“I have to leave for work soon,” I tell her. “So I don’t really have much time.”
“Just for a minute. Please. I’m not trying to cause any trouble. Just a minute or two?”
Tell her to come back later, half of my brain says.Or better yet, tell her to call the lawyer.
But,my heart argues,she brought flowers. She just wants to talk.
“I don’t know,” I hedge. “I really do have to leave for work soon. Maybe another time…”
“Please.” As the sun hits her face, it picks up deep wrinkles that drag at her mouth and eyes. Her hair is thin and faded. She looks tired. Sad.
Sympathy plucks at me. “Okay. Just for a minute.”
CHAPTER 17
RONAN
Why isChristmas shopping so hard?
In my thirty-nine years, I’ve never worried much about gifts before. My family does gift cards, and I always send my brother money to buy presents for the kids. Then his wife, Allison, sends me a photo with the gifts they bought, so I’m not surprised when the kids open them. Maybe some people would say that’s not personal. But Anton and Andrew are happy, and isn’t that what’s important?
When I was with Gwen, she always told me exactly what she wanted. She’d send me a link, I’d place the order, and that would be it.
And little Nate. I had thoughts of picking out toys for him—little cars and dinosaurs and stuffed dragons, just like I had when I was a kid. But I never got to spend Christmas with him.
After that, I didn’t want to think about presents at all.
But now?
I want to get Angel something special. Something that shows how much I care about her. I want her to open her gift and knowI didn’t just grab whatever I saw first when I walked into the store. I want her to know I really put some thought into it.
Then there’s Haley. I want to get her a good present, too. But I’m not sure what’s appropriate. My first thought was skis, but Angel was just saying last night how much she wished she could afford to get them for Haley herself. So if I buy them, would that be a thoughtful gift, or will it make Angel feel like I’m stepping on her toes?
Turning away from a display of hand-carved jewelry boxes, I mutter, “Why can’t I findanything?”
Stupid me, I thought I’d swing through downtown Bliss after my meeting, pop into a couple of stores, and get my shopping done for Angel and Haley just like that. But forty-five minutes and three stores later, and I’m no further along than when I started.
One of the jewelry boxes that I watched two womenooh and ahover? Maybe, if Angel ever wore jewelry. But aside from the tracking necklace I gave her, she never wears anything else.
I almost bought a blue cashmere sweater in Beauty and Bliss that matched the color of Angel’s eyes, but then I worried she might think it was too expensive and never wear it.
Then there was the apron for sale in Decadent Delights, all decorated with hand-stitched flowers that made it look like a garden. I could picture Angel wearing that while she baked, but then I thought—what if she thinks I’m making some sort of statement about the role of women in the kitchen and she ends up being offended?
Idon’tthink women belong in the kitchen. And I’m well aware I’m probably reading too much into it. But shit. It’s our first Christmas together. I don’t want to be one of those guys who buys his girlfriend a terrible gift that gets laughed about decades later.
I know that happens because my mom still pokes fun at my dad for giving her a toaster for their first Christmas. Every year, she brings out the mustard-yellow toaster just to keep the joke going. And my dad always groans and says,“She said she needed a toaster. I thought I was being helpful.”
Although theyarestill married, and it’s been forty-five years. So maybe he had the right idea.
On that note, does Angel need a new toaster? She has a toaster oven, but it’s pretty old. Maybe I could buy her one of those fancy, twelve-purpose ones that does everything for you.
As I turn the idea over in my head, I move on to a display of blown glass sculptures. A delicate cardinal catches my attention, but as soon as I imagine it in Angel’s house, I’m reminded of how Haley likes to fling her backpack around. All it would take would be one accidental bump, and it would end up in smithereens on the floor. Angel would be disappointed, Haley would feel bad, and?—
“Shit,” I curse under my breath. “How can there not beanything?”
“Talking to yourself?”
I spin around to find my friend, Sawyer, watching me with a bemused expression. “Or maybe one of the birds offended you?” he adds. Moving beside me, he gestures at a crow with beady eyes. “I have to say, I don’t much like the look of that one.”
