36. CHLOE
36
CHLOE
PRETTY BOY: Happy Christmas, Dais
Waking up to Cal’s Christmas morning text was a surprise. I thought—okay, leading up to seeing the alert, I was hoping, maybe begging Santa for it—but didn’t expect it.
Tucker jumps into my bed, burrowing himself beneath my warm sheets. The heated blanket toasting the bed to the perfect temperature that I know will make neither of us ever want to leave.
I roll over with a stupid smile and respond to him.
Merry Christmas, Pretty Boy
Were you on the nice or naughty list this year?
PRETTY BOY: With the thoughts I have about you?
You think about me?
PRETTY BOY: When am I not?
PRETTY BOY: There’s something for you in my bedroom.
I immediately jump from my bed. Slipping my fuzzy sock clad feet into a pair of slippers, I sprint across the hall.
Throwing open Cal’s bedroom door, his room is pristine as always. He’s too clean and organized. Not a single article of clothing or a loose book anywhere.
I realize my excitement got the best of me and I don’t know where the present is. His bed is empty of a gift box or bag. There isn’t anything on his dresser or nightstands. The chair in the corner of the room is bare, and I check underneath it. Nothing.
Plopping down on his bed, his minty, leather, and old book smell hits my nose. I lay down for a minute, bathing in it. I love his smell.
I tug my phone out from under my butt and FaceTime Cal.
Within seconds, his face fills the screen, and I think this might be the best present. Him. Living here.
I think the best things in life are the things (people) we didn’t see coming. As if the universe knew what we needed. The universe knew I needed him.
And some days, I allow myself to believe Cal needs me too.
“Where is it?” I ask way too eagerly.
He chuckles. “Bottom drawer of the nightstand.” I reach for the one closest to me. “Other one,” Cal tells me.
I army roll across the bed, taking the phone with me. Propping my cell up against the lamp, I tug open the drawer.
Inside are two wrapped gifts. The first is around the size of a book, and I internally groan, should’ve known better. The other is a larger box, but light when I pick it up .
“Is there one I should open first?” I ask him, holding a gift in each hand.
“The one in the left hand.”
Shaking it playfully, I pretend to listen for what’s inside. “Let me guess. . . a book!”
He hikes his shoulders, not answering.
Now, if there is one thing about me and wrapped gifts—honestly, any package, but this should be no surprise to anyone—it’s that I have zero patience. I am not delicate when I open them. Paper, irrelevant. Extra sealing, useless. Bows, don’t even get me started. Just show me what the goods are.
Like a kid in a candy store, I shred the paper, revealing a book.
“I was right.” I flip through the pages, noticing a few chapters tagged, highlighted, and notes made. “You pulled a Liam. Didn’t you?” I cock my head to the side.
“No. I’m not that desperate.” He scratches the back of his neck, leaving his hand there. His cheeks are as red as a candy cane. “That book is a romcom about a couple meeting on a reality TV show. While I read it to make sure you liked it. . . I may have tabbed a few. . . uh. . .”
“A few what?”
“Quotes. Scenes.”
My brows arch. “And why did you do that?”
“Theymademethinkofyou.” If I hadn’t listened closely, I would have missed it. Then he changes the subject. “We are having Christmas lunch with my grandparents. I should go get ready soon.”
“Nope. Rewind.” I pretend to have a remote in my hand. Flipping through the pages, I read a few snippets. “You got me smut.”
“What? Men enjoy those books too.”
“Is that what fills your shelves in here?”
“Only a couple. The others are memoirs and business books.”
“Of course.” I open the other gift. Two new graphic T-shirts are folded perfectly to fit in the box. “I love them. Thank you. ”
“You’re welcome, Dais.”
I roll onto my stomach. “I didn’t get you anything,” I admit sadly.
“You already did.”
“What did I give you?”
A beautiful blonde walks in. Audrey.
“Cal. Dad is wondering when you. . . Oh, hi, Chloe. I didn’t realize you two were chatting.”
“Chloe was just opening the presents I left at the flat for her.”
“Oh really? What did he get you?” Audrey plops down next to Cal. Their sibling relationship is casual. I’m almost jealous of this version of Cal she gets.
They are strikingly similar. If it weren’t for already knowing he is two years her elder, I would bet Tucker’s life that they were twins. Same sandy hair. Same dimple in their right cheek. Same high cheekbones. Same ears.
But their eyes couldn’t be more different. Audrey’s are a deep hazel compared to his glacial blue. I wonder if his brothers have his or her eyes?
“A book,” I tell Audrey.
Audrey playfully swats at Cal. “Are you serious? A book. Idiot.” She takes the phone out of his hand. “Let me apologize for this asshat. He shouldn’t have gotten you a book. A bag or shoes—Cal, you should have gotten her shoes!” She swats at him again. “You are rich, quite rich, and you buy her a book. No wonder she didn’t want to live with you.”
“I like the book,” I chime in quietly, loving my front-row seat to their siblings’ antics.
It reminds me of how mine used to be.
How fun Christmas used to be.
“Did you hear that, Auds? Oh wait, you can’t because you're too busy listening to yourself talk.”
“I’m making him bring you home a pair of shoes. Please send me your size—never mind, States will know it. We are going shopping tomorrow with Beatrix.” She slides off the bed. “Mum and Dad want to leave in the next twenty minutes.” Audrey exits, her long blond hair swaying across her back. The strawberry blonde gone.
His mom questioned me about not coming to London for Christmas. Cal bailed us out, telling her my work schedule wouldn’t allow it.
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be.”
“I should run, but I hope you have a great Christmas. Give Miller and Riley a hug for me. There are gifts for them in my closet.”
I take a deep inhale. “Cal, you didn’t need to do that.”
“I know, but I wanted to.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I don’t fight him on it. “Merry Christmas, Pretty Boy.”
“Happy Christmas, Dais.”