Chapter 8
Tori
Maybe Christmas ... perhaps ... means a little bit more!
~ Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas!
Gage said to come by.
It wasn’t a direct invitation, but he said anytime.
And I’m one of those people. Once I get an idea about something in my head, I think about it until I actually follow through and do it. Unless it’s a radical idea like skydiving. That, I will never do no matter how many times I consider it.
I park my car in front of Gage’s house and stare out the passenger window at his undecorated porch. There’s not even a wreath on the door.
With both hands on the steering wheel, I weigh out my options.
Drive away. He doesn’t need to know I was ever here.
Get out of the car and knock. I’d get to see Toothpick—and Gage.
…
I’m about to think of a third option when Gage opens the front door, steps out onto the porch and holds his hand up in a sort of a wave, only he doesn’t wave. It’s almost like the universal gesture for stop or stay. Does he want me to come in, stay where I am, or take off?
I blow out a long breath and open my car door.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
“You came.”
“I did.” I shut my door and step around the front of the car. “I uh … wasn’t sure … but you said anytime … so …”
“Yeah. I did. Come on in. Toothpick’s inside.”
I glance past Gage. Toothpick is right inside the screen door, his crooked tail wagging furiously.
“I think he remembers you,” Gage says in a matter-of-fact tone.
Despite his lack of emotion, the statement feels like the biggest compliment anyone’s ever given me.
“I remember you,” I say to Toothpick, pulling open the screen door and falling to my knees just inside the entry to greet him. “Oh. You are softer, aren’t you? Yes you are. What a good boy.”
I look up at Gage. He’s staring down at me and Toothpick.
“Come on in,” he says.
I stand and step out of the way so Gage can shut the door.
Toothpick stays near Gage when I walk into the front room, instinctively heading for a couch without being asked to stay.
Gage did shut the door. That’s non-verbal for I want you on this side of the shut door, right?
“Do you want something to drink?” he offers, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets.
“No. I’m good. I just had lunch. I’m really just running some holiday errands and stopping by the grocery so I can pull together my side dish for tonight.”
Gage stares at me before saying anything else.
Then he says, “Tonight at Liam and Noelle’s?”
“Yeah. I’m making a spinach artichoke dip.”
“Sounds delicious.”
Toothpick looks up at Gage and then over at me. Back up at Gage. Back at me. Then he trots over to the couch and hops up next to me.
“Is this okay?” I ask. “Do you let him on the furniture?”
Gage shrugs his shoulders. “To be honest, I don’t know what I do.
I’ve watched hours of YouTube. One guy says I’m the alpha.
I need to establish dominance. I can get behind that.
But then, this other woman says my dog has trauma.
He needs me to be a safe place. I should focus on the good and reward any behavior I like.
Then another ‘expert’ …” he pulls his hands out of his pockets and makes air quotes.
“... says I shouldn’t only give rewards, I should correct with little swats or even zaps or loud noises when he does things I don’t want. ”
Gage walks to the other side of the L-shaped sofa and sits down. Toothpick immediately leaves my side and goes over to sit next to him.
“And to be honest,” Gage says, scratching Toothpick on the neck and behind his ears.
“I don’t know what the rules are. I live alone.
Do I care if the dog is on the couch? Not really.
He’s going to be here without me a lot. Let him pick a spot on the sofa to hang out.
Why make him lay on the floor? Besides, when I’m alone watching a movie or reading a book, I might like him up here with me. ”
“I bet you would,” I say, picturing the scene vividly.
“What do you like to read?” I ask.
“War stories. Books about pilots. Technical stuff sometimes.” His voice never changes in cadence or tone.
Steady.
Gage is steady.
He might not smile often, but there’s this sweetness to him.
And he’s not enthusiastic, but he’s surprisingly passionate, even when his demeanor is anything but.
“I say you make the rules as you go along,” I suggest. “Animals are pretty tuned in. He’ll learn as you go.”
“Yeah?” Gage asks, lifting his warm brown eyes off Toothpick and gazing straight at me.
“Yeah,” I say.
“I like that.”
“Good.”
“Did you want to see the tricks he can do?” Gage asks with a shy smile. It’s the kind of smile that gives a momentary glimpse into Gage, the seven-year-old boy.
“Sure. I’d love to.”
Gage stands and walks through the dining room into the kitchen. Toothpick and I follow him. Everything’s clean and orderly. Not like my place at all. Gage pulls down a bag of treats from his cabinet. Toothpick gets excited and starts whimpering and wiggling.
“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you,” Gage says.
Then he reaches out and gently grabs my hand, turning it palm up. His eyes meet mine. I think I might stop breathing for a second. He’s just putting a dog treat into my hand. I don’t know why his touch feels like so much more.
I step back, turning my attention to Toothpick.
“What should I tell him to do?” I ask Gage.
“He knows three tricks as far as I can tell.”
“Okay.” I look at Toothpick. Then I make a finger gun and say, “Play dead.”
Toothpick drops to the floor and lays on his side, still as you like.
“What on earth?” Gage exclaims.
And then he laughs. His smile fills his face—and he laughs.
I stare at him. I try not to, but he’s just so different when he’s smiling. He’s a good looking man. But when he smiles? Watch out.
“He can do that?” he says, looking at me.
“You said three tricks. That was the first one that came to mind.”
“Man, I bet he has some stories to tell,” Gage says.
“I bet he does.” I turn toward Gage. “And the best are yet to come.”
He studies me quietly. “I like that.” And then he repeats it. “The best are yet to come.”
I give Toothpick the treat and a pat on the head. Then Gage shows me the other three tricks Toothpick can do.
The initial awkwardness I felt when I parked has evaporated. I could stay all afternoon, but I need to run errands, make my dip, and be at Noelle’s on time, so I say all that to Gage and he walks me out to my car.
“Thanks for stopping by,” he says, standing right next to the driver’s door before I shut it to drive away.
“Thanks for inviting me.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
“You did.” I smile up at him.
“Well, I’ll see you at Liam and Noelle’s,” he says.
“Yeah. See you.”
When I walk into Noelle and Liam’s carrying my pan of dip, Gage’s car is already parked out front. My first thought is that he had to leave Toothpick at home alone. Dogs are left alone all the time. Rescue dogs don’t always cope well with being left.
The house is filled with the best kind of noise. Everyone’s talking and laughing. Christmas music is playing softly in the background. And Noelle and Liam have everything decorated from the spray of real pine on the mantle to the ornaments on the tree.
I think back to the year we hired Liam as a handyman for Noelle.
And then last Christmas, we all went on that ski trip and got stuck in the cabin together.
That’s when the two separate groups became more cohesive.
Noelle and Liam were still engaged back then.
This is their first Christmas together in their home.
Gage catches my eye from across the room.
A packed basket of “man treats” is still in my car, ready for me to put on his porch on my way home from the party.
I filled the basket with things most guys usually like: jerky, dark chocolate, mixed nuts, kettle chips, and a three-pack of hot sauces.
I wanted to put a WWII novel in there after hearing how he enjoys those today, but it could have given me away.
“Here,” Gage says, walking toward me. “Let me take that for you.”
He extends his hands and takes the pan. Then he sets the dip on the table among all the others.
Mitch walks over to me. His eyes are on Gage and then he looks at me. “Hey, Tori. I like your sweater.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Not as much as I liked that funky one you wore the other day,” he says.
“Yeah, well, that one’s one-of-a-kind.”
“It suits you,” he says, his eyes on Gage again.
Gage walks over, giving Mitch a look I can’t quite decipher.
Liam grabs everyone’s attention.
“In the spirit of tradition, I thought we’d all play charades before sitting down for dinner.”
A collective groan resounds through the room.
“Or … not,” Liam backpedals.
We end up playing a round of charades and then we gather around the table for dinner. Afterward, my girlfriends and I offer to wash the dishes while the guys hang out in the living room.
“So,” Jennifer says, leaning closer to me than necessary while handing me a pot to dry. “Mitch seems to notice whenever you walk in a room.”
“Does he?”
I don’t see it that way at all. He’s more focused on Gage most of the time, even when he’s addressing me.
“No offense to Mitch, but no,” I say. “He’s nice, but not my type.”
“Your type wears a shirt in the snow?” Alyssa teases.
“For starters,” I quip back.
The girls all laugh.
“What about Gage?” Jennifer asks.
“He’s cute,” Alyssa says.
“I wouldn’t say cute. Cute is a new puppy or a baby bunny,” I say without thinking. “I’m pretty sure the concept of cute doesn’t factor in arms like his.”
“Okay, then,” Noelle says. “Do I detect a note of interest?”
I laugh her comment off—but my laughter comes out a little too forced.
“Please. Gage practically growls at me every time I speak. Or at least he used to. The past few weeks, he seems … different.”
My friends all exchange glances—the kind you exchange when the guest of honor to a surprise party walks up during one of your top secret planning sessions.
“You guys!” I quietly shriek in a voice intended to stay inside the confines of this kitchen. “What are you all looking at one another like that for?”
“What if Gage isn’t closed off anymore?” Stephanie asks. “Like what if he’s actually open to dating again?”
“He’s been different since he adopted that dog,” Noelle says, casually.
“Yeah,” Alyssa agrees. “And honestly … he’s been different around you especially, Tori.” She playfully raises her eyebrows and isn’t even a little bit subtle.
“This is all fun and games to you,” I say. “Hey, let’s see if Tori would match with the town grump.” I look around at each of my friends. “Only, he’s not.” I glance toward the living room. “He’s not the town grump. There’s a lot more to him. And … I don’t know … He’s kind of sweet, actually.”
“Tori!” Jennifer squeals.
“Shhhhh,” I scold her. “Can we just change the subject?”
“Yes,” Alyssa says. “Besides, I think you’re all forgetting he’s still coming off a bad breakup.”
“Red flag,” Jennifer says.
“Four months ago,” Stephanie defends. “That’s like four years in young adult manhood years.”
“What?” Noelle asks. “What are you saying?”
“Just that he’s had four months to grieve. We’ve all seen how he is around Tori. I think the red light may have recently turned green.”
“He’s a good guy under all that bristly exterior,” Noelle adds.
“I know,” I admit. “He really is. But being a good guy doesn’t mean he’s interested in dating. And being interested in dating doesn’t mean he’s interested in dating me.”
“But if he were … ?” Stephanie asks.
“I don’t know.”
I think about how he was on the scavenger hunt … the first moment I saw there was more to him when he served Benny his marshmallows … the way he is with his mom and Toothpick.
“I wouldn’t be opposed,” I admit. Then for good measure, I point at Noelle and Alyssa. “And neither of you say a word to your men. I don’t ever want to look back and wonder if I was asked out because he was put up to it.”
Noelle says, “I promise. I won’t say a thing to Liam.”
“Me too,” Alyssa says. “I won’t say anything to Carson. Even if it kills me.”
Not that there’s anything to say. Gage and I are not going to be together. He’s been kind, but that’s a far cry from him actually being interested in me.
Stephanie looks around the room. “Just so you all know, if Tori ends up with Gage, I am not—and I repeat, not—ending up with Mitch. Jennifer can have him and his overexposed six-pack.”
“Not me!” Jennifer says. “Mitch is firmly in the friendzone. Him and his abs.”
Our shared laughter is uncontained.
I glance around at all my friends. Each of them smiling, our eyes connecting.
And then my gaze drifts down the hallway. The sound of male voices carries in from the living room. Those guys have bonds as tight as ours. Lifelong friendships. Chosen family.
Stephanie’s words ring through my head: If Tori ends up with Gage …