Page 34 of Not In The Christmas Plan
“An escape room with me? Has your mom met me? Does she know how bossy I can get?”
“Trust, she’s well aware.” He squeezes my hand to soften the joke when I balk. “But she likes that about you.”
I’ve always loved how Grant and Braxton’s parents treat Ivy like she’s their own, and that she’s had them to lean on since losing Dad. To imagine that maybe I could have a place with them, too, feels like opening an early Christmas gift.
“So…” Grant says as we come up on the exit, glancing between it and me.
“So, I think it’s about time you keep up your end of our deal and help me find a gift for your brother.”
He sighs dramatically. “I mean, if you’re gonna twist my arm, I guess I have no choice.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Come on, funny guy.”
Chapter fourteen
Some things don’t change—I will forever be a Christmas Market girlie.
I’ll be pushing 100, only able to get around using a walker, and I’ll still rally enough energy to spend a day basking in the magic of the market.
After dragging Grant through so many booths I lost count, I found a gift for Braxton, more for Nia and Amani, and gifts for Grant’s parents.
As we pull into the driveway I inhale deeply, feeling rejuvenated. Grant cuts off the engine but makes no move to get out.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“I can’t move my legs.” He turns to me, dark eyes weary and tired. “I think you broke me. So much shopping. So. Much.”
“Aww, is the widdle baby tired after a few hours of walking? Did big, mean Evie keep you out past your bedtime?”
I’ve got to practice baby-talk somehow.
He cuts his eyes at me. “No. My back is still sore from falling off the roof, and someone had me out on the ice busting my butt.”
I gasp. “I didn’t even think about your fall. Are you okay? Do you need to see a doctor?”
“No doctor.” A slow, sly grin transforms his face from handsome to devastating. A littletoobright for someone supposedly unable to move. “I could use some help from the most beautiful figure skater I know though.”
I don’t quite trust that smile, but guilt of not thinking about his earlier injury gets me moving. I rush around the car to help him up. Even though he’s got a good forty pounds on me, I grab his hands and pull with all my might. He swiftly stands up then swoops down, pressing his lips to mine in a hot, brief kiss that leaves me trying to catch my breath.
I raise my hand to my lips and scowl so I don’t end up grinning like a fool. “I though you said you needed my help.”
“I did. I’ve been wanting to do that all day and needed your help to make it happen.”
“Just for that,” I say before opening the door to the backseat and pulling out a handful of shopping bags. “You get to carry these inside.”
The house is warm and welcoming, working quick to thaw our frozen appendages. After setting our bags by the tree, I watch Grant stiffly take off his gloves and jacket then slip out of his shoes without using his hands. Oh yeah, he’s definitely feeling the pain.
“Why don’t you get cleaned up,” I tell him. “I’ll take care of the bags and everything else. If you need a little Bengay, let me know. I’m sure we’ve got some of Dad’s stashed somewhere.”
Once he disappears down the hall, I dash to shower and slip into holiday pajamas. By the time I’m back, Grant’s still in the shower, so I set up for a gift-wrapping marathon. I get the assembly line organized with scissors, tape, paper, and bows. But something feels off.
After looking over everything, I decide it must just be me and get started.
I wrap Ivy’s book reading light and some board books for the babies. When I wrap Braxton’s spices, I think of how Dad would have loved testing these on some barbequed brisket and realize what’s missing.
Dad’s gift.
For the first time in my life, there isn’t one.
