Page 35 of The Bright Side of Christmas
It’s all I’ve been able to think about since the moment I pinned her to my living room wall and then her front door.
I came to this town to be alone, to find my inspiration, and to hide away from the constant pressure and distractions of my life as well as the holiday season itself. Instead, I’ve spent more time with other people in the last three weeks than I have in a year. I can’t stop thinking about my annoying neighbor, and I couldn’t escape Christmas in Holly Ridge if I tried.
Wren doesn’t respond, but Hallie does.
“Well, you know as well as I do, Wren takes on any project someone asks of her.”
“That’s ending,” I say, turning to Wren, whose jaw is tight with frustration. “I’m tired of watching you work yourself to the bone for other people who probably don’t appreciate your kindness.” I turn to Hallie, who seems to be the only one in this town who sees how Wren is overdoing it. “The other day she fell off a ladder hanging up my neighbor’s lights.”
Hallie’s eyes go wide, and Wren’s jaw goes tight.
“Why was she hanging up Jed Campbell’s lights? He’s fully capable.”
I direct my glare to Wren, trying to convey how even her best friend can see the situation is fucked up.
“Seems she offered, and he didn’t see a reason not to take her up on it.”
I still remember the way I had to bite back a rude response when Jed told me that, instead of giving him what I think may have resembled a smile, but I can’t confirm.
“I’m sure you misunderstood,” Wren says, and I shake my head.
“I’m sure you give people way more credit than they deserve in your quest to please everyone you come into contact with.”
Her jaw goes tight before she opens her mouth to retort, but Hallie cuts in almost gleefully before she can.
“I get what’s happening now,” Hallie says with a satisfied look directed toward Wren. “Oh, I like him for you!” Wren shoots her friend a deadly look, but Hallie’s attention is on me. “You, sit. Tell me all about how my best friend is once again not taking care of herself.”
“No! Do not sit! You are not welcome at this table. I can’t believe you just interrupted a private conversation like that!” Wren says in the closest thing to a yell I think she has, ignoringher friend and turning to me with fury in her eyes. “Whydid you do that?”
Her fury is goddamn cute.
It sparks something in me, making me cross my arms on my chest and smile at her. The feeling of it is foreign on my face.
“Are you really gonna argue with me in front of all these people, Birdie?” Hallie lets out a small squeak, but my focus remains on Wren. “Small towns talk, right?”
Her jaw goes tight, a look I like on her, not because I want her angry, but because something else tells me she doesn’t allow herself to get angry very often. No, not Wren, the sweet small-town princess who feels an intense urge to help everyone and anyone, even if it means staying up half the night to get it done or nearly falling off a roof.
Wren would rather work herself to the bone than disappoint those around her or mess with the perfect vision she’s curated for herself, much less getangryat them.
She looks around the bar and probably doesn’t miss how a handful of eyes are in fact on us. It’s strange, having eyes on me and not feeling the need to hide away, to shy away from them. As I had hoped when I settled in here, it seems no one in this town realizes who I am.
Wren lets out a little huff before standing, then grabs my arm and tugs me toward the back.
“Ooooh, hell yeah, girl!” Hallie says, and Wren snaps her head in her direction, giving her a glare that is meant to quiet her, I’m sure, but instead makes her smile go wider.
“Don’t listen to anything she says, Adam. She wants you, and she needs someone to help her stop saying yes,” Hallie calls after us.
I let out a laugh as Wren pulls me toward a somewhat secluded area in the bar, which seems to be a coat hallway on one side and a collage of photos on the other, featuring everythingfrom Little League photos to newspaper clippings of township accomplishments.
“Why did you do that?” she asks through gritted teeth, eyes flaring with anger, hands on her hips. I know it’s not the right time to smile, and surely not the right time to tell her how fucking cute she is, so I have to fight back both reactions.
“You can’t stay up all night for some undisclosed timeline feeding kittens that are not your responsibility, Wren. That’s too far, even for you. You have to know that.” There’s a flash of something, maybe understanding or agreement, in her eyes before it’s gone, stubbornness taking its place.
“You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do, Adam,” she says, crossing her arms on her chest and turning fully to me, her back to the collage wall.
I shrug. “Someone has to.”
She gives me a disbelieving look. It’s cute. Again.
