Page 116 of Fumbled Into Love

“It’s a Ninja Creami,” Jack says. “You can make ice cream with it.”

“Oh.” This is glorious. Without a second thought, I rip the box open, searching for the instructions. “This is life-changing,” I murmur, and everyone laughs. “andawesome.”

Forcing myself to set down the box, even though ice cream concoctions are flying through my mind, I grab my envelope and hand it to Maren.

“Oh,” Maren draws out the word, “What is it?” Maren tears open the envelope, silently reading. Her eyes lift, and there are tears.

Lots of tears.

A shocking amount of tears.

“Holy shit,” Sawyer says in awe, “You made her cry.”

“What did you buy to make her cry?” Henry asks, scarfing down another cookie.

“I donated money for her to join a shark tagging trip.”

It didn’t seem worthy of this many tears. I know it’s something she would enjoy, and the money goes toward research, which she also loves.

Another tear falls on Maren’s cheek, and she launches herself at me, throwing my new ice cream machine to the side.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!”

Jack smiles, shaking his head before quickly mouthing,how much did that cost?

I shrug as Maren pulls away. Let’s say I did not realize how expensive conducting research can be.

“Best gift ever,” she whispers before grabbing another box covered in shark wrapping paper and handing it to Sawyer. “Merry Christmas!”

Sawyer rips the wrapping, the paper flying across the room. She lifts the small, square box, showing the room.

“Are we…?”

“Bobbleheads?” Maren asks, and Henry nods. “Yep. Had them specially made. It’s you two dressed as Westley and Buttercup.”

Sawyer shifts the box.

“The resemblance is uncanny.” A small card slips out of the box. “Oh! A spa trip, too. Thank you, Maren.”

“I should be thanking you. Making the bobblehead was so much fun.”

Sawyer rises, and Henry sneaks another cookie and shoves it into his mouth in a single bite. I huff a laugh as Sawyer hands a bag to Declan.

He’s been quiet tonight like he’s observing all of us.

Declan lifts a small frame from the bag and his eyes shine. He spins it around to show the group photo of us at Maren and Jack’s wedding earlier this year.

“There’s more,” Sawyer presses and Declan reaches into the bag. “How did you…” he trails off, reading the front of the hardcover book. His eyes meet Nathalie’s and she nods, sniffling as she fights tears.

I’m missing something.

He flips the book around, and I read the cover.

Morales family recipes.

“We also added our own,” Sawyer says, gesturing to Nathalie and Maren, “but most of them are Paolo’s.”

Declan holds it tightly to his chest. “Thank you.”

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