Savannah shifts and peers up at me, like she’s waiting for my answer. I consider lying. I don’t want pity, and I don’t want to dampen the mood, but I can’t lie to her. “I normally just relax on Christmas Day.”
“Alone?” Rosalie asks, her free hand clutching nonexistent pearls like I’ve personally offended her.
I nod.
“Well, not this year,” she says, like it’s not up for debate.
A discomfort that often hits me with these kinds of subjects surges. “Oh, that’s okay.”
Green eyes depthless, Savannah studies me, like she’s deep in thought.
I give her a little smile, assuring her that I’m good. I’m fine with being alone.
“No, she’s right.” Savannah straightens, her voice almost scratchy. Then she blinks and breaks into a beaming smile. “You’ll spend it with me. Please. We’re both going to the Langfields for Christmas Eve, right?”
I nod slowly, unsure that I like where this is going. Is this going to be a pity invite?
“Then you’ll come back here with me.” She peeks into the living room, where the kids are all settled in front of the television. Then she leans in and whispers, “You can come with me to help the Donovans set up for Santa, and then we’ll wake up together on Christmas morning—our first Christmas morning together.” She smiles now, evenbigger, like the idea sounds as incredible to her as it does to me. “And then we’ll have Christmas Day here, with everyone.”
I assess her, take in the smile on her face, and allow myself to picture the scenes she’s just painted. I consider the memories we’ll make, and my heart thrashes wildly in my chest. Because I want it. I want all of that. With her.
“Sounds like the perfect Christmas,” I tell her.
She nods, her eyes glittering. “It really does.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
SAVANNAH
“Thankyou so much for coming early,” Addie says as I walk through the front door to the brownstone where she grew up.
According to her, this place will be a mob scene in a matter of hours, so I’m here to help prep. Josie usually claims me for the holiday, so I’ve never attended a Langfield Christmas Eve, but I’ve heard they’re epic.
I can only imagine it will be a who’s who of the Boston elite kind of night.
Also, this house is incredible. All of the homes on this block are gorgeous, and most of them are inhabited by Langfields. All four Langfield brothers, including Addie’s dad, live on the street.
The way Addie tells it, her mom and her bio dad divorced when she was a toddler, and after, her mother, Liv, and her three best friends moved into one house on this street so they could raise their kids together. Then Liv married her boss, Beckett Langfield, in Vegas on a whim, and when they came home, he moved in with all of the women and kids.
The story gets a little fuzzy from there, but eventually Beckett bought every house on this street, and now some are filled withLangfields, and the others are occupied by the friends her mom moved in with all those years ago, along with their families. Sienna is the only one of Addie’s dad’s siblings who doesn’t live on this street.
“I’m happy to help, and I really appreciate the invitation.” I hand her a bottle of wine stuffed into a gift bag, fighting the urge to cringe. I spent a good chunk of my Christmas budget on it, but I can’t imagine her family drinking grocery-store wine.
“You shouldn’t have spent your money on this,” she says as she eyes the label on the bottle.
She tugs me into the oversized kitchen. It’s all white cabinets and white and gold marble counters. At the island, three kids are perched on stools, each decorating their own gingerbread house. Avery, JJ’s daughter, is on one end, and beside her are Winnie’s twin boys, Beckett and Declan.
“I didn’t ask you to come early to help set up, I texted SOS because—” Brows lifted, she darts a glance at Avery.
Ah. Where Avery goes, JJ goes, and wherever JJ is, Addie tries not to be. Alone, at least. It’s going to be awfully difficult to keep this up when she’s his goalie coach next season, but pointing that out now won’t do me any good.
“Didn’t the two of you grow up together?” I mumble when I spot JJ in the back yard with Addie’s dad while he talks to what looks like a…raccoon? That can’t be right.
With a huff, my friend stomps to the fridge. “Want a water or something? Or should we have wine? Maybe we should have wine now.”
I snort. “We definitely shouldn’t have wine now. You’ll be toasted before the guests arrive, and I am not going to be blamed for ruining Christmas Eve.”
She sighs and plucks two bottles of water from the fridge. “No, that’d be him.” She nods at the window.
