of heat and shame. My cheeks flushed crimson. "Isn't that... what happened in there?" he chuckled, teasing mercilessly. "If not, why would you turn crimson at the mention of it?"

I turned away, grabbing a towel to dry my hands, trying to hide my embarrassment. "Can we not... like... do this here?"

"But no one's even here," he countered with a grin. "Come on, spill."

I sighed, resigned. I leaned fully against the kitchen island, feeling the wood cool beneath my palms. "Fine... I... let's say, I have a crush on Calhoun."

His jaw dropped, an exaggerated expression that made me roll my eyes. "So, you did get knocked up."

"No! Gosh, Jeremy?!" I whispered sharply, mortified. "What is it with you and getting knocked up?"

He smirked, unrepentant. "It'll be cool."

"For you or for me?" I asked, half joking, half desperate. But he only shrugged, that knowing, teasing shrug that said he wasn't about to take me seriously.

I exhaled, leaning back, letting the tension drip from my shoulders. "Listen," I murmured, voice softer now, "Calhoun and I knew each other way before I even found out that he was betrothed to Beth. You remember the bully and all that?"

His expression shifted instantly, realization dawning. "Wait... that long?"

"Yeah," I continued, voice trembling slightly. "And I didn't even think he'd still recognize me. I thought... that moment meant nothing."

Jeremy looked at me, wide-eyed, confusion painted clearly across his face. He perched on the edge of the island, elbows resting on his knees. "So... what now? Are you getting back with him?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I couldn't speak the truth even to him...my own best friend, my confidant...because I knew the answer: no matter how hard I tried to suppress it, my heart would always betray me, and I'd end up hurt, tangled in something forbidden.

Jeremy leaned back, exhaling heavily. "Look," he said finally, voice gentle but firm. "Whatever it is you're doing, just remember... it's your sister's fiancé we're talking about here."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Then... what should I do?" My voice cracked, betraying the uncertainty I tried to hide. "I don't want to hurt Beth. You know that."

He stood, brushing past me with the same ease and confidence he always carried. "The Maddie I know will figure it out herself, regardless of what other people think." He smiled briefly, that half-smile that reminded me why I trusted him more than anyone. Then he walked away.

I watched him leave, feeling the emptiness settle around me, heavy and suffocating. Maybe he was right. Maybe I could figure this out. Maybe I could navigate this storm of heartache, lust, and guilt the same way I always did - trusting my instincts, listening to the voice inside that told me what was mine to feel.

No matter how messy. No matter how wrong it might seem.

Even if it meant loving the impossible.