Page 21 of Storybook Christmas

Finn studies my face. “It’s okay, Lacy. I’ve had a lifetime to get used to it.”

“I feel like such a jerk.” So, that’s why Finn understands feelings so well. He’s been through them all—a lifetime of learning ways to cope with the loss and grief that comes with never knowing one’s parents. I poke at my pizza, no longer hungry.

He touches my shoulder. “Just because I lost my parents doesn’t make the way your sister treated you okay. You have a right to be hurt by her.”

“You’re so understanding. And wise.”

“And you don’t have to be sad for me—I had a great upbringing. My grandma rocks, so it all worked out.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “She was an elementary school principal, so we didn’t have much money. But she always made sure I had everything I needed, and she taught me how to bust my butt for the things I didn’t. She’s the one who made me fall in love with books.”

“Really? How?”

After he finishes a bite, he says, “Every day after school, I’d sit in her office as she worked long hours. She’d give me books to read, then she’d play a game of trivia with me afterward. She’d purposely get the answers wrong, so I’d correct her. I pretended to hate it, but I secretly grew to love it. She never let on like she knew, but of course, she knew. She’d still bribe me with fun-sized KitKats.”

“Excellent choice. And she sounds like one great lady.”

He smiles wistfully. “She is. Grams taught me that when one door closes, another opens. And if it doesn’t, you make your own damn door.”

“I like your grams already.”

“Everyone likes Grams.” His face goes serious. “She mentored me to get good enough grades to earn a full ride at Duke.”

Okay… so Finn went to Duke University on scholarship. And he’s stripping. Why? Not comfortable asking that, especially after the pain in his face when I questioned him about his stripping last night, I say, “Duke, huh?”

“Yeah. I loved it.”

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my purse to see a missed call from Eleanor. I don’t feel like talking to her right now, so I put the phone back.

Finn reaches into his coat pocket and takes out two pieces of dark chocolate cake that are smashed between two faux-crystal plastic plates. “I took these from your parent’s party.” He flops one on a plate and hands it to me.

I guess we’re shifting away from the Duke topic, so I say, “Nice! I see you got your gram’s craftiness.” I take the cake. “You said dessert better be off the hook.”

“Right. So, no pressure for you.” After he swallows, he says, “A perfect ten.”

“Phew.” When I dive into mine, I agree—it’s gooey heaven. After finishing, I glance out the window, and I can’t believe my eyes when I say, “Is itsnowing? In Georgia?”

Flakes are falling from the sky and coating the streets and cars.

“It is.” He stands and extends his hand to pull me up. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Let’s—I have something I want you to see.” I take it.

9

Dear Deer

OUTSIDE, THE SMELLof peppermint coffee wafts in the air from Queen Bean’s holiday mocha. As we walk, hands stuffed in our coat pockets, snow crunches under our feet.

When we’re passing my car, I point inside the window. “The bottle of Glenlivet is in there. It’ll take the nip off.”

“Good call.”

I unlock my door and grab the bottle, and we duck behind the open car door as we each take a slug off it like rowdy, law-breaking teens. This—all of it—is something I would’ve never done before. But I’ll do it with Finn, and, as I’m discovering, it’s pretty wonderful.

After our shot, we continue on our stroll, taking in the crisp air, the chill dulled just a touch by the whiskey.

A pair of animal eyes in the nature preserve’s canopy of trees stops me in my tracks. “Look!” I point to them.

“Shhh,” Finn whispers. “It’s a fawn.”

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