“And I just want it to be—” She stops and presses her lips together.
“What? Perfect?”
“Good.” But she glances away.
I cross my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the tension coiling in my shoulders. “It’s not your job to make Christmas perfect for your family.”
Her cheeks heat up, annoyed. “It’s notnotmy job. I mean, ideally it’s everyone’s job. I know you don’t care?—”
“You don’t think I care about making sure you have a good Christmas? And your family by extension?”
“No, I mean?—”
“Because I’mhere.”
“Iknow that. I see that! I’m saying, it’s not somethingyou care about. The holidays. I know you’re doing it for me. But that makes it all the more stressful in a way, which is why I want to even the balance out!”
We glare at each other. Her eyes are locked on mine, and I can see the struggle in them—the push and pull between what she really wants and what she thinks sheshouldwant. Or maybe what she thinks she needs.
God knows, I have no clue what she needs. Not really. Not anymore. And I know she doesn’t want to be mine, but I still don’t knowwhy.
“Garrett,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I shift closer. Too close, my body humming with the need to touch her again. “I don’t want to stress you out, Roar. I always want to ease your burdens, because you’re precious to me, and if this isn’t the way?—”
A door slams on the first level, and the unmistakable high-pitched laughter of small children drifts up the stairs.
She pushes me away. “They’re here.”
“Hang on a second,” I say, heart pounding.
But she’s gone, slipping past me the way she always slides out of my grasp. The way she slid out of my life when I told her I wasn’t happy anymore.
Rory Minelli has an intense self-preservation instinct.
And deep down, I scare her.
Chapter 16
Rory
You’re precious to me.
What the fuck is that?
What the actual fuck is that?
Chapter 17
Garrett
By the time I get downstairs with my backpack over my shoulder, Carmen’s sisters are both in the kitchen, and there’s a double dose of laughing sister trios, all talking over each other. It’s a cacophony of noise. I make eye contact with Tabitha’s husband and wave before he ducks back outside, presumably to bring in their bags and all the toddler gear.
Rory, on the other hand, is notably dodging eye contact. I watch intently as she picks up one of the little boys racing around the kitchen, and he giggles as she whispers something to him.
She doesn’t look over, even though I’m sure she can feel my gaze burning into her skin.
“You look freshly rumpled,” Jules says as she appears beside me, Mara right behind her.
