"What," I say slowly, too shocked to care about the way my own cheeks are flaming, "Is wrong with you?"
"I thought it was a funny callback," he moans, his face distraught. "You know, from when—"
"STOP TALKING," me, Ellie, and Abby shout again in unison, and Griffin is instantly up in arms.
"What the hell? Is there something everyone knows except for me?" he says accusingly, rounding on Ellie.
"It's not my secret to tell," she says, patting him on the cheek. "You'll have to ask Abby permission."
"Okay but what if Jack says no?" I interject. "What about Jack's permission?"
"Don't care, didn't ask," Griffin says, waving me off without taking his eyes off of Ellie. "Abby, can Ellie please tell me?"
"I guess," she sighs, her face still crimson. "But not now. Later. Please."
"Excellent," Griffin cackles as I swear under my breath.
"I was going to make a joke about an upgrade," David says quietly, looking (rightfully) ashamed. "I'm sorry Abby, I wasn't trying to do anything malicious. I'll get you three genuine gifts to make up for it."
She shakes her head, smiling at him, "No take backsies, David. But I will take three additional gifts, thank you very much."
He grins sheepishly, shoulders relaxing once he realizes no one is actually mad at him.
"You'll have to let us know—"
"Do not finish that sentence," I growl, everyone's eyes widening in surprise at the harshness in my tone.
"I was just kidding," he says nervously.
"Sorry," I say, dragging my hand down my face and attempting to regain my composure. "That just caught me off guard. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't—"
"A bright purple sex toy?" Abby snickers. "Jack Robbit, you prude."
I shoot her a warning glare, but instantly relax at the joy on her face. David might be an idiot, but how can I be mad at something making Abby smile this bright?
"I'm not a prude," I mutter, crossing my arms over the LED reindeer nose in faux annoyance.
The rest of the gifts are boring in comparison—a coffee mug with the new company logo for Griffin, a Lego set for David, and an updated car emergency kit for me.
"You realize I have all this shit at work right?" I ask Griffin.
"That's for you to keep in your Jeep for when one of us calls you instead of 911," he says through a mouthful of cookie.
"Please do not do that," I say flatly as everyone else laughs.
We clean up the wrapping paper, arguing the entire time about what should be saved, what can be trashed, and who is taking what food items home, before ending the night with hugs, kisses, and echoed 'Merry Christmases'.In what's becoming a habit (and one of my favorite things), Abby and I cross the street arm in arm, returning to the house that feels increasingly more like a home every day.
"Hey, wait," I say softly, catching her wrist before she retreats to her room for the night. "I got you something."
"Jack," she scolds, scowling. "We were only supposed to get something for the name we picked."
"I couldn't help it," I reply. "I saw it and I thought of you. Let me go grab it."
I reach behind the couch-bed, which I'd pulled forward about six inches to fit, and retrieve the delicately wrapped present from the gap.
"I knew that couch moved," she hisses. "I've been tripping over it all week."
"Sorry, pretty girl," I say, not sorry one bit. "Here, open this."
