Page 23 of The Gift Rarely Given

I wrap my arm around his, and together we walk out of my house and to his truck. I usually don’t expect gifts on Christmas Day, but I find myself closing my eyes and wishing for one this year. Like that freaking hit song—all I want for Christmas is him.

14

CAN’T TAKE IT BACK

WINTER WONDERLAND, MICHAEL BUBLÉ

Alex

“Are you having fun?”I ask Livie while we’re slow dancing. We’ve been at the gala for hours now. We had a delicious dinner and participated in the auction. I bid on some items, but the only two I won were an egg holder for my mom’s kitchen—it matches her decor perfectly—and a ridiculous teddy bear Livie said would be a perfect Christmas gift for Laurie. She said Laurie acts all grown but she’s a sucker for teddy bears, and Livie would love to bring her a giant one for her to snuggle with on the hard days of her treatment. I donated a signed football and I was shocked at how many people bid on it. At the end, it went to a couple who came to say hello in person. Apparently, I’m their son’s favorite player and he was heartbroken when I retired. We made plans for me to hang out with their son soon, and they left with giant smiles on their faces.

“It’s been an incredible night, Alex. I know you saidpeople think you’re an ass, but really people love you.” She has her head laying on my chest and her chin tilted up to look at me.

“I think it’s the Livie effect—people are usually not this nice to me.”

“Oh, stop, is it the Livie effect or is it the fact you’ve been smiling all night? You’re so damn good looking Alex that you’re intimidating as fuck until you smile. I can guarantee that’s why people didn’t approach you before.”

“So, the Livie effect indeed.”

“What on earth, boy?”

“I only smile this much when I’m around you. So, yes, the Livie effect.” We continue swaying to the soft piano rendition of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.”

“I want to talk about something,” I tell Livie. I’m hoping that since we’re in public, I can muster up the courage to tell her what I’m feeling for her. I don’t want to scare her off, obviously, but I think I need to tell her how much I love spending time with her and that I would love to continue this past Christmas Day.

Before I can say anything, she replies, “I know, I know. We need to make a plan for Christmas Eve. My mom is already asking a million questions and I really need to prepare you for it. I need her to believe this is real so she can back off and I can go back to my life. We should hang out tomorrow after my shift so I can give you the rundown of things.”

So I can go back to my life. I guess she doesn’t feel the same way. I thought for a moment that I saw the same things in her eyes that I’m sure mine are showing, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe where I thought I was seeing love, all I was seeing was lust.

“Yes, that sounds like a plan,” I reply in a clipped voice.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, but it’s almost over. At least, on your side, things seem to be looking up, right?” Livie asks as she lifts her head from my chest. Her eyes are searching for something in mine, and I wish I could just be brave and tell her: while social media wise they are looking up, if she disappears from my life in three days, things will be anything but fine.

“You didn’t drag me, Shortie. I offered,” I say.

“You know, I always assumed you called me Shortie because I’m short. But I’ve been meaning to ask if there was another reason,” she offers, biting her lower lip with a half-smile on her face.

“Remember when I said you smell like strawberries?” I ask and she nods. “You remind me of Strawberry Shortcake. Sweet, cute, vibrant, and you smell like it, too. So yeah, my own little shortcake.”

“You’re such a dork,” she teases, lowering her eyes and smiling to herself.

“We’ve established that already.”

The song ends and we walk back to our seats. Livie takes a sip of her red wine and I wish I could say I do something other than stare at her but I can’t. I’m a goner and in so much trouble. I need to figure out a way to be okay when the arrangement is over, but at this rate, I’m not sure it will happen.

“Do you want to go see what desserts they’re hiding in the kitchen?” she asks.

“What? No, we already had dessert,” I reply with confusion.

“Yeah, but they always have good ones in hotel kitchens. Come on, let’s see what we can find.” Livie stands up, leaving her purse and her phone on top of the table, and I follow right behind her. She moves with ease through thehallways, pulling me behind her until we cross a door that says Staff Only. She keeps walking like she owns the place and nobody bats an eyelash at either of us. At the end of the dimly lit room, there are some silver double doors. She pushes through them and even though it’s pitch black, she keeps walking.

“Livie!” I say in half a whisper, half a shout.

“Shh, shh, come on. I’ve been here before. Don’t ask why, or how I know, but we’re almost there.” She hits something with her hip and shouts, “Fuck!” while stopping for a second before continuing.

“Are you okay?” I ask, not letting go of her hand but getting close to stopping her because this is crazy.

“Yeah, just a bump on the hip. Here, this way,” she directs, as she pulls me toward the small door at the back with light shining through a little window. She rattles the handle and after a hard yank, she opens the door. She pulls us both through and now we’re in the middle of what looks like an industrial pantry. No, not a pantry—more like a mix between a fridge and a pantry. It’s slightly cold on one side, but where we’re standing there are some boxes and shelf stable items.

---