Page 185 of The Holiday Clause
Greyson smiled as he backed out of the lot. “Yeah.”
Upside-down days only happened when his dad was out of town on business. Haven used to come over with Wren and they would have breakfast for dinner then stay up all night watching old movies.
“This reminds me of that.” She held Rat on her lap with her little bag. “I brought my matching PJ set. I usually reserve them for a fancy sleep.”
“A fancy sleep?”
“Yeah, you know—when you wash the sheets and make the bed all fresh. It’s fancy.”
“So you make your pajamas match?”
“Well, it’s not like they’re coordinated with the bedding or anything that extreme. But I try to put some effort in.”
He chuckled. “Effort for who?”
“The bed, silly.”
“Right.”
When they pulled into his father’s garage beside his collection of antique cars, Greyson let the engine run, everything inside of him hesitating. This wasn’t home anymore. Hadn’t been for a very long time.
Wren placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I keep having the resounding thought that I don’t want to do this. Then I remember I don’t have a choice.”
“Grey, you always have a choice. But sometimes the right choice is the hardest to make.”
He looked down at Rat and grinned at how comfy he looked curled up at the apex of her thighs.Lucky bastard.“Thanks again for coming here with me.”
“Of course.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll do something fun. Soren’s on Dad duty, so I’ve got the day off.”
“Tomorrow’s the Santa Fun Run. We could go into town and bet on the winners.”
“It’s on.”
He carried her bag into the house, surprised to find it silent. Logan appeared in the hall. “Hey Wren.”
She hugged Logan.
“How was he?” Greyson asked, peeking into the den to find his father resting in the adjustable bed.
“I think he tired himself out around the twelfth phone call.” Logan glanced at the floral bag in Grey’s hand. “You staying the night, Wren?”
“I am.”
His brother’s eyes lit up. “Like an old school upside-down day?”
She smiled. “Dig out the waffle maker.”
She made breakfast for dinner for him and his brothers just the way their moms used to. As foolish as it was to eat waffles for dinner while dressed in pajamas, the act healed something in them and Greyson felt a closeness to his brothers and Wren that he hadn’t experienced in years.
After his brothers left, Greyson led Wren to the second floor. The house staff worked quietly downstairs, as they did every night while his father slept. Any cause for alarm, and they’d come get him.
Greyson opened the door to his childhood bedroom and waved Wren inside. She stepped over the threshold and scanned the walls, as if entering a museum, slow and reverent. His heart thudded against his ribs. He could fix a busted engine in an ice storm, and drag a buck out of the woods with his bare hands, but watching Wren look around his teenage bedroom? That disarmed him in ways he wasn’t prepared for.
The faint scent of cedar and damp earth filled the air. That coastal dampness never left Hideaway Harbor, no matter how much furniture polish the maids used. He liked it more than the briny air at sea, because it reminded him of home. Of Wren.
