Page 19 of The Bright Side of Christmas
“I love how you see the best in everyone, Wren, really, I do, but people do that shit all the time. And unfortunately, you’re just too sweet and kind to notice or question it.”
I stare at the text, confused.
Do people actually do that? Do people do that tome? I know I’ve become the person in town that can be counted on, but people only ask me when they don’t have another option, right?
I’m lost in those thoughts when Hallie’s concerned voice pulls me back into the present. “Uh, Wren, what is this?”
“What’s what?” I ask, shaking my head and setting my phone down, deciding I can answer later, especially when I see the genuine panic on Hallie’s face.
“Are you being threatened?”
“What are you talking about?” She waves a piece of paper, then I laugh, realizing she’s holding one of the ransom notes from Adam.
“What the hell is this, Wren? It’s creepy. Should we call someone?”
I shake my head, reaching for the three other notes I’ve received and handing them to her. “No, my nutcracker has been stolen and is currently being held hostage. It’s not a real threat or anything.”I don’t think, I don’t add.
“Stolen by who?” She sifts through the papers.
“My neighbor.”
Her concern has morphed into intrigue with this new piece of information. “The hot one?”
“The grumpy one,” I correct.
“Same difference. Why would he steal your nutcracker?”
“Because I’ve been sneaking decorations onto his lawn, and he doesn't want me to.” I reach for a cookie on the cooling tray, trying to distract myself from thoughts of Adam with its sweet, melty goodness.
“Oh…kay?”
I explain further, telling her about our back-and-forth of my putting decorations on his lawn and how, at first, he removed them, but for some reason, he’s stopped.
I leave out our nightly exchanges, since even though I’ve come to anticipate them, they might fuel her serial killer theories.
I also leave out how he told me he stopped taking them out because he likes watching the joy it brings me.Thatwould definitely fuel her hot-neighbor fantasies, which might be even worse.
“So it’s like a kinky elf on the shelf?”
I choke on the bite of a cookie I just took.
“It’s not kinky, Hal. My god, not everything has to be sexual,” I say once I can breathe again.
“A man is sending you Polaroids, and that man looks like Adam Porter. That makes it sexual by default.”
I let out a laugh and shake my head at my best friend. “I don’t think that’s how that works.”
“It is, trust me. I would know.” I pause, mid-bite, and stare at my best friend, trying to decide if she’s being serious. She gives me a mischievous look that makes me a little nervous. I open my mouth to ask a question, though I don’t know what it is, but she stops me before I can. “You know what we should do?” Her tone makes those nerves ratchet up further.
“I have no idea,” I say slowly. Hesitantly.
“We should break into his house. Try to steal it back.”
I stare at her, then shake my head. “Hallie…” There’s a warning in my tone, the kind a mother uses when she’s trying to be supportive, but also knows her kids are giving her the absolute worst ideas ever. In this friendship, I am always the mother.
“Oh, come on. It will be fun!”
I try to appeal to her common sense. “I don’t know if breaking and entering is the right choice for a man who, not long ago, you said was probably a serial killer.”
