Chapter 26
Christmas Eve has arrived, and all day I’ve baked up a storm, prepping for the dinner my kids and I have each year.
My cabinets are full, brimming over with groceries due to the ice and snow that’s predicted to roll in tonight.
North Alabama only gets one big snow a year, if that, but when it happens Singing River and the surrounding towns collectively shut down.
Without proper equipment to deal with icy roads, everything closes and people stay home.
I awoke to a phone call from Tyler asking if he could stop by later today.
We made small talk back and forth about the winter snow and before we ended our call, I threw in an invite to join the kids and me for Christmas Eve dinner.
While Penny, Austin, and Cassie headed to Texas for the holidays, Tyler made sure I knew he was staying put right here in Singing River.
I can’t stomach the thought of him alone in that apartment when there’s no doubt he’s staying to be near the kids and me.
This means I’ve spent the day with thoughts of him invading my mind, causing my snickerdoodle cookies to come dangerously close to being ruined.
Mind still reeling from his comment the other night, I grab baking soda rather than baking powder, only realizing a second before pouring it into the mixing bowl.
Daydreams of his mouth on mine play on a loop in my head.
I’m physically sweating, so worked up from these daydreams. Despite the freezing cold outside, I have to pause baking to change into a tank top.
I try telling myself it’s the heat from my stove, but I can spot a lie a mile away.
A knock sounds at my door, yanking me out of my daydreams, and Smudge takes off, barking like a tiny guard dog. Looking forward to seeing Tyler on the other side, I swing the door wide, both of us standing there saying nothing for a few seconds.
Tyler gives me a full once over, eyes sweeping up and down my person, causing my skin to heat all over again. Yeah, there’s a good chance Cassie might be right.
Only then do I realize he’s holding at least six or seven gifts. I’m hit with a pang of guilt because I only have one for him, though I know he’ll love it. Because of the nature of the gift, I’ll have to wait until it’s just the two of us, but I can’t wait to see his reaction.
Tyler’s eyes crinkle at the corners when a smile lifts across his face. “I have gifts for the kids.”
“Well, come in out of the cold.” I open the screen door and wave him inside.
“Abby, Jay!” I call down the hallway. “Come to the living room.”
Moments later, footsteps thunder down the hall. Jay enters first, followed by Abby a second later.
When Jay sees the armload of gifts, he bounces on his toes, looking back and forth between Tyler and me.
“Who are those for?”
“Some are for you and some are for Abby.” Tyler looks over at Abby and smiles. “And this one here is for Smudge.” He holds up a gift bag covered in a paw print design.
Tyler hands Smudge’s bag to Jay, who pulls out a new Lamb Chop squeaky toy and a bag of bully sticks. Jay offers a bully stick to Smudge and then turns back to Tyler.
“Can we open our gifts?”
“That’s up to your mom,” Tyler replies.
“Get to it,” I say with a flick of my hand.
Abby and Jay sprawl on the floor, while I take a seat on the couch to watch. Tyler remains standing, shifting his weight from one foot then the other, brows furrowed, clearly nervous about giving these gifts to the kids.
Abby lines hers up neatly in front of her, meanwhile Jay starts ripping open his first gift, tossing the paper and bow to the side. It’s a headset for his video game console. He immediately puts it on, and begins tearing paper on the second gift.
“Jay.” Clearing my throat, I give a quick jerk of my head in Tyler’s direction, sending a silent message to Jay with my eyes.
Jay catches my meaning, slapping a palm to his forehead. “Sorry. Thanks, Tyler. Maybe with these we’ll actually win more.”
Tyler throws his head back, laughing. “Maybe so, Jay, maybe so.”
While Jay rips, Abby slowly peels the tape, not messing up any of the gift wrap. Her face lights up when she finally pulls back the paper. I crane my neck to see the newest version of AirPods. Abby looks up, the biggest smile stretched across her face.
“Thank you, Tyler.”
Tyler’s eyes—twins to Abby’s—go tender. “You’re welcome, Abs.”
Abs.
The familiarity with which he uses her nickname hits me in the solar plexus.
Meanwhile, Abby doesn’t seem to notice it, she just smiles and grabs the next gift in the pile.
Jay opens some packages of basketball trading cards, and Abby’s thrilled when she opens a pair of earrings from a trendy brand all the girls her age wear.
Tyler leans to whisper in my ear. “Penny actually had to help with that one. I don’t know a thing about buying a gift for a teen girl.”
Imagining him going to Penny for help with this gift makes me smile.
This man truly is so thoughtful and kind.
When Abby and Jay open their last gifts, it’s not only them who gasps, but I do too, my eyes going impossibly wide.
For Abby, Tyler has gifted a beautiful open-hole Gemeinhardt flute, and for Jay, a signed basketball by none other than Stephan Curry.
The room goes dead silent, the three of us looking at Tyler. One hand goes to the back of his neck in the cutest gesture.
“Too much?” he asks weakly.
Before I can respond, both kids clamber up at once, throwing their arms around his waist, catching Tyler off guard. Tears prick the backs of my eyes at the sight. After thanking him at least ten times each, they finally release him and Tyler turns to me.
“Can’t leave your mom out, though, can I?”
He goes out to his car, returning a minute later holding three gift bags. Tyler places them on my lap, taking a seat beside me, one leg bouncing while he watches on.
With narrowed eyes, I pick up the first bag, removing tissue paper until my hand brushes two boxes.
I lift out the first to reveal a box set of high-quality watercolor brushes.
The second box is a set of professional grade watercolors.
This man has bought me not only a set of very expensive brushes, but watercolors I’ve never dreamed of owning, because I know for a fact this set runs close to a thousand dollars.
“Tyler, this is too much.” My eyes fly up to meet his.
“No it’s not,” he says, then nods at the next bag. “There’s more.”
My mouth falls open when I see that Tyler has bought me an iPad and Apple Pencil.
“I was researching things an artist might need and read about this app called Procreate. You can do all kinds of things on it. Thought you needed this.” Tyler pauses. “And one more,” he adds, nodding at the smaller bag on my lap.
Eyes on him, I reach in and hear a crinkling sound at my touch. Without even looking, I know what it is. My nose starts to sting and a surge of gratefulness swells, but I will myself not to cry when I feel my chin wobble.
“You got me orange slices.”
Tyler’s smile is tender when he repeats my words. “I got you orange slices.”
“Seriously, this is too much.”
“Mom, you’ve already said that. Now tell him thank you.” Jay prods, and Tyler, Abby, and I all laugh.
“Thank you, Tyler,” I say softly. “Thank you so much for all of this. You spent entirely too much money, but thank you.”
“You don’t think working for Austin was volunteer work, do you? I love the guy, but he’s a lot. I can assure you, he pays me well.”
His words make me laugh, but honestly, Tyler’s financial status hasn’t crossed my mind. Obviously, he has some money in the bank because Austin James is well-known around the country and Tyler has been his manager from the beginning.
“I’ve also made some smart investments with my money. Don’t you worry about all this. I wanted to treat you three.”
All I can do is grin over at him.
“Is Tyler your boyfriend or something?” Jay blurts out.
Good grief, that boy is definitely my son, saying whatever pops into his head.
“Jay.” Abby gives him a flat look. “You can’t ask things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s rude,” Abby explains.
“Well, Lucy Cochran asked me to be her boyfriend. I told her no, because I saw her eat a booger last week. But it’s no big deal if someone’s a boyfriend…or a girlfriend,” he adds, shrugging.
My eyes flicker to Tyler and then to my kids.
“Tyler and I are…friends,” I settle on, even though that single syllable feels all wrong.
The word tastes like sour milk in my mouth.
What we are is a complicated situationship, nothing and yet everything simultaneously.
But “friends” is a good enough response for the kids.
Judging by the way Tyler averts his eyes, a rueful expression crossing his face, he too hears how wrong the word sounds. “Friends,” he repeats, a hint of regret in his tone.
The four of us are quick to clean up all the boxes and wrapping paper. Jay goes to his room to test out his new headset, while Abby props up her music stand in the living room, playing her new flute. My fingers itch to use my new watercolors, but I still have to get dinner made.
Like he read my mind, Tyler heads to the kitchen. “What are we cooking?” He rolls up his sleeves, showing off those forearms again.
Why does everything about this man have to be such a damn turn-on?
First his constant thoughtfulness, the chocolate icing situation in the Chili’s parking lot, and now I get an up close and private view of stupidly sexy forearms, veins roping over each one.
His forearms are almost as sexy as his face—almost.
A couple years ago, the kids and I were tired of traditional Christmas food, being so close to Thanksgiving and all.
We decided to create our own tradition of having my grandmother’s gumbo recipe instead and I’ve made it every Christmas Eve since.
Though this is the first year my Grandmother isn’t here to enjoy it with us.