His nephew scrambled off of Kenzie’s lap to head for pancakes in the kitchen. Kenzie opened the bag she’d brought along and took out a little blue box. She handed it to his mother. “I didn’t know what you’d like. So, I figured I’d get you something I’d like.”
His mother was going to have a stroke. Right there.
“Merry Christmas,” Kenzie continued.
Mom fussed over the box, the white ribbon, the little card Kenzie had attached before they’d headed over. Inside the box was a blue pouch. Inside the blue pouch was a diamond tennis bracelet.
Tucker grinned. His mother started to cry. “Oh my. Oh my.”
Her fingertips tripped over the latch, trying to get the bracelet around her wrist. Kenzie stepped in and helped her.
For his father? She handed him a bottle of rum. “I picked it up on one of the sets when we were filming a pirate movie a few years ago. I hope you like it.”
“Well…” His father looked over the bottle and stood. Cleared his throat. Ambled to the kitchen.
Kenzie looked to Tucker, her expression panicked.
Tucker reached for her hand. “That means he likes it. He’s getting cups.”
Sure enough, his dad returned with a stack of clear plastic cups. They didn’t do dishes on Christmas morning. Instead everything was served on paper and in plastic.
Dad handed Tucker a cup of rum, and he took a slug. Good stuff.
Kenzie got a cup too, and she took a big drink.
Something about that made the whole thing even more real. Kenzie had told him at the beginning that she didn’t drink in public because she couldn’t relax when she was “on.” The fact that she’d taken a sip around his family, meaning she was relaxed enough to do it, meant everything.
“Tucker?” She unlinked their hands and dug through her bag, handing him a box only slightly bigger than his mother’s.
He tore off the paper. Inside was a photo of her in a small silver frame. Behind her, in the photo, was him.
This had been snapped at one of his concerts.
“That’s when I saw you in Central Park, before we ever knew each other.” She pointed to him in the background of the image.
He remembered that concert. Things had been going so well for him then. He’d been on top of the world.
And she’d been there.
In his father’s words, “Well…” he heard himself say.
Tucker cleared his throat.
“That means he likes it,” Sierra chimed in.
“I do.” Tucker stood and grabbed a box from under the tree. The one Jessica had marked to Kenzie from him. He had no idea what she’d bought. He’d asked her to grab something and ship it ahead of time. At the time, it had made sense. In the now, it seemed like a really stupid idea.
Kenzie took her time with the paper. Glancing up at him in intervals, her eyes misting. She pulled a pink silk scarf from the tissue.
She stilled, a frown on her beautiful mouth. Quickly, she rearranged her expression into one of happiness. But he’d caught it. He’d messed up. It was clear as hell he hadn’t bought it for her. He would never have shopped for a lacy scarf.
“It’s really pretty. Thank you, Tucker.” She moved in and kissed his cheek.
His mother’s cell phone buzzed on the coffee table. “Everyone I know is here,” she said, glancing to the screen. “Hello?”
“He’s here…yes…hold on.” She handed him the phone. “It’s your manager.”
Tucker snagged the cell. “Merry Christmas,” he said into the microphone.
