Page 25 of No Strings Attached
Before he can argue, there’s a flurry of movement from down the hallway, and then I hear my niece’s voice.
“Uncle Henny!”
Brianna crashes into me at full-speed, wearing the oversized Christmas sweater I bought her last year. I catch her just in time and lift her into the air with a spin that makes her giggle.
“There she is! You still getting straight As?”
“Obviously.” She grins.
“And are you still cooler than your dad?”
“Waycooler.”
Worth mutters something behind us, probably about regretting parenthood. I set her down and ruffle her hair before she dashes off to inform the household of my arrival.
I make my way through the house, familiar scents pulling at old memories. Cinnamon, cloves, and something buttery drifting from the kitchen.
“Everyone’s outside, trying to pretend we all enjoy being in the same place for more than twenty minutes,” Worth says, following me down the hallway.
“How’s that going?”
He gives me a look. “How do you think?”
In the living room, my dad and uncle are posted on the couch, laser-focused on whatever playoff game is blasting from the flat screen.
“Hey, Dad. Uncle Lou.”
I barely get the words out before my uncle waves me off like a gnat.
My dad doesn’t even look my way. “Down in front. You’re blocking the pass, Hen.”
I laugh and keep walking. “Nice to see you too, Dad.”
Old grouch. And they wonder where I get my grumpiness from.
Out back, the sliding door sticks, as it always does—classic New England humidity meets old house charm—but I shove it open and Worth and I step onto the patio.
My mom is sitting near the firepit, a mug in her hand, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders like she lives in her own Hallmark movie. She spots me and immediately lights up.
“Henson.”
“Hey, Ma.”
She stands and pulls me in for a hug. Her arms are warm, and she smells like peppermint lotion and sugar cookies.
“Let me look at you. You still don’t eat enough. You’re too thin.”
“It’s called being lean, Mom. I’m fine.”
“Mhmm.” She gives my cheek a light pat and nudges me toward the chair beside her. I sink into it, letting the fire warm my hand.
“You staying for more than a few days this time?”
“I’m gonna try.”
Mom doesn’t push. Just gives me a knowing smile.
“So… what’s this I hear about the big New Year’s Eve party?”
