Page 23 of One Small Secret

I set Axley down and he toddles over to the Christmas tree, pulls on one of the cheap, individually-attached limbs, and plops down on his diaper-padded bum.

Ruben has his gift in his hand, and I’m tempted to send him on his way with it. He can open his tacky mug at his house, under his professionally decorated Christmas tree, and he and Ben can have a good laugh about how pathetic my present is. Ruben will toss the mug aside and shake his head. And I gave Axley a Mercedes!

Ruben pulls off his coat and drapes it over one of my kitchen chairs.

His sweater isn’t hiding his arms very well. Come on, sweater, you have one job: to be bulky enough to hide the fact that scrawny Ruben Palmer hasn’t been scrawny since he turned seventeen. The knots and braided weaves are all there, but somehow, they still manage to rise and fall with each curve of his arms.

I’m certain my ratty, cut-up sweatshirt is doing nothing for Ruben. I won’t ever win in a contest of not being distracted by the other. I’d rather win at speech. It just sucks that that victory was ten years ago. And I doubt he's feeling the effects today. I, on the other hand, need sunglasses that block out sweaters instead of the sun. Sweaterglasses.

Ruben slides off his shoes, strides over to the tree, and places the bag underneath it. I’m still just standing awkwardly in the doorway. The chance to convince him to leave has passed. “Make yourself at home,” I say with just the slightest touch of sarcasm.

He smiles back so big that his stupid dimple shows. “I plan on it.”

He grabs his stack of presents and sets them on the coffee table. I kick into overdrive, throwing off my coat and shoes in a split second. My sweatshirt slides off one shoulder but I ignore it. No way am I letting him sit on the sofa first. If he wants to sit next to me, fine. But it won’t be my decision this time.

I plop down and pull my sweatshirt back up over my shoulder. A moment later he joins me.

My body dips toward him.

Or does he dip toward me? I check the slopes of our legs. Nope, I’m definitely the one dipping. Of course I am. We're sitting on a plush, sinking sofa and he weighs more than I do. It’s science.

Ruben points at the stack of presents. “Should we start with the biggest one? It’s for Axley.”

“Axley gets the biggest gift?” I paste on a pout.

“Last time I checked, you were frustrated that I got you anything.”

“That was before I got you something. Now that I’m prepared, I’ve got my hopes up. It’s not every day that Ruben Palmer gets me a present.” His full name slips out, because, well, it was the perfect chance to use it. Ruben bringing presents isn’t such a crazy thought, but Ruben Palmer? I.N.S.A.N.E.

He doesn’t flinch or anything, so I don’t think I’ve hurt his feelings, but my brain finally catches up to what he meant outside the Gas n’ Sip.

“I could bring a present every day, though, right? As long as I give you ample notice?”

“Four days at least. A week during the holidays,” I answer, without skipping a beat.

“Alright, consider this your warning. Expect a present from me in one week.”

What is up with Ruben tonight? I’m struggling to keep up. “A New Year’s Eve present? Who does that?”

“Yes, a New Year’s Eve present. I’m warning you, so order something off of Amazon asap.”

He says “asap” as if it's a word, and for some reason, it takes me back to our debate days. It was just the type of thing that would have docked him points. He was always trying to be charming in an arena that didn’t play by those rules.

Luckily for high school Cadence, I had no idea how to be charming.

I put my hand to my chest in mock horror. “As if I would order you something off of Amazon.”

His eyes narrow. “You would definitely order me something off of Amazon.”

“Fine. But it’s not because I don’t care. It's just so dang easy.”

He shrugs in agreement. “And they have everything.”

“Exactly. What if I want to get you one of those singing fish to mount on your wall? You think they have one of those at the Gas ‘n Sip?”

“Probably not.” He sits forward to scoot the gifts closer and his free hand lands on my knee. The gesture is so casual, he probably isn’t even aware he's doing it. But my knee is aware. Very aware. “Unless that’s what is in the bag. Because if the Gas ‘n Sip had that, you’d better have bought it for me. I’ve always wanted one of those.”

For some reason I believe him, and I know what I’m putting in my Amazon cart tonight. He's probably joking about getting me a present, but I’m not going to be caught unprepared again. “Sorry.” I shrug my shoulders. “The closest thing to a singing fish was a tuna fish sandwich, and as much as I wanted to buy that for you, Axley stopped me.”

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