Rory’s sisters stay inside with their mom and Aunt Tabitha, but to my surprise, she comes outside with us—and her Aunt Mara comes out, too, wearing an oversized puffy winter coat that looks, at first, like it’s paint-splattered.
“You’re staring, Garrett,” she teases me. “I didn’t actually paint in it, you know.”
“Iwaswondering.”
“It’s a limited edition version of this coat, featuring my work.”
Rory gasps as her aunt twirls around. “Way to bury the lede, Aunt Mara!”
“Isn’t it fun?” The older woman grins. “The royalties paid for Glory’s tuition this year.”
Dante interrupts us to ask me to get a ladder from the tree lot.
When I get back with it, Dante and Allan—and the boys—are nowhere to be seen.
“There was a meltdown,” Rory says. “So they went in search of a spotlight to help Santa find the chimney.”
“Ah.” I lean the ladder against the first tree.
“And how are you two doing?” Mara asks. Her sharp artist’s eyes take in more than I’d like. “You look relaxed.”
Heat creeps up Rory’s cheeks. “It’s nice to be home.”
“Mmm.” Her gaze flicks back and forth between us. “I bet it is. And how are you finding being chief resident?”
“It’s a lot of work.”
“Carmen was saying that Garrett takes good care of you, though?”
Fuck my life.
Rory bites her lip.
“I try,” I say.
She nods. “He’s always there when I need him, yeah.”
“What about you?” Mara asks me. “Are you still juggling the garage and the army?”
“Yep, I am.”
“And he started playing rugby,” Rory bursts out.
Her dad returns as she says that. “Did you, Garrett?”
That leads to a lengthy conversation about the different kinds of rugby, studded with toddler demands for more lights.
The whole time, Rory’s cheeks are pink.
And when we all finally head back inside for fondue and charcuterie and an obscene amount of chocolate, I catch her hand and tug her back, so we’re the last ones to go inside.
“What?” She asks, whirling around. Eyes bright.
“I know we gotta get in there, too.” I draw her close. Just for a second. Heart pounding in my throat. “We didn’t get to finish our conversation earlier. And I know now isn’t the time, either. But tonight…after everyone has gone to bed…I think we should talk. I want to talk more, about us.”
Her breath puffs out into the cold air, the temperature dipping down below freezing now that the sun is set. “Us?”
“Yeah, I?—”
