The Christmas Letters

by Jenny Proctor

So why is my body reacting like he’s the sun and I’m a freaking sunflower?

“The stakes are high, Drew,” she argues. “Throw caution to the wind!”

I’ll keep my flirting on standby until further notice.

Happy isn’t the right word. I’ve seen him happy. He just doesn’t smile much. He’s Roy Kent minus the swear words. Stanley Hudson minus the indifference. Dr. House minus the cutting insults. He perpetually looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world—or at least our family—on his shoulders.