With my dad feeling better by Christmas Eve, I assumed that we'd continue on with his preplanned activities. We did for a while, drinking spiked cider and opening our presents a night early. He made a holiday worthy breakfast the next morning while I lounged in snowflake printed pajamas, letting "A Christmas Story" play on repeat through the day. Around noon he got a phone call, taking it in the kitchen since I was pretty focused on the movie despite having seen it every year, returning with giggles that were leftover from the call.

"Jin said we can head over for dinner around three." He reclaimed his seat next to me and stretched his arm around the back of the couch.

"Dinner?" I asked, wondering if they'd planned this without me all along or if it were a spur of the moment decision.

He nodded, laughing at a part of the movie as he split his attention between me and the screen. "Apparently he woke up with the urge to cook and hasn't been able to stop."

I wracked my mind trying to find a way out of attending, but it wasn't like I had friends in Rochester to visit and I'd already watched nearly every Christmas movie available on our streaming services over the past month.

With no way out I found myself dressed in light wash jeans and a chunky cream sweater, next to my dad in an Uber as snow covered scenery passed in the window.

Seokjin's house looked like those I used to circle in my mom's home magazines when I was a kid, dreaming of the perfect kitchen and rooms to dedicate to an office, oversized bath, and books. There wasn't a ding in the road with the closer we got to his neighborhood, houses in soft hues with a backyard view of Bamber Lake.

He lived at the end of the road, our driver in just as much in awe at the home as I was. We pulled into the driveway, leaving a cash tip when we were dropped off at front of the house painted in shades of gray.

"Just wait until you see the inside." My dad grinned, removing his gloves after ringing the doorbell. He'd visited twice before when they first met, Seokjin offering a couple days of fishing on the lake before my dad moved into the city.

The most savory smell wafted from inside when Seokjin opened the door, taking our coats to hang as we stepped into the foyer. I balanced myself with a hand on the wall while I unzipped my boots by the door, unable to imagine getting the hardwood floors dirty.

"I'm glad you could come. It'll probably be another hour or so until dinner. I got carried away." He chuckled, the tips of his ears red with a hint of embarrassment.

I tried remaining expressionless as we moved through a short hallway to the open space of the living room and kitchen, designed with ivory and gray tones that matched the exterior of the house. The chairs appeared untouched and electric fireplace below the TV provided a welcome layer of heat, an instrumental version of "Last Christmas" playing softly in the background through every room.

The kitchen was just as white as the ground outside, with an oversized marble island and bright finishes that currently held bowls and platters of half prepared ingredients. There were two pots heating at a low setting on the stove and Seokjin immediately went back to cooking, stirring one of the concoctions with a wooden spoon while my dad made himself comfortable in one of the barstools at the edge of the island.

There was a fully stocked bar against the wall between the kitchen and living room, white and brown liquors in pretty bottles on a shelf, glasses arranged in see through cabinets and a small refrigerator filled with bottles of wine. I leaned against the counter awkwardly, everything too pristine to touch.

"What's on the menu?" My dad patted his stomach, leaning further toward the island for a look while Seokjin sliced into a cabbage.

"There's a roast in the oven and short ribs on the stove. I've got rice and a pasta dish I wanted to try making. I just need to finish all the vegetables and get a dessert baking while we eat." He chopped with just as much skill as my dad, scraping the dish from a cutting board into another pot before transferring it to the stove.

I cleared my throat. "Can we help?" I asked, watching his mouth turn up at the corner.

"Help yourselves to a drink." He glanced up with a nod. It was easy to spot the scotch, held in a heavy decanter that made too much noise as I moved it from its spot on the shelf to the countertop, pouring the brown liquid into a short glass for my dad.

I kept my voice low as I set the cup in front of him, looking for an answer in his words and demeanor. "Are you still feeling okay?"

He nodded while pushing his nose into the rim to sniff the liquor before tasting. "I'm fine, Sellie. Relax, don't spend the day worrying over us." His reference to the idea that I worried about both of them didn't go unnoticed.

There was a clinking sound behind me and the pop of a cork. Seokjin cradled a wine glass by the bowl, keeping his other hand wrapped around a dark bottle in offering.

I took one look at the bottle's label, shaking my head as I recalled the glass I sampled during a vinyard tour while in Verona for a work function. Our guide had described the taste with words that felt like fluff and meant little for me outside of the knowledge that I couldn't afford it.

"You should save that for someone who can actually appreciate it." I laughed, ready to squat in front of the refrigerator in search of a cheaper alternative.

He shrugged, glancing at the handwriting on the label like it was the same boxed wine Faye and I often drank. "I don't know any difference. Plus, I'm sure it'll just stay there unless you drink it." The bottle made a glugging noise as he poured.

The burgundy drink swirled lightly in the glass when he passed it over so that I caught the sweet scent with my first sip, savoring the flavor before swallowing. "You don't drink wine?" I questioned just to bridge the quiet.

"I only drink occassionally since I'm in treatment. I already had one before you got here." He moved back to the kitchen, rinsing his knife before grabbing a handful of carrots to slice.

The sleeves of his sage sweater were pushed up to his elbows while he cooked, the smooth fabric loosely flowing at the bottom but pulled taut at his wide shoulders. I found myself gulping down my drink faster than I should have for such an expensive wine, my dad chuckling as I tilted the glass back to gather the last drop.

"You should show her the view of the lake while I finish up here. My neighbors were out ice fishing this morning." Seokjin spoke to my dad.

My dad clapped at the suggestion, always excited at the mere mention of fishing. He sprung up from his seat, rambling away while he went to the door to retreive our coats and shoes.

"Yes, the backyard was my favorite part of the house. It's the pretty during winter but I can't wait for fishing season so we can come back to visit." He raved, his fingers spread so that they held our shoes. I'd barely slipped my arms into my coat before he was scurrying toward the sliding glass door that led to the yard. I joined him, slipping my boots back on by the door before walking through the attached sunroom.

The lake already provided a beautiful view through the open windows in the house, but stepping off the porch took my breath away. Sloped steps led to a circle to host a bonfire, a small pier even further down providing access to the lake next to a covered boat. The body of water wasn't fully iced over, but coated in a layer of snow that carried across to weight down the branches of pine trees at the other side.

I held onto my dad's arm as we stood together, breathing in the crisp air in tandem. "I can see the way you feel about him now." He observed.

"I still don't think I can be with him." My voice was so low that I wondered if he could hear it over the wind.

He did, kissing the top of my head with a sigh. I could tell that he was searching for words of comfort but there were none. I tapped away the tear that fell from the corner of my eye just as we were interrupted by a deep voice calling out my dad's name from the neighbor's house.

Apparently he had the chance to connect with Seokjin's neighbor who was around the same age. They sounded like old friends as they dived into talking about their families and business ownership, so I took the opportunity to sneak back inside and warm up.

I pulled my shoes and coat off to leave by the door, catching Seokjin in the middle of singing along to "White Christmas," off track with the lyrics and coming in after the artist like he barely knew the words. He quieted after hearing the door close behind me, directing a bashful smile my way as I squatted in front of the fireplace with my hands out to reclaim the feeling in my fingertips.

My dad's sentiments still rang in my head and when Seokjin started up with his off tempo crooning again a feeling rushed through me that was proceeded by the need to get away from him.

"Where's your bathroom?" I spoke with an urgency that made it seem like I was seconds away from an accident.

Seokjin pointed toward the hallway with the end of the ladel he held. "It's the second door to the left." He answered.

I was already dialing Faye's number, pressing the phone toward my ear as I stepped into the sparsely decorated and too white bathroom. The instant chatter of people in the background when she answered reminded me that she was spending the holiday with a group of friends. "Sel, hold on." The noise faded as she assumedly moved into another room, changing to a low muffle as a mattress creaked beneath her. "Hi, the gift got here this morning so lets do an unwrapping on video together later tonight." She skated past any pleasantries to get to the first thing on her mind.

"Faye," I sat on the edge of the edge of the bathtub, brushing an exasperated hand through my hair, "I'm at his house."

Her understanding didn't require me to say his name. "How the hell did that happen?" I could hear the reactive perkiness in her tone.

"He invited us for Christmas dinner and of course dad said yes and guess what?" I asked though I had no intention of letting her guess, answering my own question. "His house makes that guy's house you dated while I was in grad school look like our last house in Chicago. He's in there cooking and there's music and he pulled out a bottle of wine that literally cost half your rent and–"

"You're overwhelmed." She interrupted me, measuring the rush of my breath and erratic way I spoke.

I tugged at the neckline of my sweater for some air with my reply. "I'm sweating, and it's not even about the house or the wine. It's him. He's perfect."

She knew without me explaining that perfect wasn't a good thing here. I wanted nothing more than to find his horrible jokes annoying rather than endearing, for him to show an ounce of arrogance at his obvious wealth, or to have caught him singing and found it anything but adorable.

"Okay listen, just get through today. A few hours and you'll be able to go back to the little bit of interaction you can tolerate. Put your hair up, sit away from him at dinner and convince yourself that the food is subpar." She went practical, several people calling out for her as she wrapped up with a final humorous and speedy tip. "Also, get out of his bathroom before he thinks you're shitting. I'm hoping that he gets better so you can live happily ever after and I don't want him to think you did that on your first time at his house. Love you, bye!" Her voice rang out, her never-ending humor a dose of comfort just before a knock at the door negated it all.