Page 4 of Not In The Christmas Plan
“It’s not too early.”
“And everything’s going to be fine?”
“Everything will be fine,” I say, channeling calm confidence. I run a hand over her jeweled locs while holding her gaze. “You’ve got your hair nice and fresh, so you won’t have to worry about looking cute while pushing out my nieces.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I am not worried about how my hair looks. Just my feet.”
“You’ve got your go-bag with everything to keep you comfy. And your husband by your side.”
A glance up shows me an eyes-wide-with-panic Braxton receiving a similar pep talk from Grant.
“You got this,” Grant says. “And remember, if she says anything mean during labor—don’t take it personally.”
The door leading inside opens and Braxton’s mom comes running out. “The brownies are ready!”
She rushes to jump into the backseat with a wrapped box of brownies and a tag with the words ‘Thank you, nurses’ written across.
Because of hospital restrictions, it was decided that Linda and Wardell would accompany the new parents to the hospital, and I would be able to come after the birth. Idon’t like it, but Braxton’s parents treat Ivy like their own, so I know she’ll be in good hands.
Braxton and his dad load into the car as well and with final nervous goodbyes, they back out.
My little sister, my twin, is about to have her own set of twins.
As the car disappears from view, cold November air sweeps into the garage, passing right through my thin sweater. I wrap my arms tightly around my body, but it barely stops the chill and does absolutely nothing for the sudden hollow feeling that settles over me. Ivy and I were supposed to be doing this together.
From the time we were young girls, we’d imagined doing life side by side—marriage, babies, family holidays—and having our kids grow up more like siblings than cousins. For a while, it even looked like it would happen. Ivy had Braxton, who was loyal and ready to build his life around her. And I had Eddie, who I thought was equally as loyal, until Grant showed me photographic proof that shattered everything.
I should probably worship the ground Grant walks on for saving me from a lifetime of regret, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned as a family lawyer, it’s that emotions don’t always allow us to do what’s logical. Emotions are messy. They make you act out or collapse into yourself, run from the people you love or cling too tightly, do everything you possibly can to keep from hurting any more.
Especially when grief is involved.
And shortly after breaking things off with Eddie, I lost Dad.
Life went on, it always does, and I kept working cases and trying to be there for Ivy while she planned her wedding, knowing the man who meant the most to both of us wouldn’t be there to walk her down the aisle.
It was during one of those wedding-prep days when everything finally caught up with me. It’d been just Grant and me assembling dozens of tiny Lego figurines for Ivy and Braxton’s wedding favors. Grant was trying to cheer me up with jokes and offering peppermints from a stash in his pocket he must have taken from someone’s grandma. What I probably needed was a hug, but when he dangled that crinkly wrapper in my face, I went in for a kiss.
Admittedly, I’d always felt a pull to him—one I ignored while planning a future with Eddie—but in that moment, there was nothing to hold me back.
The instant our lips touched though, I knew it was a mistake. No man on this earth had a right to possess lips that soft, that sweet, that alluring. One kiss and I’d been tempted to throw all my troubles on Grant and let him carry them away. I wanted to give up all control when I’d already lost so much.
When he tried to discuss the kiss like emotionally stable adults and made it clear that he wanted to giveusa chance, I told him it was a mistake. I pulled back not only from the kiss, but also the friendship we’d built in the orbit of Ivy and Braxton. It was the only way I knew to protect myself. Months later, it still is.
The garage door shuts, sealing us in silence. I drag myself out of the past, leaving behind everything beyond my control, and force my attention back to the present, which honestly is no better.
With everyone gone to the hospital it’s only Grant and me here.
He’s on the other side of the garage, standing there with arms crossed over his chest, feet planted on the concrete, and a faraway look in his eyes. Does he realize that this is the first time since the kiss we’ve been alone?
I suck in a cleansing breath. I need something else to focus on. “I’m going to clean the kitchen,” I announce, already halfway to the door.
The sink is full, counters crowded, and table full of half-eaten meals. I roll up my sleeves and get to work. I dig out Tupperware and Ziplock bags and begin packing the turkey, greens, and Linda’s chitlins gravy.
Funny thing about that—I’ve spent all of my twenty-eight years living in the South, having grown up here in Bliss, Texas and moved to San Antonio after school—but have never had chitlins until today.
Dad used to tell us how Mom loved them, but he couldn’t stomach the smell. She’d insist on cooking them anyway, and he’d insist she leave the front and back doors open, as well as all of the downstairs windows. I wonder what would have happened if he’d been here when Linda proudly walked in with her pot of gravy, eager for Ivy and me to try it? Dad had a good poker face, so I’m sure he would have smiled and offered to take it off her hands. Then “accidentally” poured the whole thing down the sink while the garbagedisposal was on.
I fight back the lump in my throat. It was so unfair that a car accident took him from us when Ivy needed him to guide her through her new role as a wife, and I needed him in the aftermath of my heartache.
