Page 22 of Wasted On You

“Hey, actually, Weston?” I turn over my shoulder to look at the entrance to the store. “Do you mind if we pop in here really quick? It’s my dad’s birthday soon, and he’s been needing a new belt for ages. I think they have some on sale.”

“Sure.” He shrugs, following me through the doors. I let us split up, watching carefully as he meanders around the tables and shelves, seeing what he passes over and what gives him pause. I guess at his sizing, grabbing a few pairs of slacks and a couple of richly-hued shirts before ambushing him near the entrance to the changing room.

“I actually also need to pick up a few things for my brother. He’s about your size and build, and I want to see what they look like on a normal person and not one of these impossibly-shaped mannequins with the missing limbs and all that. Thanks!” I talk fast enough that he doesn’t have time to argue, hoisting my mountain of selections into his arms and then directing him to one of the curtained stalls.

I wait for him to walk out, and when he does, I’m blown away. The shirt is a beautiful slate blue, and it makes his eyes look far more vibrant than they usually do. The cut accentuates his muscle tone and height, as do the fit of the slacks. He looks professional, successful, and frankly, hotter than hell. Flashes of memories from earlier assault my senses. I swallow the lump of emotion stalled in the center of my throat. Most of all, he looks like mine.

But is he?

He shakes his head with a small laugh, watching the way I look him up and down. “You don’t even have a brother, do you?”

“Nope.” I smile. “I just wanted to make sure everything fit right before I bought it.”

“Beforeyoubought it? All of this?” He spins in a small circle, trying to grab the tag hanging over his shoulder so he can read the price. “Elowyn, you can’t be serious—”

“You need new clothes!” I insist with a wave of my hand. “You can’t wear the same two articles of clothing forever like a cartoon character. Everything else is probably pretty smoke and water damaged, and I’m not letting you bring that stuff into my nice-smelling apartment. I can afford it, trust me. I saved up the whole time I was with my parents, and you’ve seen my place. The rent is next to nothing. Besides, if you’re still salty about it later, wait for the insurance to reimburse you and you can pay me back.”

I make the offer to placate him, knowing full well when the time comes I won’t take a single cent, no matter how hard he tries. Weston deserves to look and feel good. For everything he’s done for me, and all that he will likely continue to do. He’s a good person—even if he’s a little rough around the edges—even if something is keeping him from seeing that inside of himself.

He narrows his eyes. “Okay. I’ll pay you back. And let’s get one thing super clear right now, Elowyn. I’m a man who can take care of himself and his girl. I’m willing to work hard.

I’m not a charity case.”

His girl.

Weston doesn’t push the point any further, politely looking away when the cashier totals it all and I hand her my card. He does insist on buying the cookies, though, snagging me a frosted sugar cookie the size of my face.

We don’t talk much on the ride back to the apartment complex. There are only a few more free hours before our shift starts, and the events of the day have left us both pretty exhausted. Weston dips into his apartment to grab a few toiletries, and it gives me a few minutes alone to decompress. I sit on the couch with my feet on the coffee table and my head resting on the cushion, eyes closed. I hear him come in, but I’m too tired to open my eyes. I’m sure he’ll figure things out on his own.

“Uh, Elowyn? What the hell is all this?”

Cracking my eyes open, I see Weston standing at the door to the tiny coat closet by the front entrance, holding a paper bag full of odds and ends in his arms. Crap. I forgot to tell him not to use that closet. I guess he would’ve seen it sooner or later.

He tilts his head to the side until his neck cracks. “Was there some kind of sale on wrapping paper that you just couldn’t pass up? Were you involved in a gift-wrap-selling pyramid scheme? Did Mrs. Claus die and leave you in charge?”

Begrudgingly, I get up from the couch and trudge my way over to where he’s standing, glancing over his shoulder. It isn’t a mess. Everything is neatly organized and labeled. It’s just… a lot. Covering every available inch are boxes and bins full of wrapping paper, gift bags, and tissue paper. They also contain cards and envelopes, spools of ribbon, and piles of bows. There are even a few colorful woven baskets and packets of neon Easter grass. The sight of it warms my heart in a way I can’t explain to a guy like Weston.

“I like to give gifts,” I admit, trying anyway. “It’s my love language.”

“Clearly. I just shopped with you.” Weston lifts the bags in his hands full of clothes to make a point.

I tug my lower lip between my teeth, suddenly feeling a bit of shame over this whole thing and not really knowing why. “And I’m good at it.”

He rolls his top lip under. “No arguments here. You just bought me the best-looking clothing I’ve ever owned.”

“And…” I pause, struggling to find a way to spin this so that I seem a little less thoroughly unhinged. “I help my friends. Because, let’s face it, gift-giving is really hard for most people!”

Weston thinks for a moment, still staring at the mountain of colored paper in front of him. “So you have a… gifting guru side business?”

“No,” I blurt. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I’m just a nice person. I like making people happy. Since when is there anything wrong with that? “They’re myfriends.”

“Who let you do the chores they don’t want to do for free and then take the credit?” He raises an eyebrow at me. I don’t rise to the bait. I don’t have to justify the things I do for people. He should know that better than anyone. “You’re like an onion, Elowyn. I keep peeling back layer after layer.”

My hands flutter to my throat. “Friends. Just helping out a friend or two in need.”

He pokes his head inside. “You know, people who aren’t friends would pay good money for this service.”

I laugh at the idea. “I doubt it.”

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