“Well, it was a process of elimination.”
He nodded sagely. “You know, you could have just asked me. I feel that way whenever I see your mom.”
I rolled my eyes but . . . still smiling.
“Well, I’m glad you’re not anxious about your feelings anymore. There was the initial confusion and uncertainty.”
“Those were a different kind of tummy ache.”
“I remember it well,” he said. “From when I first met your mother. Speaking of which, we still need to figure out what we’re gonna get your mom for Christmas.”
“Books. We get her books every year.”
“Yeah, I know. And I’m all for that, but I thought maybe we should get something else this year. What do you think?”
I stopped cold; that dreaded icky feeling was suddenly back in my tummy.
“Deac, what is it?” Dad asked, concerned.
“Christmas gifts.”
I could feel the blood drain from my face.
“What am I supposed to get Winter for Christmas? I’ve never... I’ve never bought anyone a Christmas gift before. Well, apart from you and Mom. You don’t really count.”
“Thanks, Deac.”
“I mean a boyfriend. What am I supposed to get him? Just what does a boyfriend do for a Christmas gift? Surely there are expectations.” I put my hand to my forehead, lightheaded and panicky. “This was a terrible mistake.”
Dad sighed, put his hand on my shoulder, and looked into my eyes. “Son, it’ll be fine. We are Clark men. Well-educated, somewhat socially inept but that’s subjective, and we are nothing if not lateral thinkers. We will do what we’ve always done.”
“What’s that? What have we always done?”
“We’ll go home and ask your mom. She’ll know just the thing.” He clearly thought this was the best idea because he brightened, even raised his index finger. “She always knows.”
My mother’sadvice wasn’t as helpful as I’d hoped.
I’d reasoned that perhaps Winter and I should set parameters on both monetary value and expectations. Dad wholeheartedly agreed with me.
Mom’s suggestion, however, was more philosophical.
“A first Christmas gift to someone you love should come from the heart,” she’d said.
Which was all fine and reasonable for fine and reasonable-minded people.
Of which I was neither.
How was I supposed to give him a gift from my heart? Jitters, palpitations, and an entirely weird, full, squeezy feeling were hardly something I could bottle and wrap to put under the tree.
Instead of overthinking and spiraling, as I wanted to do, I referred to the good, sometimes-misguided information on the internet.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WINTER
“Hello,”Deacon said, coming into the store a few minutes before closing. He dusted off his coat and pulled off his beanie, looking windswept and incredibly handsome.
“This is a nice surprise,” I said, unable to stop grinning.
