Page 16 of Christmas Wishes

“Yes, freaking way.”

“Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“Nah. I’m sure I’ll say something even worse to him tomorrow.”

I could picture Arlo’s exasperated head shake. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?” I asked.

“Say what’s in your head and not care what people think.”

My heart broke for him. There was a more assertive side within him. I’d seen it in glimpses and moments over the years. I hoped introducing himself to his family would help him bring out that part of him more fully.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. You know that I’m a lot for people to deal with regularly. Good thing I’m only here for a week, or Riggs might kick me out. I think I nearly broke him today. Poor guy.”

Riggs seemed like he needed someone to take care of him. I obviously wasn’t that person, but maybe he would find someone else who was. Someone to make sure he ate meals.

Arlo yawned. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll crash early. Talk tomorrow?” His pain must be receding enough to sleep.

“Definitely. Wishing you and your injured peen some rest. Good luck meeting your family tomorrow!” I doubted he’d do it right away, but I wanted to manifest that for him.

I knew it was complicated with Arlo’s mom not knowing he’d discovered his late dad’s identity, but he deserved to know the rest of his family. At least so he’d have a connection in case he had any medical need for more information. And if he met people who’d give him the love he deserved? Even better.

I thought about my family, who’d immediately adopted Arlo as their own when we met in college. I loved them. They were great people, but we had our own issues. In a family of six kids and what felt like a thousand cousins, everyone fought for attention. I wished the rare attention I received was for being charming or clever or successful, but it was usually for yet another thing I’d fucked up or quit. Beyond that, I was usually overlooked, and I hated that.

Getting away from them and Minnesota for a week would do me good. And it would definitely help me recharge before facing the full force of the family at Christmas and having to tell them I’d been laid off. Yet another job I’d fucked up in the shadow of my siblings, who were doctors, lawyers, and successful business owners. My parents never expected more from me, but I wanted to be more.

I wanted to be enough.

Chapter9

Riggs

I turnedthe newspaper page and folded it in half, then grabbed my mug for another sip of coffee. It was nice having a quiet morning before the frantic pace of the day. It was only Tuesday, but it felt like I’d worked a full week already. The aches in my body agreed.

My morning routine was the one time of the day when I could relax. It was early enough that I never crossed paths with my guests, and I could mentally prepare for the day’s projects and clients.

“Morning! Hope you slept well.” Keaton burst into the kitchen like the Tasmanian Devil. Where his curls had been calm and defined yesterday, this morning, they were frizzy and wild. He made a racket while pulling a coffee mug from the cupboard and starting the Keurig.

“You should get reusable pods. These things are terrible for the environment.”

I grunted. I’d been meaning to do that but hadn’t made the switch.

“It takes them hundreds of years to biodegrade, and I read that the emissions from the production process are pretty bad.”

Keaton continued to talk at me, not to me, while he bustled around the kitchen. I kept reading the same line on the page over and over. His presence got under my skin, but I didn’t feel annoyed. Andthatannoyed me.

“It’s way too early for me to be awake. I’m on vacation, for Christ’s sake.” He scooped yogurt into a bowl, then topped it with granola and sliced banana.

He paused, tilted his head, and stared off into space. “Is it a vacation if I’m laid off? I’m out of town, so that must make it a vacation, right?”

I loudly turned the newspaper page, hoping he’d get the hint. It backfired.

Keaton walked over to the table. “Print newspapers still exist? Huh. I thought they were all digital now. I’m surprised they deliver out here. What newspaper is that?”

Instead of answering, I angled the front page toward him. The paper came out three days a week, and those three mornings were precious to me. My ex used to tease me for sticking to the analog news, but I wasn’t reading the newspaper to stay updated on the happenings in Arizona. I appreciated the feeling of the paper in my fingers and having a break from my phone. Some days the damn thing rang nonstop.

“Do you have oat milk?” he asked while walking the Keurig pod to the trash.

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