Thisis why I can’t have the custody conversation yet because I don’t have an answer that doesn’t make me want to punch something. Or cry.
I might be deep in my thoughts, trying to figure out what to do, but not deep enough that I miss the way Hendricks’s eyes slide over to Miles.
“What?”
They shake their heads in sync, and their bottom lips roll out. Sometimes the twin thing is really fucking annoying.
“What?” I try again, stifling a yawn.
Miles’s cheeks puff. “Nothing, we just figured you’d ask her to stay for Christmas.”
My elbows hit the desk as I lean forward. “What?”
Hendricks shrugs. “We’re surprised she’s going back so soon, that’s all. After the past two weeks together, we thought you’d have come up with a plan to extend her stay.”
My eyes narrow. I’m staring at the twins, my gaze flicking between the pair of them even though they look exactly the same. Something’s going on here, and I’m not sure what. On the other hand, asking Haven to stay longer is an excellent idea. So good I’m surprised I haven’t already thought of it.
I mean, I’ve thought of asking, but only in one of those fantasy “imagining what my life would be like if we lived together permanently” ways. It’s not something I’ve verbalized because the custody dilemma has taken precedence in my head.
Plus, it’s Christmas, and I never stay in Valentine Nook for Christmas.
But. . . on the other hand, asking Haven to stay forChristmas could help resolve the conversation about custody, and make the path clearer for how we proceed.
Miles is busy separating his M&Ms again, and Hendricks is flicking through a stack of papers, but I know both of them are biding their time until I come to the decision they want me to make. They used to do this all the time as teenagers, especially to our mother—approach from separate angles, convince her that any plan was her idea, and walk away with exactly what they wanted.
I’m just not sure what Haven staying here for Christmas has to do with them.
“You think I should ask her to stay longer?”
Hendricks nods. “I think that as Everly is family, she should have her first Christmas in Valentine Nook?—”
“And,” says Miles, his fist stuffed into the jar, “it means you’ll stay here instead of pulling your usual disappearing act.”
Ah.
That’s why they want me to ask Haven.
I don’t know whether to be annoyed or touched. Because if Haven’s here, then I will be as well. And I know that my avoidance of Christmas upsets my family as much as Christmas upsets me.
But perhaps, like last year, the festivities won’t seem quite so bad if I don’t have to do them alone.
“Do you think she’ll stay if I ask?”
Miles nods. “I do.”
I turn to Hendricks. “What do you think? I don’t want to jeopardize anything.”
“I think spending as much time as you can with Everly is only a good thing.”
I swallow and nod, trying not to let my fantasies carry me away because Christmas is a little over a month away. And anything can happen in a month.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Excellent.” Miles claps his hands. “And while we’re on the subject of excellence, I heard the duke got covered in shit yesterday. Please tell me you have photos.”
I snort. “It was fucking funny. No photos, though.”
“Bollocks. I’ll have to find something else to put on my Christmas card this year,” he says with utmost seriousness. Every year, Miles finds the most hideous photo of one of us, prints it up with Season’s Greetings across the front, and sends it out to everyone he knows.
