27. Sutton
Sutton
The moment I step through Greer’s front door, the smell of fresh pine and cinnamon wraps around me like a hug. Twinkling lights drape the room in a golden glow, and a tree in the corner shimmers with colored ornaments.
I place grocery bags of food on the counter.
My stomach flutters, a mix of nerves, hoping Hunter is okay after the fire last night, and excitement to be spending time with my people.
I smooth the sweater Hunter picked out for me, feeling the soft fabric under my fingers.
It was supposed to be an ugly sweater, but Hunter knows me well enough that he chose the least ugly sweater he could find.
The sleeves are the right length, the color a little brighter than I expected, and, thankfully, there are no puffballs or jingle bells, only a beautiful sequined Santa.
“What the hell, Sutton?” Navy hollers from the kitchen. She’s elbow deep in gingerbread batter and wearing a sweater with a massive Frosty the Snowman plastered on the front saying Well, frost my cookies.
“I just walked in,” I say. “How can I already be in trouble?”
“That is not an ugly sweater,” she states plainly.
“Blame Hunter.” I shrug and blow her a kiss. I place my White Elephant gift among other gifts tucked under the tree and join Navy.
Greer’s house has been completely transformed into a winter wonderland, every surface adorned with lighted garland.
Tonight is just for us, our family. Another seasonal kick-off event Greer eagerly volunteered for.
If you’d have told me when I first met Greer that she’d someday be the Martha Stewart of holiday parties, I would’ve thought you were crazy.
“Hey,” Greer says. “A little help.” Grocery bags hang from her arms like fifty-pound weights. Navy and I quickly grab a few before she breaks an arm. Inside are bags of candy and frosting, a few bags of chips, and . . .
I look up at Greer, brow furrowed. “Why do you have enough Cool Whip to feed an army?”
“For pie and hot chocolate and . . . other stuff.” Greer practically whispers the last part.
Navy burst out laughing. “Don’t tell me you and Luke are into food in the bedroom?”
“I’m not telling you anything,” Greer says. The color of her cheeks gives us all the answer we need.
I shiver in mock disgust. “This is information I do not need to know about my brother.”
Navy rolls her eyes. “Says the woman who—”
I rush forward and press my hands against her mouth. “Say another word, and I’ll murder you.”
Greer pours a glass of sparkling rosé into a stemless glass and passes it my way. With my free hand, I take a huge gulp, my throat burning from the bubbles. Navy grunts against my hand and nudges me with her hips. I let my hand down.
“Am I missing something?” Greer asks. “Says the woman who what?”
“Nothing,” I shout at the same time Navy says, “Has super hot office sex.”
Wine sprays from Greer’s mouth as she doubles over in laughter. “That is so hot,” she says. “I wish Luke had an office. Or I did.”
Navy groans. “This is depressing. I’m the only one of us not having sex.”
At that exact moment, Luke walks into the room. He looks between the three of us, sets down a veggie tray, and leaves.
Luke’s hasty exit sends us into another fit of laughter, but eventually it fades into the warm, crackling buzz of evening.
Greer adjusts a strand of garland for the fiftieth time, Navy wipes gingerbread batter off her sweater, and the room hums with the kind of comfort I used to think only existed in movies.
The rest of our friends arrive all at once. Coats pile by the door, A Christmas Story plays as background noise, and the soft glow of the lights makes the moment feel like a Hallmark movie. But Hunter is nowhere to be found. I check my phone but don’t have any missed messages from him.
Me: Everything okay?
“Look at you,” Grace says from across the island, her smirk sharp but playful. “Someone sure looks happy.”
“I am.” I don’t deny it. I can’t. It feels like I’ve done nothing but smile lately, and I let myself lean into it. For so long, I avoided my feelings for Hunter because I was too afraid that if I admitted them out loud, he’d be gone before I took my next breath.
Just like Brandon. Just like the baby. Just like Dad.
But if Hunter’s shown me anything this year, especially these last few months, it’s that my attempt to control everything isn’t really control at all, but avoiding what would truly make me happy. Letting go doesn’t bring chaos. It makes room for the good things Life has to offer.
Grace raises a brow like she wants to dig for more information, but before she can, Navy swoops in and throws an arm around my shoulder.
“Speaking of happy,” Navy says. “You’re looking especially glowy tonight, Grace.”
Grace’s eyes widen, and she tucks her lips between her teeth, trying to contain a smile. Just as she’s about to say something, Vinnie comes bounding into the kitchen.
“Where’s Hunter?” He shoves a handful of muddy buddies into his mouth.
“Unlike you boys,” I say, “who can handle late nights full of heart-pumping adrenaline, Hunter isn’t used to that much action. He was dead to the world when I got over there after my meeting with the caterer, so I left him to sleep. No one wants to be around that man when he’s tired-grumpy.”
Vinnie nods and heads back to the couch. Adam and Luke queue up the original animated How the Grinch Stole Christmas movie. Where is Hunter? He should be here by now. I was hoping he’d at least watch this version of the Grinch.
I pull my phone halfway from my pocket, considering calling him, but I shove it back down. Tonight isn’t about worry. He’ll be here soon.
“My god,” Navy says, looking me up and down. “Now you’re all glowy.”
“I am not glowing,” I say, and throw my attention to Grace. “But she definitely is.”
There’s no denying Grace’s reaction this time as a smile blooms across her face. “If I’m glowing, that means I’m hiding the nausea well.”
Greer and Navy squeal.
“I knew it!” Greer shouts. “You owe me twenty bucks.” She gestures at Navy to pay up.
It only takes Grace to settle her hand protectively over her stomach for everything to click into place.
“Adam and I are pregnant.”
Each word hits me square in the chest.
She looks past my shoulder to Adam sitting on the couch. His smile equals hers. Both Luke and Vinnie clap him on the shoulder and offer up their congratulations. Greer and Navy surround Grace in a hug and devolve into laughter and high-pitched jabbering.
I remain rooted to the floor. Hands sticky. Pulse fluttering.
Luke bumps my hip. “You okay, sis?”
“I’m good,” I say softly as warmth creeps up my neck.
Vinnie turns up the movie volume, and I’m grateful for the distraction. Conversation splits into a dozen different directions at once.
It’s not like Grace’s pregnancy is unexpected news. They’ve been trying for over a year to get pregnant. And if anyone deserves this, it’s the two of them. But there’s still that tiny corner of my heart filled with jealousy because I never got to have a moment like this.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and smile, thinking of Hunter. Someday, I’ll get to have a moment like this, but right now, this is Grace’s.
Laughter and the scent of pine and cinnamon wind through the room.
I let myself sink back and breathe it all in.
As everyone gathers around the kitchen table to hear Greer’s mile-long list of rules for the gingerbread house competition, I wrap my arms around Grace and rest my chin on her shoulder. “I’m really happy for you,” I whisper.
When she rests her hands over mine, the thread of jealousy and sadness flies away. “I know you are,” she says. I can hear the smile in her voice.
Before I know it, we’re gathered around the table, armed with gumdrops and icing bags, building gingerbread houses.
Almost immediately after starting, Luke and Adam escape to reload on snacks and put on the next movie, each leaving behind a sort of lean-to structure with sprinkles thrown on for good measure.
“You know,” Navy says, grabbing another gingerbread cookie and biting its head off, “I like this version of Sutton.”
“This version?” I squirt a line of icing down one edge and press it to the adjoining wall. “Are there other versions of me I’m unaware of?”
“Yes,” Navy, Greer, Grace, and Vinnie chorus.
I roll my eyes. “You guys are crazy. I’m the same Sutton I always am.”
“No, you’re different.” Navy’s tone leaves no room for argument. “From the moment I met you, you’ve been smiley and happy, but it always felt like there was something else there. Like the happiness was a little forced. But then we went to Colorado, and, I don’t know, you seem more you than ever.”
Butterflies erupt in my stomach. My first instinct is to deny, deny, deny. But there’s truth in her words. Up until recently, I don’t think I’ve ever been unapologetically myself. And now, for the first time in six years, I feel still. Settled. Like the edges of my world feel softened.
My hand rests over my heart. I think of Hunter. His touch. His kisses. A warmth spreads through my chest. I don’t know how long that feeling lasts. Only that it settles deep. A little light in a place inside me that had been dark for too long.
“I suppose I am more me now,” I say. “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s a very good thing.” Greer bumps my shoulder.
We fall into an easy rhythm building our houses that look progressively worse the more competitive we get.
Navy trash-talks Vinnie. Greer does that teacher thing and pretends not to care. Grace eats her front door. The room smells like cinnamon and home.
I press a peppermint into the roof of my gingerbread house and smile when it fits perfectly. For a moment, I feel free. Maybe I’m allowed to feel this, let myself be incandescently happy without thinking about the what-ifs.
The tree lights blur into soft gold across the room, and laughter fills every corner.
Vinnie looks between my gingerbread house and his own. “Allowing an interior designer and professional baker into this competition is really unfair.” He steals a piece of licorice from Greer. She elbows him in the ribs at the same time Navy chucks a handful of M&Ms at his face.
“Luke,” Grace calls from the head of the table, “your phone’s ringing.”
Luke steps around the island and grabs his phone off the sideboard. “Hello.”
Just as all-out war is about to erupt over who’s the winner of the gingerbread house competition, Luke’s expression shifts.
“This is him. Who’s speaking?”
Luke’s gaze catches mine. I stand from my chair, shushing everyone at the table.
“How can I help you, Ashley?”
His face morphs into something I can’t quite name, and he braces his hand on the back of the couch.
“Hunter?” Luke says.
The name lands in the middle of the room like an anvil.
Every eye turns to Luke, but his eyes remain locked on mine.
Something is wrong.
“We’re on the way. What room are you?” Luke says, wheeling around to grab his keys from the basket on the counter.
The rest of us go still in the glow of the Christmas lights.
Luke pauses at the edge of the island and looks back at me.
His eyes snap shut.
My stomach drops before he even speaks.
“Already am,” Luke repeats quietly, answering whoever’s on the other end of the line.
He goes still listening.
“What happened?” he asks a second later.
Another pause stretches between us.
“We’re on the way. You can tell her yourself when we get there.” Luke ends the call, tucking his cell phone into his pocket.
The room turns into a storm of action—chairs scraping back, whispered calls for shoes, keys, and purses.
Based on Luke’s response, it sounds like he was talking to Hunter. That’s a good sign, right?
Greer steps forward. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Hunter,” Luke says. “I’m not sure what’s happened, but he’s in the ER at Suncrest Valley Memorial.”
My eyes go wide, breath faltering. Navy’s arms wrap around my waist at the same time Greer takes my hand.
“Luke,” I say, “is he okay?”
Tears pool at the corner of my eyes.
Luke nods. “He says he is, but he needs us.”