Page 79 of The Bright Side of Christmas
“Wren, I?—”
Then her phone rings, and we both startle. She steps back and lets out a little laugh.
“That’s lunch,” she says, wiping at her cheeks and shaking her head. “Can you go out and get it for me and bring it into the main room for everyone? I think I need a moment to collect myself.”
“Of course,” I say, then press my lips to her forehead before she turns and moves toward the bathroom.
As I’m walking toward the door, I realize that’s the first time she’s ever asked me to do a favor for her without apologizingor feeling guilty. And while it’s not those three little words, it almost feels better.
TWENTY-NINE
If it wasn’t obvious before, I think I’ve cemented that I will do absolutely anything for Wren. It’s why I spent the entire day with her, prepping for tomorrow’s holiday festival outside in the freezing cold with her brothers, making the best Christmas gift I could think of.
It’s my small way to prove my commitment to the town in a way Wren would understand. Well, maybe the second-best gift, but the second one is going under the tree.
Turns out, she and Hallie were right: her brothers don’t actually hate me. After watching them interact for six hours today, I realized that constant poking and prodding is simply how they treat each other. I just couldn’t understand it because I don’t have experience with brothers, which is what I think they now, in some twisted way, consider me to be.
I think the whole King-brothers-hating-their-little-sister’s-new-boyfriend-on-principle thing was also appeased when I got Jesse’s number from Hallie and told him my master plan before asking for his and Madden’s help. It was a big task to do in one day, so I needed all the help I could get.
An hour passes after her brothers help me clean up and head out so as not to ruin the surprise, and I spend it pacing, bothindoors and out, keeping an eye out for her arrival home. I do this both to catch her when she gets home and to check how obvious my surprise was if you weren’t looking for it. I’m inside when her car pulls into her drive almost an hour later than anticipated, and I feel like a kid excited for Christmas.
I can’t help but smile, wondering if this is how Wren feels every day.
I send her a text telling her to come over when she’s finished putting away her stuff, but she doesn’t respond right away. After a few minutes, I send her another, and when that one goes seemingly unopened, I decide just to go over and drag her ass over here for our date night. I don’t feel the kind of embarrassment I usually feel when showing someone I’m excited about something because I’m headed to arguably the most excited person in the world.
Plus, she is going to love this.
But when I knock at the door, she doesn’t greet me with a smile and a kiss in casual clothes like I expect for our night in. Instead, she flings the door open quickly, then moves back to the kitchen, the tails of her hair bow floating behind her as she does.
“Hey, babe, come in, come in!” she says, sliding long tubes into a giant trash bag. There’s a massive pile of wrapping paper on the table, along with ribbon and bows, and a dozen reels of tape.
I stare at the mess, confused.
“Uh, what’s going on?” I ask, staring at that giant pile of things. All of them are red, green, and holiday patterns. “Everything okay? I texted you.”
She turns and grimaces at me before continuing her task. “Shoot, sorry, I haven’t checked my phone. I’m just trying to get some things together before I head back to the community center.”
I halt and blink at her.
“Back to the community center?”
“Yeah, I have to help wrap the gifts for Santa.”
I stare at her and feel my chest sink to the ground. “I thought you had the night off.” An unfamiliar dread is curling in my gut, disappointment mixed with frustration.
“I did, but Stevie needed to head out early to help with her kids, so I offered to take over it for her.”
I blink at her and try to bite back the flash of anger that moves through me, swift and unexpected. “You offered?”
She pauses what she’s doing, clearly hearing my tone, and stares at me with a furrowed brow.
“Well, yeah. If I hadn’t, it wouldn’t have gotten done, and there’s enough to do tomorrow morning that adding that would be cutting it too close. Santa’s coming tomorrow, and the gifts have to be wrapped and assigned.”
“You offered,” I repeat, and this time, it’s not a question but a statement. Now the words are low and pointed, and I can’t seem to keep the frustration out of them. But I’m finding I also don’t want to. That’s how I feel, after all, and a part of me wants Wren to know that.
“I didn’t really have a choice, Adam. If I didn’t, it wouldn’t get done. That’s how it always goes.”
I shake my head and let out a disbelieving laugh.
