Page 20 of UnLucky Christmas
Grant looks at me and furrows his brow. “Fine,” he says flatly.
I watch as Macy drags her brother to the tree.
She digs in one of the bins and hands him a silver angel ornament. His expression softens as he stares at the ornament in his hand. Macy leans her head to the side and wraps her arm around him giving him a side hug. He climbs one of the ladders, and since he’s so tall he’s able to put the angel near the top of the tree.
“Grant is always a breath of fresh air,” Chad says out loud with a sarcastic tone.
“I’m guessing you guys don’t get along?” I ask curiously.
He shrugs. “Let’s just say we have different personalities.”
I nod. “He and Macy are so different too.”
“Night and day,” he agrees.
I look back at the tree. Grant has climbed down the ladder and hugs Macy. She dabs the corners of her eyes while he picks up his glass and walks outside to the backyard.
It’s obvious we all just witnessed a sweet sibling moment between them, which has caused a lump to form in my throat.
I spend the rest of the evening talking to Chad. He makes me laugh a lot, which is nice after everything that’s been happening in my life.
“So, Macy mentioned you just got out of a relationship.”
We’re sitting on the massive sectional couch, which also happens to be the most comfortable couch I’ve ever sat on.
I cringe. “Yes.”
He places his hand on mine, which shoots a warm feeling through my body.
“I totally understand how that is, and I don’t want to put any pressure on you.”
I smile. “Thanks, but I’m doing okay.”
He raises one eyebrow.
“So, does that mean you’d be interested in having dinner with me?”
I nod. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”
He punches the air and then drops his arm immediately.
I giggle.
“That’s cool,” he adds casually. He leans in closer to me. “We have an audience.”
I glance over to see Macy tapping her fingers together like she’s just masterminded a plan of world domination.
The evening is winding down, and a lot of the guests have left. There are still some boxes of ornaments, so Macy has recruited the remaining guests to fill the empty branches on the tree. She’s climbed the ladders to rearrange, and I catch glimpses of tears in her eyes.
“This tree is unbelievable,” I say as I tilt my head back to take it all in.
Macy takes a picture and types something on her phone.
“This is nothing,” she exclaims. “My mother’s trees were always perfect.”
Hearing her say that reminds me of my own family. My grandmother and mother loved to decorate for the holidays, hence why my own mother made such a big deal about me not getting a real tree. I wonder if she even cares about that anymore now that she’s embarking on a new life.
“I have pictures. Follow me,” Macy exclaims.
