Chapter 11 - Gracie
GRACIE
My brother stops in the middle of the parking lot with the barn on one side and the inn on the other, and Christmas lights all around nearly blinding me.
He is an outdoorsman which means it doesn’t bother him that it’s a bitter chilly winter night.
Drew is technically my half-brother, but to me, that never crosses my mind.
The age difference is vast, which means sometimes I feel like I have a brother and other times two dads.
He crosses his arms and juts his chin out. “What the hell was that?”
I laugh weakly. “What?” I play dumb.
He stares at me blankly. “Don’t play cute. You and the hockey coach in a battle of whispers. Something I need to know?”
“Nope.” I tear my eyes away and find a focal point on the stuffed life-size Santa Claus sitting on a tractor.
“Really? Funny thing is that I’ve known you since birth, and I know when you are lying. So, what? Are you seeing that guy or something?”
Popping my lips repeatedly isn’t helping me in this situation. “Not exactly.”
“Okay, then it’s no problem that I mention to Dad that my little sister was in an odd situation and thought he might be curious to know.”
“Don’t!” That sounded far too vigorous. My eyes slice straight through him because he just walked me straight into his trap.
Drew’s eyes grow big. “There we go. Something is going on.”
I notice my breath misting in the air because it’s freaking beyond cold. “Can you just let it go for now?”
He steps back and assesses my stance for what seems like an eternity.
“No.” His brows furrow as he studies me more.
“No way.” I’m surprised by his sudden choice of words.
Then I remember that his wife belongs to the Blisswood family and there is barely a time that a woman in that family isn’t pregnant.
He doesn’t need to study me long to figure out the root of my nerves.
An almost devilish smirk formulates on his mouth while he rubs his fingers over his chin.
A rumbled laugh in his throat is concerning.
“Pregnant, huh?” He whistles. “Dad and Piper are going to love this news about their little princess.” He takes pleasure in this but not in a malicious way, that’s just not in him.
I step to him and stand tall. “You. Will. Not. Tell. Them,” I urge.
He raises his hands up. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’m leaving that all to you.”
I huff a breath because this night is not happening. Every plan that was formulated in my head has failed. First, with Asher’s parents and my careless slip, and now my brother knows my news, too.
His enjoyment from my unexpected news that my dad most definitely will flip out over is cooled to pure affection. “If you are happy about this then I’m happy about this.” The honesty in his face warms any heart, always has.
My body eases, and I can’t help but break out in a smile. “I am. I really am. Almost done with the first trimester, so I guess my accidental confession to Asher’s parents and you are not so bad.”
He touches my shoulder. “You’ll be a good mom. You’re a great aunt.” His twin girls are only a few years younger than me, but when they were babies and I was eight, I treated them like living dolls.
“I think so too.”
Drew glances to the side when he hears a kid yell out to his parents as they enter the tree area. “And you and the coach…?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
He chuckles to himself. “I’m going to have to point out that you are your parents. Your mom fell for a coach.”
My brows bounce up then fall down. “Thanks for that reminder.”
“Hey, you may be an adult, but I still get to tease you, Miss Family Tradition.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re right.”
“Is it really bad if I ask if we can have a bet to see how long it takes for Dad to say that Asher has to marry you?” He’s dead serious.
I brush him off with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I pause. “Three minutes.”
“Three seconds,” he challenges.
I lift my chin out. “What do I get if I win?”
“I’ll make you the crib and a matching rocking chair.”
Game on. Because he is great at carpentry.
“Deal. And if I lose… I’ll tell your wife that I absolutely need you at Easter at Dad’s because I’m pregnant and emotional and can’t handle matza for our five-minute Passover Seder that follows.
” He loves Lucy and would do anything for her.
But he also deserves some quiet, and any holiday with the Blisswood family is a headache even for the experienced souls.
“I accept this bet.” We smile at one another. “Now let’s hug it out, and let me know the code word that the Senior Coach has learned the news that he’s going to be a granddad again and might ask me for tools to contemplate murder.”
Accepting his open hug, I’m reassured. He gives me a moment to remember everything is fine and it can only get more exciting, even if it’s daunting.
I peer over my mom’s shoulder as I watch her sketch a design for a gorgeous long nightgown that will have soft see-through mesh and slits up both legs. Sophisticated yet provocative at the same time. Of course, comfortable as can be.
Lately, while drawing my dress designs, I’ve been focusing on her cozy pajamas that are for any occasion.
Pajamas are popular during the holidays here in the boutique.
Her entire brand is by no means small, but the boutique is where the magic happens.
Plus, Piper Crews is friendly to everyone and takes the time to talk to customers.
Not many fashionista powerhouses do that.
“You doing okay? You seem distant lately,” she asks but continues drawing. As much as she is excellent at all of the design programs on her computer, she is traditional and prefers to draw by hand just like me.
Stepping to the side, I pick up a piece of satin cloth next to the jar of candy canes mixed with chocolate gelt coins to keep my hand occupied. “Totally. Just tired.”
Abruptly, she sets her pencil down and swivels on her stool to face me. “Are you feeling okay? There are a lot of flus going around. Or is it the fact that your dad nixed my idea to invite the rabbi for Christmas dinner where we do charades?”
I snort a laugh. “Although the fact you even half joke about that is concerning… No. It’s not that.” Debating what to say, I can honestly say that I haven’t rehearsed a word.
My mom doesn’t say anything, instead waiting patiently.
“Can I tell you something and you won’t say anything to Dad? Not yet anyhow. Maybe this is the year to get that new puppy since Clove passed away. It will keep Dad distracted.”
Her eyes grow with wonder. “No puppy,” she says bluntly. Also code that she’s waiting and I’d better give her an explanation pronto.
I take a big inhale, ready to do this. “The thing is, something unexpected has happened.”
“As in?”
Clearing my throat, I pep myself to say the sentence that will change my mom’s world. “Hopefully, you see it as a Chrismukkah gift rolled into one.” Her look is stern that I better speed this up. “I’m pregnant.”
She goes still, not entirely sure what to do or say, and she stays this way for a few moments. “With whom?” There is neither disappointment nor excitement in her voice.
“The coach of the Spinners,” I answer simply.
She nods repeatedly and a smile slowly etches on her face. “Ah, I saw him outside with you once. You both looked enchanted with the other, and now you’re pregnant.”
“Yeah.”
“My baby is having a baby.” She grabs my wrists to yank me closer so she can hug me. “I knew it.”
I retreat my head back, bewildered. “How?”
She lifts a shoulder. “A sixth sense.”
“Okay, well, now you know, and I’m due in July,” I intone.
She brushes my hair with her fingers as though I’m still a child. “How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad. A little extra tired and nauseous sometimes. Maybe it’s my withdrawal from holiday cookie dough, though.”
She bops my nose with her long finger. “But still, you seem happy, and that means that I’m happy.”
I smile at her. “I’m excited, and Asher is too.”
Her face sours for a second. “So, you might want to explain that aspect of this equation.”
Shrugging, I step out of her embrace and begin to wander around the high-top table. “It happened, and we are just… figuring things out.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” She is letting me off that easy?
My mom walks to her table and picks up her pencil. “Yep. I’m not going to press. As long as he is a stand-up guy then I’ll let you two figure things out.”
Phew, I feel lighter. “Thank you.”
“I guess I’m designing some baby onesie pajamas with little hockey pucks.”
I begin to twist the ends of my sleeves around my fingers. “There is just one thing.” She looks up at me. “Can you not tell Dad? I need a little time on that front. I’m trying to figure out the right approach.”
My mom sighs and pinches the bridge of nose. “Why am I not surprised?”
My stomp back to her must look like a child complaining. “Come on, you know him.”
“I don’t like keeping secrets… but it is your news to share.”
I launch forward and wrap my arms around her for a big hug. “Thanks, Mom.”
She backs away and gives me a firm look that she is struggling to give because she just wants to smile. “But you have to tell him ASAP.”
“I promise.”
She pastes on a bright smile. “Good. How about you invite the father of my grandchild to Chrismukkah?” She holds a finger up before I can protest. “I know Asher is free because they have a three-day break over Christmas.”
My face falls because she is right. “But Dad always makes us wear Santa hats, and he wears that apron that has an elf holding a dreidel that says this elf’s favorite drinking game.”
“A great icebreaker, huh.”
She’s standing her ground, and deep down, I know she’s right. Everyone in the family has already discovered my news, and my dad has to be next.
Waiting at the entrance of the practice rink, I’m banking on the fact that a winger went down in practice, so they are taking a break early.
Asher spots me right away as he exits the ice and does a double take before he motions to his watch at one of the assistant coaches at the benches.
Grabbing his blade guards, he pops them onto his skates before he walks to me.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
I search around his back to ensure nobody is taking notice of us. “I just wanted to apologize in person about letting everything slip out to your parents. Nice win yesterday, by the way.”
“Thanks. And don’t worry about it. Life just wanted us to tell them then.”
“Well, now my brother and mom know.”
His face strains for a second. “And?”
“Both happy.”
“Good.”
I cringe at the next news I need to deliver. “But funny thing…”
Now he appears uneasy. “I’ve gotten to know you enough that when you say that, it normally isn’t funny at all.”
I hum in agreement. “You’re not wrong. However, this one there is no option. I can tell my dad by myself—”
“No. I need to be there. It’s the right thing to do.”
My mouth gapes open, and I tip my hip out to grip. “Really? Now you want to discuss traditional options?”
He rolls his eyes before he steps back to give me room because he seems to notice something. “Yeah, I can sign your cousin’s hockey stick.”
My face wrinkles “Wha—”
Declan, team owner, appears by my side. “Hello, you two. Didn’t expect to see you here, Gracie.”
“Just asking for a third night of Hanukkah present that she forgot,” he lies.
“Yep. That.” I click my fingers and point to Asher.
Declan draws a line with his eyes between Asher and me. There is zero belief in his face, and he sets his sights on Asher. “Well, I’m sure you can sign that gift to make our sponsor’s daughter happy.” There is 100% warning in that tone.
“Don’t worry.”
Declan squeezes Asher’s shoulder in passing. “Great. I’m aware how much you value thoughtful actions.” Asher winces. “Make sure the guys and all of the team return from the break with a clear head,” he calls out as he walks away.
Asher releases a deep breath. “Fuck.”
“Let’s be honest here. We’re unraveling.” I’m dead serious.
“No shit.” He drags the back of his finger across his jaw. “What were you saying before that interruption?”
Looking away, I can’t bear to see his reaction. “You’ve been invited to Chrismukkah at my parents’.”
He sighs and chuckles bitterly to himself. “Well, hopefully Santa delivered some extra holiday cheer and kindness to your dad.”
Touching his arm, I forgot how much just touching anywhere on his body sends sensations through me. “I mean, my mom is baking his favorite Yule log dessert and that normally puts him in a good mood. I can ask her to add extra amaretto or rum to the cake this year.”
He stares at me blankly. “Please,” his reply is flippant.
If the Maccabees had their oil that lasted eight nights, then he will have my alcohol to survive these nights. See? Still in a festive spirit.