Epilogue
GRACIE
Five months later
“This isn’t a cocktail bar,” Benson grumbles, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Randi add a piece of pineapple to the glass of the Malibu sunset.
She shoots him a dirty look as she sets the glass down in front of me, Analise already sipping her blue lagoon. “You told me I could do it,” she reminds waspishly. “And you told me you weren’t going to hover.”
“I’m not hovering.” Randi pointedly looks down at where his feet are planted—directly behind her with a distinct lack of personal space. “This is my bar,” Benson argues. “I can stand where I like.”
“No, you can’t,” Randi counters. “Go back to your office. Your face is scaring off customers.”
I snort into my drink, and Randi’s mouth curves into a smirk—one that only widens when Benson growls and stomps away, the door to his office slamming behind him a second later. She turns to us, asking politely, “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, we’re good,” Analise laughs. “Thanks, Randi.” We grab our glasses and find a quiet table on the other side of the bar, and I sigh appreciatively as I sink into my chair.
It was nonstop at work today, a bunch of people seemingly having forgotten that they want flowers as part of their Christmas decorations until the last minute.
“Where are Nick and Braxton?” Analise asks curiously.
I roll my eyes. “Playing video games and drinking beer,” I say dryly. “Their pre-Christmas boys’ night.”
“Sounds thrilling,” she says dryly, her eyes on mine. “How are you feeling? Last Christmas was…” She trails off, making an eek face.
“You’re not wrong.” I trail a finger over a smooth knot in the wood, thinking about everything that’s happened this last year.
“I’m…” I inhale deeply, filling my lungs.
“I’m good. Braxton and I have been a lot more open about how we’re feeling and where our heads are at.
He’s been hinting that he’s ready to move forward, but he’s not pushing me, letting me decide what pace we move at. ”
“I’m glad my brother didn’t completely destroy the best thing that ever happened to him,” Analise observes thoughtfully. “It would have sucked if we had to kick him out of the family.”
I can’t help the laugh that spills out, and she grins back at me, eyes gleaming. “What about you?” I demand. “You’re finally back home. Are you happy about that?”
Analise moved back to Sterling Creek not long after my birthday, and she’s working hard to get her new editing business off the ground.
“I am,” she murmurs. “Everything feels like it’s just fallen into place.
” There’s nothing in her words that give me pause, but her green eyes have dimmed slightly, not quite meeting mine.
“I need to move out of Mom and Dad’s place.
I don’t mind living with them, but I need some space for myself. ”
“That’s understandable,” I murmur. “It’s a big adjustment, going from living by yourself, even in dorms, to moving back in with your parents.”
“Right?” Analise takes a long, healthy sip of her drink before setting it back down, continuing, “Privacy? No way! Boundaries? They don’t know the meaning of the word.”
I lean forward with interest. “That sounds like you need privacy and boundaries. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Analise and I have grown close, and she often joins Bridget and me on nights out. The only reason Bridget bailed tonight is because she had a date with some guy she met at the grocery store, and I’m still sore she refused to tell us his name so we could stalk him online.
“There might be something,” Analise says quietly, her cheeks filling with color. “But you can’t say anything. Especially not to Braxton.”
I sit back, eyebrows climbing my forehead. “Is that because it’s someone Braxton knows?”
The blush crawls down her neck and collarbones, even as she huffs. “This is Sterling Creek. It’s impossible to meet anyone my family doesn’t know. Anyway, when there’s actually something to tell, I’ll let you know.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” We clink our glasses together, sharing a grin.
I sit back and take a leisurely slip, unable to stop myself from thinking about how different things were a year ago on the same night.
Braxton and I weren’t talking, and it felt like we were well past over.
There was still so much I hadn’t learned yet, so much pain still to come, and it didn’t seem like there was any way forward for us.
Braxton has been hovering closer than usual the last few weeks, his mind in the past as much as mine has been.
He offered to cancel his night with Nick, but I told him it wasn’t necessary.
If there is anyone who needs time with a friend—as well as a drastic shift in perspective—it’s Nick.
But I’m not overly surprised when I look up after another two rounds of fruity cocktails to find the two familiar faces sauntering through the front door, heading straight for us.
Ryan is a step behind them, but he veers off to the bar, presumably to order their drinks.
“What’re you doing here?” Analise cries out as Braxton comes to stand behind me, her expression tight with annoyance. He ignores his sister, resting his hands on my shoulders and leaning down to press a kiss to my jaw, his stubble tickling my cheeks.
Nick grunts. “Having a beer.” He pulls a chair out and drops into it, his expression as dark as it’s been for the last few months. “Didn’t know we needed your permission, Annie.”
Her mouth presses into a flat line. “That’s not what I said. I just planned on having a good night tonight.”
He flicks up a brow. “And you couldn’t do that with us around?”
“I couldn’t do that with you around,” she claps back, but falls quiet when Ryan appears at the table, pulling out a chair beside her.
“Hey,” he greets on a rumble. “Randi insisted we get a cocktail each.”
Nick scoffs, glaring at the glass in Analise’s hand. “I’m not drinking those girly fucking drinks.” He crosses his arms over his chest, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I lean my head back just as Braxton looks down at me, but he shakes his head at the question in my eyes.
He grabs a chair from the table behind us, yanking it to my side and sits down, his hand landing on my thigh, fingers digging into the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Missed you today,” he murmurs, leaning in close enough that his lips graze the shell of my ear. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
I shoot him a small smirk. “I thought you were planning on crashing at Nick’s again.”
“He’s a miserable bastard tonight,” Braxton raises his voice enough that Nick hears him.
“Fuck off, asshole.”
I lean against Braxton’s side, pulling his attention back to me. “I would love that. I need to pick up a few last things tomorrow in Ashland, and I’m sure you haven’t finished your Christmas shopping.”
Braxton’s expression is all kinds of offended. “Why would you think that?” I don’t bother answering, just staring him down, and he rolls his eyes. “Fine, I haven’t,” he admits grudgingly. “But it’s only because shopping in this town is impossible. Mrs. Chamberlain has spies everywhere.”
Across the table, a laugh peals out of Analise, her eyes twinkling. “She hates you,” she crows, “but she’s actually the sweetest old lady.”
“You’re only saying that because she likes you,” Braxton argues. Her expression screams duh, but before she can say anything, Randi appears with three identical cocktails on her tray.
“What are these?” I ask with interest as she sets one in front of each of the guys.
“Dirty little virgins,” she tells us, making Ryan choke on his first sip. Nick guffaws, his expression easing for the first time since he walked in.
Braxton doesn’t look sure as he raises the glass to his lips, smacking his lips as he drinks. “That’s, uh…fruity as fuck.”
Analise starts cackling all over again. “The dirty little virgin is fruity as fuck. That’s fitting.”
Braxton’s face warms before he laughs with her. “You know what, it’s not bad. Once you get past the sweetness.”
Ryan’s lips quirk, his eyes sliding to Analise. “Also something that could be said about virgins.”
Her eyes go impossibly wide, but she doesn’t look at him, focusing on Randi, shaking her empty glass. “I could use another. Dealer’s choice. Hit me with anything!”
“Dangerous words,” Randi tells her, “but challenge accepted. Be right back.”
Braxton
There’s a very different feel in my parents’ house this Christmas, and it all starts and ends with Gracie.
At least, for me it does.
I can’t stop staring at her where she’s sitting with my mom and Analise, all of them drinking eggnog that’s probably more brandy than anything else. Gracie’s cheeks are rosy, and her eyes are more blue than gray, filled with warmth as she laughs at something my mom says.
She’s wearing an ugly sweater, a fuzzy green thing with a giant snowman couple dancing on the front. My own is a red one with prancing reindeer…because apparently, I’ll do anything Gracie asks, especially when she decides we’re making our own traditions this year.
I didn’t have any complaints about the matching pajamas. I had a hell of a lot of fun peeling them off her last night.
I drop down onto the couch next to Nick, his expression not having improved at all since the other night. “You alright, man?”
He slides me a long look before his shoulder lifts. “Fine. Why?”
I stifle a sigh, adopting a casual tone. “Just asking. Where’s your dad spending Christmas?”
Nick opens his mouth, closes it with a clack of his teeth, before slumping back against the couch. “He’s visiting my mom and Paisley.”
My eyes widen in surprise, and I lean closer, lowering my voice. “Shit, really? Why didn’t you say anything?”