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“Yeah, it needed to be more Christmassy.”
He tosses his keys on the counter with a clatter. “I should’ve put it up at the beginning of the month.”
“Well, you didn’t.” I state simply. “So I did.”
“Whatcha watching?” he asks, lightly tapping my feet so I’ll lower them from the coffee table and let him by. It’s not like he could go in front of the coffee table or anything.
“Some cheesy TV Christmas movie,” I admit. “I haven’t been paying much attention, but I bet you anything there’s probably a cold-hearted city guy dating a city girl. Then the city girl gets stranded in a remote country town and falls in love with some guy who makes ranch dressing for a living or sells rocking horses. Oh there’s probably a dog too. And the city guy loses the girl in the end.”
He laughs outright, shaking his head at me. “Oh, Dani. Ranch dressing, huh?”
“I mean, it’s likely. Oh, and technically you’d be the cold-hearted city boy, working with computers and all.”
He arches a brow. “Do I get bonus points for quitting? Well, getting fired,” he amends.
I think for a moment. “Sure, I guess. But let’s face it, you’re a nerd and will get another job with computers. Just don’t forget how to talk to girls. I would like some nieces or nephews someday.”
I swear he chokes on his own saliva. “Take that back. I don’t even want to think about kids right now. I’m too young.”
“You’ll be twenty-six soon,” I remind him.
He gives me a horrified expression like he’s caught me kicking a puppy or something. “Yeah, and that’s too fucking young to be thinking about kids, Dandelion.” He shudders—actually shudders, where his whole body shakes and he makes some kind of weird noise with his lips.
This is too fun for me now. I grin, feeling lighter than I have since the news yesterday. “I could babysit.”
He jumps to a standing position. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” he chants walking away with his hands held loosely over his ears. “I don’t want to hear any of this nonsense.” I open my mouth and he actually screams, then shoves his fingers in his ears. “La, la, la. I can’t hear you.”
He disappears down the hall to his room and I actually pay attention to the movie this time. Turns out the guy doesn’t make ranch dressing for a living, but he is a dairy farmer. Close enough.
Chapter Forty-Five
Bal
ancing the sketchpad on my knees, I move my pencil back and forth, letting the simple lines I’ve been drawing transform into a monarch butterfly.
I know my sketches are nothing compared to the beautiful art Ansel makes, but there’s a peace I find in letting my mind wander but my hand guide me. It takes me to some surprising places.
When I think the drawing is as close as it’s going to get to perfect, I close the pad, setting it aside on my unmade bed. With school out and Sage home I’ve spent the majority of my time burrowing beneath the bed covers, getting lost in new stories or creating art.
Tiptoeing out of my room, I peek into the living room and find Sage watching sports.
“Hey,” he speaks when he spots me. “Do you want to go somewhere?”
I look at the pile of presents beneath the tree, fuller than the night I put it up, containing things Sage got for me and others our extended family has sent. There’s even one wrapped in solid black wrapping paper with a silver bow from Ansel that he gave me when he stopped by for dinner one evening. Sage didn’t even grumble … much.
“No, I’m okay here.”
“Seriously, I could maybe get tickets to a play or something.” He wrinkles his nose.
Laughing, I wrap my arms around myself. “Even if you could get something on Christmas Eve Eve you don’t even like that sort of thing.”
“We could go to a movie?” he suggests, brightening.
I think of the dark, enclosed space. “No, I’m good, seriously. Just gonna grab a soda.”
“Suit yourself.”
From the fridge I grab a grape Fanta I blame Ansel for getting me addicted to. I had one at Thanksgiving, but the obsession didn’t really kick in until he was over the other night and brought an entire case, leaving the box when he left. Now, they’re mine and I can’t get enough of it.
