Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
“Ew. Enough. I’m already drowning in a pity party, so don’t make it worse.”
There’s a knock on the door then.
“Mom and Dad. I’ll get it,” Brenda says, padding across the kitchen.
“I need to go put some actual clothes on. Can you dish up the plates?” Hanna asks, and I peruse her body. “Theo. Focus. Dish up the plates!” She laughs, and I get up.
“Yes, but don’t be gone long. I miss you already.”
“Careful. Your family might hear you being all mushy with me,” she singsongs, walking out of the kitchen.
“Did you not bring the gifts in your car from the cabin, like I asked?” My mother’s voice is whose I hear first. Rolling my eyes, I drop my head back. Our bubble is now busted. Here go the happy holidays with the Fitzgeralds.
Breakfast plays out like a Christmas movie—from hell. Mom and Dad had to be told to knock off the fighting by me three times, like children, and made breakfast extra festive with bullshit. Brenda wore the guilt on her face, knowing it was her idea to bring them here, and while I dealt with my parents, Hanna comforted Brenda.
Next Christmas, I’m sneaking Hanna away to a fucking private island. My hell, this is a shit show.
“We are going to open gifts now. You two think you can do that without bloodshed?” I ask my parents, helping put away the dishes that Hanna washed.
“Yes, if your mother—”
“Nope,” I interrupt. “'Yes’ will do. Let’s go. Baby, lead the way.”
Hanna walks into the living room, with all of us following her and picking a place. She picks the floor in front of the chair closest to the tree, and I take the seat behind her, coffee in one hand and the other on her shoulder.
“I will pass out the gifts, and… we can do each person? Or do you guys want to do one gift each and just keep going in a circle?”
“One person at a time is good, baby,” I decide.
“Perfect.” She hands each gift out, declining my help. I learned Christmas is her favorite holiday. It used to be her least favorite, because she never had family or someone to share it with. The past three years, she has made it a mission to create new traditions.
“Can Brenda go first?” Hanna claps excitedly.
“Why me?”
“Because Theo went the first year, then me, then your dad. This year, I want it to be you, and I am so excited about your gifts. So, it’s a not-so-hidden agenda, okay?”
I smile. Christmas is only exciting because of her. I have grown fond of it, and it’s all in the name of Hanna.
“Say less!” Brenda starts with mine, then Mom’s, and then Dad’s, saving Hanna’s for last. When it’s time for her to open Hanna’s, my woman is barely able to contain herself, rocking back and forth and clasping her hands. Brenda opens the white envelope, and her eyes fly over the words, and suddenly she shouts, standing and moving toward us. Hanna stands and bounces with excitement. They embrace one another and jump up and down. My sister says “thank you” repeatedly, and I have no idea what the gift is. None of us do.
“What did she get you, honey?” my mother asks.
“A girl’s trip to San Diego in April!”
I would be lying if I said I didn’t just get a knot in my stomach. I like Hanna with me all the time. Nights away, work trips away? Fucking torture. But I keep it to myself, because my possessiveness needs to have some boundaries.
“I know you have been tired and overwhelmed, and I wanted you to have a nice break, and this gives us time to get the store all set up while we’re away. It will be perfect!”
“Margaritas and hot men!” Brenda hollers.
“Amen!” Hanna agrees, and I sit up and smack her cute little ass.
“Watch it, baby, or it will become a girl’s trip with a chaperone.”
“I just mean for your sister. Trust me, no one there is going to hit on me,” she brushes me off, and that comment, that brief lapse in her self-belief, pisses me off.
“Hanna, kitchen. I need help. Mom, start your gifts. We will be right back.”
“Oh, all right. Are you sure? We can wait,” my mother adds.
“Yes. I’m sure.” Taking Hanna’s wrist, I ignore her protest and move to the kitchen.
“Theo, what are you doing?”
I slam her against the kitchen wall, and my lips are on hers. At first, she doesn’t kiss back, probably shocked by what is happening, but she soon catches up and starts to kiss me back.
“Theo, what is going on?” She breaks free, breathless.
“You needed reminding of who you are and just how insanely fucking desirable you are.”
“What are you talking about?” Her eyes search mine.
“You had the nerve to say men wouldn’t want you.”