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Becca: It's not the end of the world. We just do what every single person does on Christmas. Get Chinese.
Colton: It's supposed to be a traditional Christmas. Now it's ruined.
I can almost hear the whine in Colton's voice, and it makes me laugh. Of course, he'd be extra upset the meal is canceled. The man eats a lot. And okay, I’m sad too.
"What's so funny?" Janey asks, smiling.
"Christmas dinner is canceled. Caterers had a fire."
"Oh no," Janey says, pressing her hand against her mouth. Now that I hear the words, I realize my smile doesn't really match my words, and I don't want her to think I'm laughing about the fire. "They're ok. Colton's whining."
John snorts and leans back against the counter. "You guys get Christmas dinner catered? Seriously? Rich people are weird."
"I think it has less to do with being rich than the fact that none of them can cook," Janey says with a grin.
"None of them?" he asks, eyebrows raised. "What about you? What about the women? They can't cook either?"
"Some of them can," I say. "But Ransom didn't want it to be a bunch of work for the women. This is our first Christmas as a family, and some of the women have come from very hard places. We wanted to treat them."
John stares at the floor and casually, lightly, pounds a fist on the counter. "I could cook."
Happy tingles fill my palms. "You know how to cook?" I ask.
He looks sideways at me. "I worked in the kitchens a lot. I've cooked the last few holidays."
"There's Christmas in prison?" Do they trim trees too?
John shrugs. "Not really. We get better food that day. They sometimes bring in gifts, like new socks or something, and that's about it."
"You're still hurting," Janey says. "Would that be too much for you?" Right. I forgot. Maybe I'm a little excited about the food too.
"I've been hurt a lot worse," he says, giving her a lopsided smile.
She clasps her hands over her chest, distracting me. "If you're sure, I think that would be a pretty incredible gift for everyone."
John shakes his head, but that little smile stays on his face.
"What do you need? To make the dinner, I mean? Can you write it down?" I ask.
"You're going to the grocery store?"
Something about the way he asks that question, and his wide eyes, makes me puff up. "I went yesterday."
He groans. "Shit. I think I'd better come with you. I'll need a look at the kitchen I'd be cooking in too."
I'm in the grocery store.
Again.
I wish we'd gone to the same one as yesterday. It was smaller, and while it was busy, it wasn't this kind of busy. But apparently, the kitchen in the penthouse is 'fucking pathetic' so we're at the superstore.
I don't like it here.
There are too many smells, and every time I take my eyes off them for a second, Janey and John disappear into the crowd. Maybe I wasn't the best choice for this, but no damn way am I going to let Janey go without me.
She seems happy, happier than she has been in days. And while I understand why, I don't like it. Janey likes to listen. She likes to help people and fix problems. Right now, John is one big problem for her to fix.
"Don't you dare lift that," I order her, abandoning the cart to grab the box out of her hands and wedge it into the bottom of the cart. She gives me a smile, and squeezes my arm. Little fireworks ping through my body.
