Chapter 18 #3
“For whom?” I lift a brow, hoping he’ll help me out a little here.
They exchange glances, and from the looks on their faces and the way Andrew shrugs, it’s clear they have no idea what they're doing.
“Okay.” I switch into assistant mode. “Let's start with who you need to buy for. Andrew, who are you buying for?”
“My parents, everyone here, and the road crew...” Andrew's list trails off despairingly.
“Parker, what about you?” I steer the conversation toward one of the guys who may actually have his life together.
“I need something for my sister and her kids. And maybe something for Emma?” The last part is said with careful, casual hope that fools absolutely no one.
“Aw, Parker has a crush,” Zep teases, earning an elbow.
“What about you, Sir Galahad?” I turn to Zep. “Planning to impress a certain diner waitress and her adorable son?”
Zep's cheeks turn pink in the dim light of the car. “I might have been thinking about getting Jake a few things for Christmas. If that's not weird. Is that weird?”
“It's sweet. What five-year-old doesn't love presents from a knight in shining armor?” I reassure Zep.
“Gray needs to get something amazing for his girlfriend.” Cody pipes up from the front seat.
The word 'girlfriend' hangs in the air, tugging at both old wounds and new hopes. I’m reminded of last Christmas, which was long and full of small disappointments with a fragile wish for things to change.
Gray’s hand finds mine in the dark, his fingers weaving through mine in silent reassurance. “No pressure there,” he jokes, but his tone rings with genuine understanding. He knows exactly how it used to feel, and how it feels to hope for something better.
“What about y’all? Who are we shopping for?” I ask Cody and Wyatt.
“Parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews. The usual suspects.” Wyatt is the most thoughtful gift-giver, so I know he has a better idea of what he’d like to buy than the rest of the band.
“Same. Plus, I want to get something for Mrs. Patterson because she always asks about my health like I'm her actual grandson.” Cody is so stinking cute.
My heart melts a little at the thought of Cody picking out a gift for our favorite coffee shop regular. “She would love that.”
Our first stop is the electronics store, which is packed despite the early hour. The guys immediately scatter like excited children, drawn to different displays, while the focus of serious researchers remains undivided.
Parker surveys the rows of headphones, genuine puzzlement on his face. “Why are there so many kinds?”
“Well, people have different preferences. Some are for working out, some for travel, and others for professional audio...”
“Which would Emma like?” he presses, hope in his eyes.
I study his hopeful expression and try to gauge what's really happening between him and my friend. “What's she like when she's making coffee? Does she wear headphones?”
“Yes, often. She says it helps her concentrate when she's creating new drinks. Then you want something that sounds good but doesn't completely block outside noise, so she can still hear customers.” I point to a mid-range pair with excellent reviews. “These would be perfect.”
Parker looks at me like I've just solved world hunger. “You're amazing.”
I stand on my tiptoes and look over the display to search for Gray. I find him staring at smart watches with the intense concentration usually reserved for song lyrics.
“Fitness tracker?” I bump his shoulder with mine.
“I was thinking about one for Andrew. He's been talking about getting back in shape, but he's terrible at keeping track of exercise.” His bewildered expression is adorable.
“That's thoughtful. The kind of gift that says, 'I care about your health' without being preachy about it.”
“Exactly.” He turns to look at me with an expression that makes my stomach flutter. “You're really good at this.”
“At what?”
“Knowing what people need. Seeing them clearly enough to find the perfect thing.”
The compliment lands deeper than I expect. It feels like he’s seeing more than my knack for gifts, as if he’s peering right into the parts of me that want to be understood most.
Our next stop is the department store, where the guys face the overwhelming reality of women's clothing sections. I watch Zep stand frozen in front of a display of scarves, as if he's trying to defuse a bomb.
“It's for Lana. But there are so many colors, and what if she doesn't like scarves? Do all women like scarves? Why are there so many different types of scarves?” Poor Zep ponders scarves deeper than I ever thought possible.
“Zep, breathe.” I guide him away from the scarf-induced panic attack. “Tell me about Lana. What does she wear to work?”
“Jeans and t-shirts usually. Her hair is always in a ponytail because she's running around serving tables.”
“So maybe not a delicate silk scarf. What about something more practical? A nice hair clip, headband, or cozy cardigan for when the diner gets cold?” I suggest.
His face lights up. “A cardigan! She mentioned being cold during the morning shift.”
“Perfect. What's her favorite color?”
Zep’s face falls. “I... don't know?”
“What color are her eyes?”
“Brown. A really pretty brown, like coffee with cream.”
I lead him to a display of soft, sweater-like garments in warm, earthy tones and hand him two options. “Then you want something that would bring out those brown eyes. This camel color, or maybe this sage green.”
Thirty minutes later, Zep walks away with a beautiful cashmere blend cardigan, clearly proud and excited for Lana to see his thoughtful gift.
“Do eight-year-olds like action figures?” Andrew asks.
“No! Do I look like I get kids?” Cody replies, panicked.
“You're basically a child,” Wyatt notes.
“That's different! I'm an adult child who buys his own toys. Actual kids are a mystery,” Cody argues.
I step in before they can have complete breakdowns in the Lego aisle, moving between Andrew and Cody to help Andrew select age-appropriate gifts for a few neighborhood kids, while Cody examines a hardcover cookbook for his mother and a vintage band t-shirt for his music-obsessed nephew.
By the time we arrive at the outdoor gear store, everyone is familiar with the routine.
I guide each of them in their shopping while the guys fan out to grab items, joke around, and haul the bags.
Gray stays close to me, sometimes sharing his thoughts but mostly just watching as I advise Wyatt on gifts.
When I pause by the doorway, Gray's warm look draws my attention.
“You're enjoying this,” Gray observes as I help Wyatt choose between two different camping lanterns for his adventure-loving brother.
“I am. It’s satisfying to find exactly the right thing for someone you care about.”
“Is that what you're doing for me? Finding exactly the right thing?”
His question surprises me. My nerves and excitement around his gift have been distracting me for days.
This feels like our first real Christmas together.
It’s not, but it is our first healthy, present, and truly invested season together.
I want his gift to show how much this new chapter means to me and how much I want to leave behind the uncertainties of last year.
The memory is bittersweet, but today feels full of new certainty, and I ache to make this Christmas different and better for both of us.
“Maybe. Are you doing the same for me?” I try to act casual.
“I've been thinking about it since Halloween. It has to be perfect,” he muses.
“It doesn't have to be perfect, Gray. It just needs to be thoughtful.”
“For you, those are the same thing,” he says sweetly.
We’re so close I can smell his cologne. The way he looks at me in a tender, searching way makes my heart race.
There’s an electric tension. It’s the same connection that’s always been there, but now it feels stronger, steadier, and more intentional.
I let myself feel it, hope edging out the old worry.
“Can I tell you something?” he says quietly, and we've somehow moved close enough that he doesn't need to speak loudly for me to hear him.
“Always.”
“I love watching you take care of people. The way you just instinctively know what everyone needs, and how you make everything better just by paying attention.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing across my skin.
“You do that for me every day, and I don't think you even realize it.”
Before I can respond, Parker's voice cuts through the moment. “Hey, lovebirds! We're starving, and Cody wants to go to Mae’s Diner.”
We spring apart like teenagers caught making out, but Gray keeps hold of my hand as we rejoin the group. The knowing grins on everyone's faces suggest we weren't as subtle as we thought.
“Shut up,” I tell them preemptively.
“We didn't say anything,” Andrew protests with fake innocence.
“You were thinking it very loudly with your face,” I tease.
Lunch is at Mae’s Diner, just off Main Street and down a side street that looks like it hasn't changed since 1975, complete with red vinyl booths and an old-school jukebox that still works.
We pile into the largest booth they have, and I end up squeezing between Gray and the wall, his thigh pressed against mine in the cramped space.
“I love Mae’s,” Cody declares, studying a menu that includes a meal called the “Lumberjack Special.”
“Everything's better when you're shopping-induced delirious,” Parker agrees.
Our waitress is a woman in her sixties who takes one look at our group and immediately adopts us. “Y'all are not from around here,” she observes with good-natured suspicion.
“We're staying up the mountain, but we’re starving after a shopping expedition,” Andrew explains.
“Black Friday warriors! Well, you've earned yourselves some real food. The meatloaf is good, but the chicken and dumplings will change your life.” She suggests her favorites.