Page 46 of I Choose You
“What are you doing here?” I asked. She left yesterday to go back to Connecticut for the holidays. I hadn’t wanted her to go. She didn’t need to be around assholes who belittled her and put her down. She was smart, driven, kind… nothing like the cold, uncaring world she was raised in. But it wasn’t my place to say anything. Her relationship with her parents seemed strange to me, but it was what she knew. Just sweeping issues under the rug and pretending everything was fine all the damn time.
“My parents are in DC,” she answered. “I was just driving around, and I saw your truck out front. What are you doing here?”
“Just catching up on some things. Killing time. What do you mean by your parents in DC? Are they not going to be home for Christmas?” We walked toward each other, meeting in the middle of the foyer. Claire shook her head at me, her lips in a tight line.
“Nope. Better offer came up, I guess.” She shrugged like this was no big deal. “My mother called last night. One of the Supreme Court justices is throwing a big holiday party today and invited them to stay for Christmas. They took the first flight out this morning.”
“Un-fucking-believable.” I watched her face intently, looking for any sign of how she was feeling. She was good at putting on a happy face, but I knew to not always believe it. I couldn’t figure her out this time. She looked disappointed, but not sad about it. “Well, my sister Lydia isn’t coming for Christmas this year either, and I know my dad’s upset about that. Having you there will make him feel a little better.”
“Reid.” Her eyes widened, the blues highlighted by the setting sunlight coming through the windows. “I can’t go to your family Christmas.”
“So, what’s your plan for Christmas? Lay around in bed and eat boxed mac and cheese?”
“No. I’m just going to make myself some chicken and mashed potatoes and watch Christmas movies on Wyatt’s obnoxiously large television.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to push her on this. For now. But there was no way in hell I was going to let her sit at home, alone, on Christmas while everyone else wascelebrating. “You ever use a nail gun?”
Claire looked at me like I’d lost my mind for a second, and then she laughed. I loved that sound. Completely unrestrained. It wasn’t little or cute. It was loud, raw, and honest. My chest puffed up a little at having been the one to make her laugh like that. “No. I most definitely have not. Why? Are you going to show me how?”
“Yup,” I said, popping thepsound. “Come with me.” She followed me to the row of bookshelves where I had been working. I picked up one of the wooden trim pieces and the wood glue, applying a thin layer to the back of the trim.
“Here. Hold this in place right there.”
Her fingers climbed over mine as our hands switched places. I grabbed the nail gun and placed a few nails in strategically located places that would be easy to hide. Claire jumped at the sound of the gun. I tried not to chuckle at her, but when she faced me with laughter in her eyes, I couldn’t hold it back. She was so damn cute.
“Okay, this time, I’ll hold the piece, and you can nail it in,” I told her.
“Seriously? You would let me near you with that thing?”
“It’s not as scary as it looks. Here…” I grabbed a piece of trim, applied the glue, and held it in place with one hand. Handing Claire the nail gun, I let her take the lead, my larger hand wrapped around her smaller ones. “Right here. Just pull the trigger when you’re ready.” I lined up the nail gun where I wanted her to shoot it, holding the gun steady as she gripped it with two hands. She pulled the trigger and let out a scream.
“You did it. See, it’s not that hard.”
“Can I do another one?” Her eyes bored into mine, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. She looked so hopeful. There wasno way I could tell her no, even if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to watch her as she concentrated on the perfect nail placement, as she jumped at the sound of the gun even when she was the one pulling the trigger. I wanted to hear her little yelps and then listen as she laughed softly at herself in enjoyment.
“We’ve got plenty more to do,” I told her, gesturing to the pile of trim pieces I had laid out.
We worked together on a few more pieces, me lining them up and Claire nailing them in.
“Why isn’t your sister coming home for Christmas?”
“She’s been seeing this guy, I guess. I don’t think any of us knew anything about him, but all of a sudden, Lydia is saying that she’s going to Ohio to spend Christmas with this dude and his family.” I didn’t like it. The whole thing seemed like it came out of nowhere, and something about it just didn’t sit right with me. But Lydia was a grown woman—if she wanted to spend the holidays with her boyfriend’s family, that was going to have to be fine.
“You don’t like it. Your family not being together for the holidays,” Claire stated matter-of-factly.
“No, I don’t. And I wasn’t kidding earlier. My dad really would love having you at our house. Why don’t you come to dinner tonight? It’s only Christmas Eve, so that barely counts, and there’ll be a bunch of people there. You won’t be the only non-Wilder in the crowd, trust me.” I gave her my best puppy-dog eyes. It had been a while since I had to break out that look, but it seemed to be working. Claire sighed. Her resolve to spend the holidays alone was slipping.
“If you’re sure.”
“I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise,” I told her. “Let’sstop here. Gives us some time to clean up before I pick you up.”
She helped me neaten the stacks of remaining trim that we didn’t get through and put the tools and supplies away. My plan was to get through all the trim that I had brought with me this morning, and looking at the stack that remained, I couldn’t even be upset about it. I had fun working alongside Claire, teaching her, helping her. It was worth the diminished progress, no contest.
* * *
Knocking on Wyatt’s door still felt weird. I had been here more than a few times since Claire had moved in, but it was a habit to just walk in when Wyatt lived here. Claire answered the door, wearing a red sweater dress over a pair of sheer tights. The dress was probably supposed to hit mid-thigh, but Claire was taller than average, which meant the dress hit nearer her upper thigh. Still, only a small bit of leg showed because a pair of heart-stopping, tall, black boots covered her from above her knees down to her toes. The added height from the heels of her boots only shortened her dress even more.
I swept my gaze along her, drinking her in, then slowly made my way back up to her face. When our eyes met, she offered me a knowing grin. Damn straight she should know she looked fucking hot.
