Page 28 of Holiday Tides

Normally, Aldon wears all black but manages to look less cater waiter and more mafia boss. Since he banned my head-to-toe plaid suit last year, I went for a subtler look tonight—evergreen slacks, white collared shirt with a burgundy tie, and a light-gray sweater layered over it.

“When your wife wakes up crying the morning before your annual Christmas party thatsheinsists you host every year, even though you’d rather shove a screwdriver into your eye socket, you offer to wear something to match what she’ll be comfortable in.” The way his pinched expression melts into an affectionate gaze when he glances at Jane makes my mouth curl. “We just had a baby. She shouldn’t fit into her old clothes yet. But reassuring her didn’t work, so I suggested this.”

Jane’s Mrs. Claus dress is loose and flowy with cozy white slippers beneath it. Perfect for the new-mom-turned-holiday-hostess.

“You both look great.”

This time, Aldon does grunt, drawing a chuckle from me.

When another couple pulls him and Jane away, Summer comes to stand beside me, facing the bustling living room. “It’s a good thing there are no kids at this party, or he’d be setting parents up for extensive therapy bills.”

I crack up, shaking my head at my brother, who’s struggling to cross his arms over his bulbous fake belly. When I catch Summer smiling at me, my breath hitches.

Honestly, it’s been doing that since I picked her up. I can’t seem to regulate any of my body functions tonight—my heart galloping, my fingers tensing, my mind repetitively thanking the universe for the opportunity to take Summer Owens to a Christmas party. Since we walked in the door, she’s been a beacon of golden light, effortlessly comfortable with everyone while asking questions she genuinely wants to know the answers to.

Also, her smoking-hot holiday dress is entirely too distracting. Though it’s modest, with its long sleeves, high back, and knee length, the way the green velvet fabric hugs her body keeps testing my restraint. I want to guide her by the small of her back, slide my hand over her waist when I introduce her to someone, and run my palms down her arms all at the same time. The deep color also makes her blue eyes look darker tonight, more intense.

AaaandI must be imagining the heat suddenly flooding Summer’s gaze. My exhausted brain is playing tricks on me because I haven’t fed it since breakfast. I barely had time to shower and get changed earlier.

“Are you hungry?” I clear my throat of its sandpaper scrape. “I haven’t eaten in hours.”

Whatever was there, she blinks it away. “Sure. Let’s eat.”

Over the next hour, we eat, and I introduce Summer to everyone I know. Meanwhile, I make a mental tally of how many times I’ve made her laugh. Good news: I’m winning by a landslide. Bad news: I’m becoming addicted to the pearlescent sound of it. There’s no doubt that I could spend the rest of my days doing whatever’s necessary to ensure Summer’s happiness.

“Stop doing that.” She pokes her finger in my direction after a particularly ridiculous story.

I splay my hand over my chest. “Being disarmingly charming? I couldn’t stop if I tried.”

Dina smirks as Summer rolls her eyes.

“You can’t stop Nick at Christmastime,” Dina says, pointing her champagne flute at me. “Have you seen the wetsuit?”

Summer glows like they’re sharing the best secret. She’s been doing that all night, becoming instantly intimate with whomever she’s talking to. “It’s crazy, right?”

“When it comes to Christmas, he’s like a kid with a secret stash of Pixy Stixs.”

“More like he’s snorting hot cocoa dust straight from the packet,” Summer adds.

“Excuse me.” I tilt my chin down. “I only snort crushed candy canes. I have standards.”

Dina guffaws that boisterous laugh of hers. “I’ve never asked you, but is there a particular reason you love the holiday?”

“Other than it being the best one—ask any kid in a three-block radius?” I pause, smirking. “Honestly, it’s because of Summer. She wasMiss Christmasthe entire month of December—humming holiday songs, decorating her locker, wearing hideous Christmas sweaters.”

I take Summer’s, “Hey,” and playful push to my shoulder in stride.

“It was infectious. You’d end up standing a little straighter, feeling a little lighter after seeing her. We’d be stressed about semester exams, but Summer always made sure we remembered others. She organized Angel Tree fundraisers for the school to ensure local kids had presents and winter clothes beneath the tree.”

The memory of my father’s quirked brow when I used my credit card to give thousands to fulfill Christmas wishes slips before my vision. At the time, I played it off as altruism, but I was as selfish then as I was being now. I did it to make Summer smile.

“I never realized how cold this time of year can be without someone to brighten it.” Though my chest feels like it’s vibrating, I force myself to meet Summer’s gaze. “Once she was gone and that joy went with her, I wanted to try and be that person for others.”

Her mouth opens and closes before a soft, “Nick,” escapes. I don’t even notice that Dina has excused herself, only that the delicate holly clip holding back Summer’s golden locks has lost a strand. It brushes close to her dark, fluttering lashes. It’simpossible not to step forward, to not capture the silky lock in my fingertips and slide it behind her ear. Giving in, I allow my hand to lightly trace her shoulder, to feel the velvet of her dress all the way down her arm until my hand hovers above hers. Hers twitches, her fingertips brushing mine as I suck in a staggered breath. I’m a second from intertwining our fingers when my name is called from across the room.

“Come on, Piano Man. Regale us so we can get on with the gift exchange.”

“Piano Man?” I want to kiss Summer’s scrunched brows even more than I wanted to hold her hand.

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