Page 38 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

“This one’s from me,” he says. Theresa hands me all the sheet music, and I straighten them while she rips into her next gift. Then I take the opportunity to open my last present, since I don’t particularly like people watching me while I do this. Theresa’s not going to be happy that she missed me opening the gift from her, but because of the lack of presents with the tagTO THERESA FROM ALEC, she’s not real happy with me right now anyway—I can tell by the cutting sideways glances.

It’s a red tie, and I chuckle as I pull it from the box and swing it around my neck. She’s always telling me to dress up more often, and Theresa’s not known for her subtlety.

Her fake smile twitches into a small real one as she looks me up and down. “Wear it for auditions. It’s a good-luck tie.”

I chuckle as she flicks it up into my face.

Grandma Carver opens her final one, and Jace opens his. All the while I can feel Theresa’s eyes drift over to me to see if I’m hiding one for her, but I put my acting classes to good use and hide my amusement as her silence gets more and more laced with tension.

“So,” Theresa says, looking straight at me, “is that all of it?”

I nod. “Looks like it. Hand me the wrapping paper and I’ll take it out.”

Theresa’s frown hardens into a straight line and she starts chucking loose wrapping paper at me. After everything’s gathered, I help Jace clear the table and Theresa shakes off her scowl and starts a light conversation with Grandma Carver about the best Christmas traditions she had growing up. Once the dishes are done, the ladies come in and Grandma Carver sets a kettle on the stove. It whistles a few minutes later, interrupting Jace’s entertaining story about his last day on the set of Landon’s movie.

“Hot chocolate?” Grandma Carver offers to me.

“Thank you, ma’am.” I haven’t had hot chocolate since I was about ten. The smell of the powder alone is bringing me back to my own grandmother’s house.

“Ma’am,” Grandma Carver says, holding out a piping hot mug. “You hear that, Jace? Manners.”

“Do I get any?” he asks.

“What do you say?”

“You are the most gorgeous woman in my life,” he answers with his hand over his heart, only to receive a massive eye roll. But Grandma Carver still hands over a mug

“Okay, kids. I have my own Christmas tradition to attend to. Stay as long as you’d like.” She pats Theresa and me on our cheeks, kisses Jace, and wanders out of the room. Theresa’s smile fades a little, and she gives Jace a questioning glance.

“Lots of prayer and talking to my parents,” he explains. “She likes to tell them how worried she is that I haven’t found a wife.” He laughs, but it sounds a little off. He doesn’t take a sip of his drink before he puts it down and walks to the foyer. “You guys can stay. I’m just heading out for a minute.”

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yep. Just my own tradition—shovel and salt the walk. The landlord doesn’t think it takes priority.”

“I’ll help.”

“One shovel.” He shrugs on his coat. “Don’t worry about it. I like doing it.”

He steps outside into the light snowfall, putting up his hood. The room is eerily quiet without the two noisiest people in the house. There’s also the fact that I can feel the hurt and anger rolling off Theresa in waves—all directed toward me.

She lets out a long sigh and shuffles into the living room with heavy feet. Her mouth is pressed in an adorably frustrated straight line as she puts her mug down on a coaster and flumps onto the plastic-covered couch. I discreetly fish around in my coat pocket before following.

“Nice Christmas,” I say, sitting next to her. The fire from the fireplace is dancing in her very narrowed eyes.

“Yep,” she says, clipping the word. I pretend to ignore it.

“I liked that card Grandma Carver gave us.” I blow across my mug of hot chocolate. “Pretty hilarious.”

“Yeah, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree in that family.”

“It sure didn’t.”

Silence descends on us, except for the crackling of the fire and Theresa muttering softly under her breath. She always talks, even when there’s nothing to say, and it’s not a bad thing. Not at all.

“And they remember presents,” she says after a few long seconds. She turns her eyes on me, and I meet them, playing the innocent, clueless male. “It’s nice to know that someone’s thinking about you when you have to spend Christmas away from your family. That’s a good friend right there.”

She puts her mug to her lips, and I can’t help but let my smile break through.

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