Page 24 of Wrapped with a Beau

People who are estranged from their own families are usually weirdos...

Guys like that don’t usually commit. You want to get serious, right?

Oh, don’t get us wrong, he’s a nice boy, but he doesn’t really fit in with us, does he?

Worse had been what followed, the limbo moment of waiting for his girlfriend to protest, to stand up for him. Instead, she’d just sighed. Like her sisters were merely echoing things she already knew. He still remembers the swift pang in his chest, the way his heartbeat pounded in his ears as he tiptoed his way back upstairs to hastily repack, because until that profoundly humiliating moment, he’d thought he did fit in.

He’s never made that mistake again. He never will.

That January, Ves and Claire rang in the new year with a breakup. A week into the semester, she reunited with her high school boyfriend. By the time they all graduated college a few months later, she was engaged. Ves unfollowed her the second he saw the announcement on Instagram. She didn’t owe him a heads-up, but being caught by surprise just brought all his old feelings of inadequacy screaming back.

Ever since that fateful Christmas, he’s tried again and again with other partners, but it always ends the same way. With the cold confirmation carved in stone that Ves is never, ever going to be the one.

The food arrives, piping hot and smelling delicious, but he doesn’t enjoy it as much as he would have five minutes ago. It’s another reminder that one conversation is all it takes to send him back to being that unwanted little boy, waiting on a stoop for someone to let him in. By now it’s an old wound, one that doesn’t feel quite as lethal as it did that morning with Claire’s family in Connecticut.

No, now it’s more like picking at a scab.

He can get through this. He always does.

He slices through crisp, crackling puff pastry and takes a bite of satisfyingly fatty pork, gloriously flavored in some kind of sticky, sour-sweet marinade that sends him straight to umami heaven. Having something to do helps most of his tension ebb away.

The rest of the meal passes in relative harmony and quiet—for him, at least. The group of elderly women order what looks like the entire dessert menu and move on to comparing notes on their grandchildren, while the three women closest to him talk about Christmas plans. Elisha tries to draw him back in, but he resolutely keeps eating, answering short and to the point during the brief moments she catches him without his mouth full. Eventually, she gives up.

Solana scoops some of her mash on her fork. “Food’s good, right?”

Ves finishes chewing before agreeing. “Just like you said. A perfect recommendation.”

“Would you take another from me?”

He can feel Elisha’s eyes on him. “About the menu? I’m too full for dessert.”

“About the housing market,” Solana says bluntly. “I’m going to level with you, Ves. Now isn’t the greatest time to list a house. And I sell houses, so I know what I’m talking about. Piney Peaks is pretty year-round, but it’s at its most picturesque in winter. Now, imagine you stick a for sale sign in your yard. What do you think happens next?”

The answer seems obvious, but it still feels like he’s about to fall in a trap. “...Someone buys it?”

“Wrong!” Solana widens her eyes. “New buyers take one look at our sweet little town and wonder why anyone would want to leave during”—she finger-quotes—“the most wonderful time of the year?”

He supposes that makes sense. “Does that scare them off?”

“Oh yeah. Big-time.” She nods vehemently. “You wouldn’t believe how many offers fall through. There’s kind of a moratorium on selling houses until after the new year. Not that I’d tell you what to do! But if you were my client, I’d advise waiting. Small tourist towns are a whole different beast.”

“Wow. Um. Yeah, thanks. I had no idea, so that’s really good to know. I can’t do anything until then, anyway. There’s too much to do around the house.”

“Oh yeah?” Solana brightens. “No worries, then. But when you’re ready...” She pulls a business card from her purse and offers it to him between two fingers in one slick move.

He pockets it, something about the logic not quite ringing true. “Of course, I’ll be talking to my real estate agent, too, but thanks for the heads-up. It’s much appreciated.”

“It’s entirely my pleasure,” she chirps.

“What are you two whispering about?” Elisha asks, looking between them with a furrowed brow.

Solana winks. “Secrets.”

“Tell me, really.”

“I did, babes. Secrets.” Solana smirks at Ves, nudging his arm like they’re in on it together.

He would just have told Elisha, but it’s amusing to see her pout, so he goes along. They return to their meal, and his plate is the first one clean when the door opens, a tinkling bell cutting through the chatter.

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