Chapter 18 #2
“Why?” She barks out a loud, startling laugh.
“Because I had a bunch of, what I thought was, insane information dropped in my lap last night. I was handed an exit strategy with neon lights and glitter cannons. It was the best get out of jail free card a commitmentphobe could ask for. It was gift wrapped and smelled of roses, and then I thought you confirmed it all. And even after all that, I wallowed in my ‘did he really?’ pity party for about three minutes. Then I said nah, no freakin’ chance.
” Licking her lips, she takes a step forward, her fogging exhale wafting into the space between us.
“I figured you out too, Dean Warner. And I knew Carter was full of shit. So, I did my research, realized your father’s name is also Dean Warner, and that was the end of it.
I knew. Then I got home to this.” She takes the whiteboard in one hand, and the small gift in the other.
Lifting the board between us, she shows off the last note I wrote to her.
The last one I ever thought I would write.
The magic is inside you, Anna. Thank you for sharing your family with me this Christmas.
She tucks the board under her arm and tears tissue paper from the small box, scrunching and stuffing it into her pocket, all to clear the way for what’s inside.
“How the hell did you manage this?” Angry and sad, trembling and strong, she pulls a tree decoration from the box and allows it to dangle between us.
“You were at my house the whole week, Dean. You didn’t have access to my car, except when I was in it too.
You had, like, an hour without me the entire time, and I know for a damn fact these decorations are no longer available for sale in regular stores.
” She glares at me through tear-filled eyes, shaking the small crystal bauble to show off its jar-of-hot-chocolate shape, and on the side, a large A.
“These came out nine years ago,” she whimpers.
“They were a limited-edition release, and ridiculously difficult to find. I know that, Dean, because my dad tried so freakin’ hard to get one.
He wanted this one, the one with the A, because he said the A was for Anna, even though we both knew it was for Amore Cocoa.
Amore means love,” she chokes out. “How could you have possibly found this, wrapped it, snuck it under my tree, and made it so I wouldn’t find it till Christmas morning, all in the single hour you had where I wasn’t looking? ”
“Because it was ours. My mom’s.” I take a hesitant step forward, exhaling a shaking, aching breath, and cupping her jaw in my palm.
“Would you believe me if I told you her name was Addison? If I’d said the same when I bought it for her?
A for Addison. And she made that face you’re making.
She said the A was for Amore Cocoa, and then she reminded me amore means love. ”
“You love me?” Fat, thick tears stream from her eyes and dribble back, because of how I tilt her head to keep her focus on me. “I hit you with my car and thought you were a jewelry store bandit. I was mean to you every single day you were in my house, and still—”
“I wished for you.” I inch closer, the tip of my nose tapping hers. So soft. So close. “You were my Christmas wish this year, Anna Maxwell, and you were so fucking stubborn, so insanely against taking a leap of faith, the universe knew you’d accept nothing less than this.”
“This?”
“Hitting me with your fucking car.” I bring her closer, just a hair’s breadth apart, and swallow her heady air.
“My name is Dean Warner, I really was running that night we met, and I really didn’t have anything to do with the jewelry store heists.
Also, I fight for money sometimes, but I never win the belt, cos Benny Conner’s got me beat every damn year.
He’s too proud to lose, but that’s okay, cos I didn’t wish for the title.
I wished for you.” I tug her to the tips of her toes and search her wet, smiling eyes.
“I set my tree up on December first, like I do every single year, and I pulled that A for Anna bauble out of storage. I stared at it and I wished for my Christmas angel to come find me.” I press my lips to hers.
“Then you hit me with your car, and I thought damn, Mom. That wasn’t subtle at all. ”
She chokes out a tear-filled laugh. “You’re so full of shit.”
“I want to take you out to dinner,” I rasp, suckling her bottom lip between my teeth. “On January first.”
“January?”
“Mmm. And January second. January third. January fourth…”