Aiden reappears, a box in his hands. “I don’t know if we can use this. Evie, what do you think?”
She crosses the room and peels it open. Her expression goes from mildly annoyed to impressed.
“Did your heart grow three sizes?” She wrinkles her nose. “Wait, that’s an opening for the two of you to say something sappy, and I can’t do that today.”
“What is it?” I ask, tipping forward to see inside. It’s filled with candy-like decorations for wreaths, walls, and counter spaces.
For the land of sweets.
My sweet husband thinks Phoebe will be the Sugar Plum Fairy.
“This is so sweet, but?—”
“We’re not sure how to put it all up,” Evelyn finishes, glaring at me.
I can’t tell if there’s a second conversation happening here, or if she’s trying to spare Aiden. With Evelyn, it could go either way.
While the rest of the adults have taken it upon themselves to piece together a mini-stage in our living room, he crouches in front of Phoebe.
“Hey, kiddo. I heard today was important.”
Phoebe nods solemnly. “Super important.”
“That’s a huge bummer.” He pauses. “How do you feel about performing for us instead?”
Her eyes widen. “Here?”
“Won’t find a better crowd,” he says, then lowers his voice. “They tend to ignore mistakes really well.”
Reid snorts. “Speak for yourself.”
“Behave yourself,” Mom says, and smacks him in the chest with the back of her hand.
For once, I don’t know where I belong. I’m sort of enjoying observing the chaos.
Aiden ignores both of them. “How do you feel about it?”
Phoebe’s gaze swings between the two of us, then settles on me. “Mom?”
“This is your call, bug. If you don’t want to, we’ll just have an extremely…candy-filled living room.” I shrug.
Reid turns, his mouth open to say something, and I glare at him with every ounce of Mother Glare I possess.
He at least has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed before he goes back to work. I’ve got no clue what his deal is—he usually loves all things kids. He’s one of the only male elementary teachers in Enchanted Hollowand thesurrounding areas.
“I might convince Evie to do a dance for you if you’re not feeling up to it.”
Evelyn just scored more “cool aunt” points.
“Aunt Evie,you dance?” Phoebe’s eyes widen to a point where she almost looks like a cute little cartoon.
Carter stares at her, slack-jawed.
“You—shut it,” she says. Then she turns to my daughter, and her expression flips from ice queen to princess in an instant. “You’re the only one I’d even consider doing that for.”
Phoebe takes a deep breath. “Okay, I want to do it. If Aunt Evie can, so can I.”
Before long, the living room resembles something Clark Griswold’s cousin would create. I’ve never seen so many lights in an indoor space. Owen and my brothers move and rearrange furniture, figuring out the best angles to see Phoebe dance, like they’re professionals.
