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“We have inventory and cleanup for the next few days,” she said. “And I’m open to all and any complaints about the season. Or recommendations to improve productivity or morale around here—come see me.”
She made pointed eye contact with a couple of people and then clapped her hands. “But before you all get to work…you know what time it is.”
There was a ripple of laughs and a few claps, and from a box on the table in front of her she pulled an ornament…
I tilted my head sideways.
“Is that what I think it is?” I asked.
“Naked Mrs. Claus ornament. It’s a whole thing,” said a woman standing next to me.
“The MVP of this year’s holiday season is…” Sophie said, and staff at the table smacked the surface, creating a drum roll. “Joe Arben.”
The handsome kid who’d had his hands on Sophie the night of the party, unzipping her dress with his mouth at her shoulder, stood up, all smiles.
“You assholes are never going to find it this year,” he said and took the ornament from Sophie, then wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a hug. Which she accepted with a bright, merry laugh.
I turned, walking away from the break room into the main part of the warehouse just as Wes came through the big doors and stood on the landing at the top of the small staircase.
“There you are,” he said with suspicious bonhomie. Not that he wouldn’t be happy to see me. We were, after all, damn good friends, but this was a little…too happy.
The guy was getting laid. The marriage was real.
I could tell by looking at his face.
“You son of a bitch,” I said, stopping in my tracks.
“Stop,” Wes said, looking sheepish but still happy.
“Your sister is pissed.” And hurt. But she wouldn’t like me talking about that.
“My sister? About what, exactly?” Wes asked.
“About you getting for-real married without her being at the ceremony.”
“Yeah,” Wes said, stopping a foot away from me. “You’re probably right.”
“I’m pissed about it, too,” I said.
“About not being at a wedding?”
“Not being best man. I figure I only have one shot at the job.”
Wes smiled at me, and I recognized him as the kid I met on that basketball court, arguing with me over the free throw line. The kid who’d let me spend the night at his house when my dad was back. The kid who’d loaned me money so I could help bring my dad home, only so he could wreck it again. The kid who’d taken me aside and told me I couldn’t steal things. That it would get me banned from the Kane house. From the Kane family.
And Wes didn’t want me banned from the house. So I’d promised not to steal things.
I stole this Christmas with Sophie. I stole every kiss. Every touch. I stole the way she screamed my name and the way her body felt under mine.
I stole all of it, and if Wes knew about it, about me and Sophie, he’d…I don’t know. Kill me? Be happy? I couldn’t even guess.
“So?” I asked. “Everything good?”
“Yeah.” He ran a hand over his head, that shit-eating grin in the corner of his mouth. “Real good. We’ll talk, okay?”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “We better.”
“Hey.” Wes stepped forward. “Your mom said your dad is sniffing back around.”
“When in the world did you talk to my mom?”
“She called to congratulate me. She’s always liked me best.”
No, I thought. She always liked Sophie best.
“Is everything okay? With your dad?” Wes asked.
“He does this every holiday season,” I said. “Gets nostalgic and kicked out of wherever he’s been staying. Mom won’t pull the trigger on a restraining order.” Dad never got violent, just…pesky. And I could handle pesky. But the problem was what it did to Mom. She’d stopped letting him in years ago, but he still got in her head. Made a mess in her heart.
“Have you seen him?”
“No. He knows better than to show up when I’m around. And I’m around all the time, now.”
“If you need anything…” Wes said, smacking me on the shoulder and I hid my flinch, shook out my hand. “I’m here.”
“I know,” I said.
“You get a tour or anything?”
“I know where the bathrooms are,” I said.
“Hey.” Wes stepped a little closer, dropped his voice. “You sure this is what you want? Working here?”
It was exactly what I wanted. “It’s perfect.”
“Well, you’ll tell me if that changes, right? If you want to go, you don’t owe us anything.”
Oh man, that’s where he was wrong. I owed Wes and Sophie everything.
But this job was good. Perfect.
Someone came running up from behind me and I turned, ready to put the person through a wall, but it was only that Joe kid who was so into Sophie. I still wanted to put him through a wall—but I curbed the action-before-thought instinct and just stepped out of the way. The kid, though, recognized me and stopped.
