Page 21 of The Crush of Christmas Past
A few beats later, he clears his throat and pulls his attention away. “Will someone tell me why I was lured over here?” He hitches a thumb toward his niece, who is happily devouring her second cupcake. “Something about a babysitting crisis?”
“Well…” Willow’s mouth pulls into a pout. “I promised Jovie we’d see Santa this afternoon, but I got called in for an induction. The department is understaffed because of that terrible flu going around, so I have to cover for one of the nurses. Mom and Dad are going to the Johnsons’ dinner party, Ash just got roped into shooting it, and Ro and Lix can’t be trusted to keep a plant alive between the two of them, so…”
“You want me to take her,” Theo deduces.
“Please.” Willow leans in, pressing her hands together in mock prayer. “You’ll secure the coveted title of Best Uncle Forever.”
“Hey,” Asher protests, though a grin tugs at his lips.
“No problem,” Theo says, like the request doesn’t require a second thought. He leans in, swiping a bit of blue icing from Jovie’s cheek with a nearby napkin. “What do you say, kiddo? Wanna hang out with your favorite uncle tonight?”
“Hey!” his brother repeats. “Wait.Actually…” He pauses, as if loading a reckless idea. “Isla and I were planning a date to the Christmas market.”
“We were?” The question slips out before I can stop it. I hadn’t intended to throw him under the sleigh, but could he at least warn me before broadcasting his delusions?
“Yup.” He nods enthusiastically. “Then I got my trigger-happy fingers twisted into helping with this anniversary party.”
“No date for us.” I sigh, feigning disappointment. “That's too bad.”
“No—it’sgreat.” He taps the dimple in his chin. “Now you’re free to help Theo.”
“I am?” I ask at the same time Theo grumbles, “She is?” He sounds offended. As if spending time with me might be hazardous to his health.
The feeling is mutual.
Which is why, once again, Asher should loop me the fuck in.
“You, Theo, and Jovie go see Santa,” he says to me. “I’ll meet you once I wrap. How does that sound, Snowflake Siren?”
The answer that comes to mind isn’t fit for polite company. And if my fake boyfriend—who is currently skating on the thin ice of no longer being my best friend—can read my thoughts in my narrowed glare, he doesn’t let on.
“More hands could come in handy.” Willow winces as Jovie snatches another treat. “Theo might appreciate some backup when the sugar crash hits.” She turns to me with a look that’s equal parts begging and playful. “Want to serve on the frontlines of the frosting fallout? Maybe you can even nudge Santa into steering my ambitious girl toward a toy unicorn over an actual mythical creature.”
“Sure,” I say. “I’d love to spend some special time with Jovie.” Toddler tantrums don’t scare me.
Alone time with Theo, though?
There’s no armor thick enough to get me through that frustration-ridden battlefield unscathed.
Eight
Theo
ThelineforSantawinds through the town square, weaving past booths stacked with artisan goods. Isla, Jovie, and I are caught in a blur of colorful coats, wind-flushed cheeks, and wide-eyed anticipation. The warm aroma of roasted chestnuts and spun sugar permeates the air, unleashing a wave of nostalgia.
It hits hard—even for a Grinch like me.
Jovie skips ahead, twirling to a mash-up of a nearby carousel’s lullaby and a jazzed-up “Jingle Bells” blasting from the main stage. The sparkling garlands draped overhead catch the sequins on her coat, scattering light in every direction. Powered by her frosting-fueled high, she’s fireworks personified.
“Reindeer! Reindeer!” She points toward the massive wooden sleigh at the head of the line where carved statues of Rudolph and his crew stand on guard. “Can I pet them?”
“Soon, sweetheart.” I catch her mittened hand, steadying her before she barrels straight into the stroller brigade ahead of us. “Almost there.”
We’re five families away from meeting the big guy in red. Jovie’s countdown started at twenty. An hour in, her math skills are still going strong. Her patience, on the other hand, is fading fast.
“Can Santa bring me a unicorn?” She jumps so high I’m starting to suspect her boots are spring-loaded. “One with wings and a sparkly horn that shoots out hearts?”
“Like Stardust?” I ask.
