Page 75 of What You Wish For

“Kent Buckley,” I said, likeWho else?

She looked affronted. “Of course not. He went on a last-minute work trip to Japan.”

Oh. Oops. “Japan,” I said, nodding. “Wow.”

Just then, Babette and Clay came clomping down the porch steps and out to the car, rolling Babette’s suitcase behind them.

“You’re coming for Christmas!” Babette cheered when she reached Tina, holding out her arms and pulling her into a big hug. It was the happiest I’d seen Babette since summer.

“We’re coming for Christmas!” Clay echoed, and they pulled him in, too.

This was what it must be like to belong. You could utterly ignore people, and not be there for them, and let them down, and forget about them—but then, when you finally showed up, they were happy.

I didn’t have anyone in my life like that.

And if I did, I thought, I wouldn’t abuse the privilege. If I had anybody anywhere who loved me like that, I would be grateful every day. I would meet all that love with the same amount in return. It made me wish I didn’t have to try so hard with everybody all the damn time. It made me miss my mom—again, as always. It made me wish I had somebody—anybody—in my life who would love me no matter what.

Did this mean our weekend in Austin was off?

I stood by awkwardly, watching how unreasonably happy it made Babette to see Tina. And then it hit me: Tina showing up here meantmytrip to Austin was off.

I turned and pulled my suitcase back out of the car.

Babette noticed. “What are you doing?”

I threw Clay’s suitcase in the back. “These two should go with you,” I said.

“No!” Babette said. “We’ll all stay here.”

But I shook my head at Babette. “You need to get away.” Then I gestured to all three of them. “And you all need some time together.”

“We’ll just get a room of our own,” Tina said, not meaning it.

But I shook my head. “It’s fully booked,” I said. I had no idea if it was booked or not. But here’s what I did know: Nothing could be better for Babette than a little time with her real family. Nothing couldbe better for all of them than to make good use of Kent Buckley being halfway around the world. And nothing could possibly be worse for me than a whole weekend with Tina.

I’d rather spend my Christmas all alone watching Hallmark movies.

And that’s exactly what I wound up doing.

A few days later, I took a car service to pick up Duncan from surgery.

As promised.

It wasn’t a hospital, it was an office building—with Cryosurgery Associates taking up the entire third floor.

I wasn’t even entirely sure what cryosurgery was.

They were rolling Duncan out of recovery in a wheelchair just as I arrived.

Are you wondering if he’d worn his suit and tie to have surgery?

Because that’s a yes. Though the jacket and vest were off now, and lying across his lap, the shirt was open at the collar and untucked, and he was wearing the tie outside his collar, lying there loose—as if he’d just slipped it back over his head like a lei. There it was. He looked good neat and pressed, but he also looked good mussed up.

He squinted when he saw me. “Are you who I think you are?”

“Who do you think I am?”

“The librarian with the clown socks.”

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