28. Christmas Shopping
Christmas Shopping
Ipull my fuzzy hood further over my head as I trample through the slush and snow in the market the next day.
I have to figure out Christmas presents for these bitches, and the market is the best place to start. Even if there are fewer booths than ever now that the snow is really coming down.
Gotta love that Northeast Ohio snow.
Not.
Okay, the therapist told me to be thoughtful and express my love with these gifts. Because showing emotion is totally my strong suit.
Absolutely.
My relationship with Grandma is probably the least volatile. She and I are on pretty reasonable terms, so that seems like a safe place to start. To work the shopping muscle and get it warmed up for the harder ones.
Grandma enjoys books, muumuus, tea, herbs, gossiping, and other Earth witch things like cooking and gardening.
I keep my eyes peeled as I walk along the booths, trying to find anything that screams Grandma.
Huh. I slow my slightly frustrated gait to a full stop.
A vintage tea set draws me in. It has a floral motif, with red roses decorating the four porcelain cups, matching plates, and teapot. It’s something she would use—something she would like.
The little sticker says it’s in my price range, miraculously.
I haggle with the woman behind the booth and cross the easiest purchase off my list.
Now on to Hazel. Fuck.
What does Hazel like? Being a martyr. Maybe I can get her a cross.
Okay, no, I’m not that much of a bitch.
She’s an artist. Enjoys all manner of art supplies and artwork. She has horrible clothes. I really should buy the woman an entirely new wardrobe. Maybe get her a haircut, too. The way some layers would do her facial structure wonders . . .
I’m getting sidetracked.
Presents. Focus.
A sparkle from my left catches my eye. I turn toward it, moving closer almost against my will.
It’s a necklace. A locket with a paintbrush etched into the silver.
“There’s a protection spell on that,” a woman says, appearing to my right. I almost jump at her sudden materialization. “A very powerful, ancient one. Physical manifestations of the spell are inside the locket.”
“How much of that is true and how much is you trying to make a sale?” I ask her, raising a brow. She’s not the typical old crone you’d expect to say something like that, which I’ll give her points for. She’s around Mom’s age, with long black hair braided into a gorgeous tail down her back.
She laughs. “I respect a bit of healthy disbelief. It’s very true, but even if you don’t believe it—it’s still a pretty necklace.”
Hazel has been protecting me all my life—even as angry as I am, I can admit that. Something about protecting her feels right.
“I’ll take it.”
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Goldilocks?” Ash says, coming up behind me.
Busted. Not me looking at fucking wood-splitting axes because I have no fucking idea what to get him.
Who knew he’d be a harder buy than Hazel?
“Can I help you?” I try for sass, but the last word leaves my mouth in a whine as Ash moves in front of me, wrapping his large hand around the back of my neck and into my hair.
He pulls just a smidge to lift my gaze to his, that always indulgent smile on his face. “I can think of a few things you could help me with, actually.”
“I’m busy.” I try to clear the buzzy desire from my head. “While I understand that you could never get enough of how amazing I am, I do have a life.”
“I miss you, too,” he chuckles. “What are you doing?”
He squeezes the back of my neck and retreats, wrapping his arm around my waist instead. The hold is loose but still possessive, as if he enjoys others seeing us twisted together.
“Christmas shopping. Which is why it is a solo activity.”
“We’re only a week out—cutting it pretty close there, aren’t you?” His deep green eyes pull me in just like they always do.
“I’m supposed to believe you’ve already bought all your presents?”
“Of course I have. I couldn’t go two days this entire month without seeing something that reminded me of you somehow.”
Soft, gooey affection warms my heart. It’s official. The man is too good for me.
“I excel at shopping for myself.” We move away from the axes that were absolutely a horrible idea. “Not for others.”
“I know you well enough now to know that you excel at everything you do. But I don’t need any gifts—I finally got you to admit that you’re head over heels for me.” His smile is smug. “I’m good.”
I huff. “Does having an ego that size ever get unbearably heavy?”
“I don’t know, Goldilocks. Does it?”
It’s annoying having a partner who isn’t afraid of you in the slightest. Who meets you blow for verbal blow and doesn’t let you hide behind the coping mechanisms that have kept you safe for years.
“For what it’s worth,” he continues, “I don’t think you have an ego. I think you’re confident and strong, and I admire the fuck out of you.”
That statement absolutely doesn’t make my eyes burn.
“What sort of things do you like doing when you’re not chopping wood, fucking me, or stealing my cat’s affection?” I bulldoze through the emotional moment.
“Belle does love me, doesn’t she?” His smile is large and genuine, full of affection for the little animal who chose me above anyone else.
And I smile in return. “I don’t have a whole lot of time for much else, honestly.
Between work, taking care of Dad, and now spending time with you.
. . It doesn’t leave a ton of time for hobbies. ”
That’s unfortunate. And also inspires the best gift idea I’ve ever had.
I hide my realization behind a coy smile and a continued walk in the market arm-in-arm with my soulmate.
Ash isn’t going to know what hit him.