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“Uhm…” She coughs, hiding the stutter in her voice as she presses against my ribs, pushing me away. I let her go, a low chuckle slipping past my lips as she brushes trembling hands over her denim-clad thighs and refuses to look in my direction. “The, uhm, the present?”
“Oh, right. That,” I say, digging into the pocket of my hoodie. The black envelope is snatched from my grip the second I pull it free, and Ryan laughs in relief, finally flicking her eyes to mine.
“Thank you.” She beams.
“Don’t even worry about it. What is it anyway?”
Ryan’s eyes sparkle with pride, but she shakes her head, and Bailey’s gaze snaps up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she thanks Ryan profusely for the gifts. “I can’t believe you did all this, Ry,” she says, her voice trembling.
“Yeah, well, you only turn thirty once, right?” Ryan shrugs, a ghost of a smile on her face as she strolls across the room and slaps the envelope into Bailey’s hand. “Happy birthday, Bails.”
“Ryan, you got me more than enough already.” Bailey gestures to the presents surrounding her, a confused look on her face as she flips the envelope over and peels it open. She gasps when she tugs out a sheet of paper, and her eyes widen with shock. Ryan’s smile is blindingly beautiful as she watches my sister, and I can’t force my eyes away.
Not when Bailey flings her arms around her shoulders, squeezing for dear life, or when Dad booms laughter from behind me somewhere. Not even when my mum comes to my side to natter away in my ear.
I’m frozen; suspended in time with only Ryan as my anchor.
If I didn’t realise it before today, I certainly know it now.
I’m going to spend the rest of my life with that woman.
12
Ryan
Steamripplesthroughtheair, the scent of rich chocolate and vibrant orange flooding my senses. Bailey steers us towards a small booth tucked in the corner of the little café before dropping the bags from her hands and falling into one of the couch cushions with a heavy exhale.
“I’m pooped,” she says, reaching for a hot chocolate as I take a seat opposite her. I pass one of the loaded mugs into her waiting hands and blow the steam on my own before inhaling deeply. I hum happily as I hunker down on the couch. “But I think we’ve ticked everything off the list.”
“Not quite,” I tell her, laughing at the petulant pout on her face when she looks at me. “We need to head to the jewellers and pick up the watch for your dad. Then I want to go get that Unicorn Operation we saw for Gracey.”
“Okay. Two more and done, yes?” She looks hopeful as she sips on her hot chocolate, and I grin sheepishly. “What else?”
“Chase,” I mutter.
“Oh fuck,” she grumbles, scrubbing her hand over her face. “He’s the hardest to buy for. Why did we leave him for last?”
“Becausehe’s the hardest to buy for,” I deadpan.
“Every year, we do this to ourselves. What if we just stick some cash in a card? Chuck him a twenty and say Merry Christmas?”
I laugh. “And face the wrath of Mumma B for not putting thought into a gift?”
Bailey shudders at the reminder of what happened six years ago, when we were both poor, unmotivated, and not in the Christmas spirit. We gave everyone a card with cash inside it, thinking it would be appreciated more than whatever cheap tat we could throw together last minute. Turns out, we were wrong. Very wrong.
“The way she went off, you’d have thought someone died. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mum so disappointed in me. At least you got off somewhat easy, as the adopted daughter she never signed up for. She’s never let me live it down. I’m surprised she didn’t edit me out of the family picture that year. Ironically, when Eli did the cash thing the year Grace was born, he was basically the patron saint.”
Sipping my hot chocolate, I shake my head in amusement. “That’s because he gave her a grandchild. And unless you’re about to pop one of them out…”
She grimaces, her face paling. “Absolutely not. No babies here, thank you.”
“That’s what I thought,” I quip, smiling at my friend. “So, we need to get our thinking caps on and get Chase something, lest we do get kicked out of the family photos this year.”
“What do you buy the guy who wants for nothing?”
I shrug, gazing out of the window at the grey, dreary sky in thought. The thing is, I’m pretty sure I know what Chase wants for Christmas this year, but it’s not a gift I can go into a shop or purchase, or something I can throw on a gift card and walk away.
It’s me.
