Chapter 11Two hours later, we burst through our apartment door as if we were a storm.
Tate’s family had understood. We had been around for the most important part of the day—Santa and the kids—and there would be hours in between the breakfast that we all ate casually in front of the tree and the Christmas dinner we would be having that night at around seven.
“There’s more than enough for your friend, too,” Mary had told us. We had only called Matthew a friend. It wasn’t to diminish his hopeful place in our lives, but to merely hedge our bets. We were still figuring out the exact language with which to call one another. I wanted to call him our boyfriend in Czech, but I didn’t recall that word. I’d need to look it up—or ask Matthew when we saw him.
But I knew it would work. We needed som
