I wiggle my eyebrows at her. I stuffed the small gift into her bag on the day she left without really checking where I was putting it, but I’m not telling her that—I’m getting a kick out of how grossed out she looks.
“Is it something embarrassing?” She looks at me nervously.
“Nope! Relax, you can open it in front of the gang.”
“Just checking.”
When I step back into the yard, Mary is laying a gift out on each chair, and when she smiles at me, my heart drops. I’ve never had a Christmas like this—easy, relaxed. With a family. If only Mike could see me now.
“Come on!”
Lois is hopping from foot to foot behind me, and I head back to my seat, my pulse racing.
“I’m so happy we’re all here together this evening.” Mary gazes at us fondly.
“Thank you for having me,” I say, and I mean it.
Lois taps my leg, slipping a little square box into my lap. The wrapping paper is beautiful. Before she snatches her hand away, I give it a small squeeze.
“What a beautiful scarf!” Mary gasps, shaking the fabric loose. “Thank you, Lane. I just love it!”
I smile back at her and open my own gift, thanking her in turn for the leather bracelet.
Mitch holds up the bottle of scotch I picked out for him. “Great choice, buddy! Us men will need to give it a taste before you head back.”
“Not cool.” Lois pouts.
“I have some French champagne,” her mom whispers to her.
Mitch raises his eyebrows. “Where?”
“Some place you’ll never find.”
“So with the cleaning stuff?” Kesley tosses a ball of crumpled paper at his dad.
“Very good. You definitely got your sense of humor from Aunt Aubrey.”
“That’s low, man.”
I turn my attention back to Lois. She’s opening her last gift—my gift.
“No way.” She holds up the T-shirt, laughing.
It’s blue, with a big “S” in red and yellow right in the middle. I was scared she’d think it was lame, but she looks so happy turning it over in her hands, I think I made the right call. Lewis would be so proud.
“Okay, Lane. You’re up next.”
I tug at the yellow ribbon and carefully peel back the tape.
“You got a wrapping paper fetish, or something?” Jeff quips. “Rip it off, man!”
“Sorry, dude. My friend Lewis is obsessed with the stuff—he hates it when we tear it. Old habit.”
I carry on peeling back the layers, and when I’m done, I fold the paper into fours.
Mary gasps when she sees what her daughter has picked out for me. “Did you two plan this all along?”
“Nope.”
