Page 34 of Season of Gifts

Chapter eighteen

Alice

Dinnershould’vebeenreadytwenty minutes ago.Longer would’ve been better.Alice had promised Henry last night that they weren’t letting food go to waste, and she couldn’t lie to him, so today was do-or-die for the chicken and broccoli hanging out in the fridge.

The recipe she’d found in a quick search at lunch promised a simple stovetop meal done in thirty minutes.But that didn’t count the time finding Henry’s stash of onions in the pantry or dicing them or wiping tears out of her eyes only to smear onion juice in them.The kitchen sink did not have the same handy attachment as the eyewash station in eighth-grade chemistry.

Then sautéing and stirring the onion bits between chopping the yummy parts off the broccoli stalks while trying not to slice or burn her fingers.And now the chicken, more chopping, and at least she’d remembered to do the veggies first so the knife wouldn’t be contaminated with chicken juice.One thing right today.

She’d meant to get out of work early, but that didn’t pan out.The ride home, she’d spent clinging to the subway pole with the crook of her elbow while telling Ollie and Nat they didn’t have a fresh update yet.Henry kept the info to a minimum on his calls.She couldn’t push him; Jay did enough of that, leading with empathy that was probably overwhelming when Henry needed the structure of treatment details and rehab plans to keep him focused on not falling apart.

Mom had been so exhausted after Dad’s accident.Asking how he was the second she got home from the hospital was like twisting the knife when the news wasn’t great.If Henry had more to say, he would say it; until then, they needed to give him space.Keep their talks upbeat.

The final chicken breast turned into a pile of mostly same-ish sized pieces.The supposed five-minute prep time had expanded into thirty in a flash, and the stuff still had to cook for another twenty-five.It would be just barely possible for them to make the eight o’clock entry time on their tickets to the light festival at the zoo.Jay had been so fucking happy opening Henry’s card at breakfast, and now, what, she was gonna make him miss out because she couldn’t follow a damn recipe.

Get the chicken in the pan, just keep moving—

Splat.

No.No, no, sonuva—“Fuck.Fucking FUCK.”

Footsteps on the stairs morphed into a sprint.Jay, in the clothes she’d optimistically laid out for him, came running in from the front hall.“What’s—”

“Don’t come back here.”Disaster surrounded her feet.

He skidded to a stop on the other side of the island.“Is it glass?Are you okay?”

“It’s chicken.Raw chicken.”She used her clean hand to click off the burner before the onions could start smoking.No point now.“Our dinner is on the floor.”

One fucking careless motion.Too much speed, and a cutting board heavier than she’d expected, and her wrist decided not to do its fucking job today.Momentum and angle meant a fabulous arc of tiny chicken pieces covered the tile between the island and the counter.Juice ran down the cutting board in her hand, adding to the mess.She shoved it into the sink, biting back another round of curses as she washed her hands.

“No problem.”Jay, in a wide circle, headed for the fridge.“I’ll grab another package, and you can chop while I clean.”

“That was the last package.”Maybe Henry had more in the freezer, but thawing would add more time they didn’t have.Her phone chimed a warning.Six forty-five.They needed to leave in fifteen minutes to catch the Orange line.The drive that would’ve taken thirty minutes in Henry’s car would take them an hour or more on transit.“And we don’t have time.We have no time, and no dinner.”

Explaining to Henry how her incompetence had ruined his Christmas gift for them would be oh-so-fun when he called tonight.

“Okay, so we’ll get zoo food.It’ll be great.”Grinning at her, Jay reversed direction, making for the tickets propped against the calendar basket.“They’ve gotta have more than what they feed to the animals.Big pitchfork of hay is not my thing.”

“We can’t leave this mess.”She rubbed the back of her forearm against her forehead.Fucking onion residue.“The smell’s gonna attract bugs.I need to mop before it gets sticky.”

Backtracking again, Jay jogged over to the pantry.“Mop.On it.I’ll do that, and then we’ll go.”As he swung out the bucket, his stomach rumbled.

“Can you get by with snacks?”Henry would’ve done appetizers.For fuck’s sake, she should’ve been thinking of that an hour ago instead of picking out the deep green, fitted shirt for him.Jay would’ve been better off with food after his day of deliveries and therapy, both exhausting in their own way.Untucked tails and soft jeans didn’t give him the protein his body needed.“You should eat.Just…”

Henry would’ve planned better.Henry didn’t have a forty-minute commute home.He had contingencies on contingencies.She solved problems all day at work, and this wasn't even half as complex, so why was she frozen in a puddle of chicken water?She could just take the mop.Or get Jay something to eat.Or tell him what to do.But for fuck’s sake, she should be doing more than—

Sniffling.She tipped her head back.Couldn’t even blame the onions.

“Hey, hey…” Jay picked his way closer, dancing around the mess she’d made.“Alice, it’s okay.I swear.We’ll do the zoo thing another night.”

“Can’t.Tickets are timed.”Ugh, her voice sounded all thick and garbled.“And Henry was so…” She tried to get the words out, flailing her hands like that would help.Useless.“Last night, he said how happy he was that we were keeping up with the gifts.”

Jay captured her hands, folding them together with his in a big knot.He squeezed hard, and she dropped her chin, abandoning her study of the ceiling.

He held a steady gaze on her, his face serious, his eyebrows drawn together.“You need a spanking.”

Ohh, they were not fucking going there.

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