Chapter 19
Garrett
I’m very aware of Rory being very aware of me, and it’s killing me that I can’t drag her away to talk about whatever is going on in her busy, pretty little head.
I probably pushed too far by telling her that she’s precious to me, but fuck it, it’s true.
And if there’s a chance in hell that the truth gets us somewhere better, then that would be fucking amazing.
But Christmas Eve isn’t the time for private conversations. It’s not even time for uninterrupted group conversations. The sisters all talk over each other, both generations, and none of them seem bothered. They understand each other’s half-sentences and find everything hilarious.
It’s nice to see Rory laugh this much.
I’ve missed that.
After eggnog, Carmen tries to decorate cookies with the young monsters, but that makes a massive mess.
“I bet Uncle Dante could find you some lights to decorate a tree with outside, hmm?” she finally says. When your family owns a Christmas tree farm, there’s never an end to the decorating possibilities. “Do you boys want to go outside with your dad and Garrett?”
I’m not sure why I’m being volunteered for this, other than the fact that I’m tall, and a guy, but I don’t mind. Whatever the Minellis need today, I’m their dude.
Rory’s sisters stay inside with their mom and Aunt Tabitha, but to my surprise, she comes outside with us—and her Aunt Mara comes out, too, wearing an oversized puffy winter coat that looks, at first, like it’s paint-splattered.
“You’re staring, Garrett,” she teases me. “I didn’t actually paint in it, you know.”
“I was wondering.”
“It’s a limited edition version of this coat, featuring my work.”
Rory gasps as her aunt twirls around. “Way to bury the lede, Aunt Mara!”
“Isn’t it fun?” The older woman grins. “The royalties paid for Glory’s tuition this year.”
Dante interrupts us to ask me to get a ladder from the tree lot.
When I get back with it, Dante and Allan—and the boys—are nowhere to be seen.
“There was a meltdown,” Rory says. “So they went in search of a spotlight to help Santa find the chimney.”
“Ah.” I lean the ladder against the first tree.
“And how are you two doing?” Mara asks. Her sharp artist’s eyes take in more than I’d like. “You look relaxed.”
Heat creeps up Rory’s cheeks. “It’s nice to be home.”
“Mmm.” Her gaze flicks back and forth between us. “I bet it is. And how are you finding being chief resident?”
“It’s a lot of work.”
“Carmen was saying that Garrett takes good care of you, though?”
Fuck my life.
Rory bites her lip.
“I try,” I say.
She nods. “He’s always there when I need him, yeah.”
“What about you?” Mara asks me. “Are you still juggling the garage and the army?”
“Yep, I am.”
“And he started playing rugby,” Rory bursts out.
Her dad returns as she says that. “Did you, Garrett?”
That leads to a lengthy conversation about the different kinds of rugby, studded with toddler demands for more lights.
The whole time, Rory’s cheeks are pink.
And when we all finally head back inside for fondue and charcuterie and an obscene amount of chocolate, I catch her hand and tug her back, so we’re the last ones to go inside.
“What?” She asks, whirling around. Eyes bright.
“I know we gotta get in there, too.” I draw her close. Just for a second. Heart pounding in my throat. “We didn’t get to finish our conversation earlier. And I know now isn’t the time, either. But tonight…after everyone has gone to bed…I think we should talk. I want to talk more, about us.”
Her breath puffs out into the cold air, the temperature dipping down below freezing now that the sun is set. “Us?”
“Yeah, I—”
The door pushes open behind her. Jules pokes her head out. “Stop kissing and get in here!”
I don’t let go of Rory. “We’ll be right there.”
“We’re not kissing,” Rory says over her shoulder, but her eyes stay locked on my face.
And maybe that’s the problem.
The rest of Christmas Eve spirals from there. Chaotic, noisy, slightly exasperating. But underneath all of that is a low sizzle of anticipation for bedtime, when everyone else is finally quiet, finally asleep, and I can pin Rory down.
Maybe literally.
Roll her beneath me on the old couch and make her talk about her fears.
By the time people start to head upstairs, it’s all I can think about. A couple of glasses of egg nog have dulled my responses, too, so I don’t clue in fast enough when Rory’s dad hangs back when she goes into the downstairs bathroom to change into her best Christmas pyjamas.
“You know, Garrett,” Dante says. “I was thinking about what we talked about earlier.”
I frown in confusion. “The tree decorating?”
“No.” He chuckles good-naturedly. “The question of a wedding—”
“Yeah, no, we don’t need to talk about that now,” I say quickly, shaking my head.
“No, I know you kids will do it your own way, but I’ve been thinking about repurposing the barn into an event space. It would be nice to have a wedding here, I’m just saying. Maybe next summer.”
Behind him, there’s a crash, and Rory comes stumbling out of the bathroom in the most dramatic, she-definitely-heard-that reaction.
I hold up my hands. “It’s nothing.”
Dante laughs. “Getting married isn’t nothing, son. I know you said that it’s not about money, but if we can make it easier on you, then that’s a good thing.” He glances back and forth between me and Rory. “Right?”
I don’t answer him.
Rory doesn’t answer him.
She looks furious.
“Rory and I haven’t talked about it,” I finally say, because that’s the truth.
He sighs and turns to go upstairs, but stops beside his daughter. “Oh, Aurora. Don’t leave this one hanging for too long. You might lose him.”
All the blood drains from her face.
Fuuuuck.
As soon as he’s gone, I try to make it right, but she doesn’t let me get very many words out. “That’s not—”
“Let’s just go to bed,” she mutters, her gaze determinedly focused on the shorter of the two couches, now made up into a bed for her.
Fury rises. “What about talking?”
“I don’t want to talk,” she snaps.
This isn’t healthy, the way that we fight, how angry I get when she pulls away, how she snarls when she’s feeling defensive.
But I’ve spent the last few months thinking a lot about the why of it all, and I don’t believe for a second that Rory is mad at me when she snaps. I think she’s scared.
I just don’t know what she’s scared about.
“I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re mad that we didn’t talk earlier, that you were blindsided just now.”
She shrugs her shoulders in a tight acknowledgement that I’m on the right track.
I take a deep breath. “Earlier today, your dad asked me if I needed money for an engagement ring. If that was why we aren’t married yet.”
She snorts. “And you decided not to tell me about that.”
“Yeah.”
That gets her full attention.
She jerks her head up and glares at me. “That’s some nerve, keeping something like that from me.”
“What would telling you have accomplished? It didn’t bother me that he asked. I told him we’re fine for money, and that was the end of that.”
“It gave him the idea—” She cuts herself off.
I raise my brows. “What, that we’re together?”
Her gaze sparks, a warm ember glowing suddenly very hot and very bright. I shouldn’t enjoy that as much as I do. The way it heats her up from the inside out, making her cheeks pink and her chest heave.
But it’s so close to how she looks when she’s turned on.
She even said as much, that she likes getting mad because it takes her to this space, where she shuts off her brain and just feels. And I really like making Rory feel things.
“Look, I get that this was my terrible idea, but you don’t need to dig us into an even deeper hole,” she says hotly.
“Ah.” I step closer, because this is a conversation that can’t carry up the stars. This is private. “You don’t want to give anyone the idea that I’m over the moon in love with you. Together, yes. Happy, no. That’s the status quo we need to maintain.”
“Exactly.” Her eyes blaze now.
“Because at some point soon we’re going to be very publicly over.”