She turned and stomped away, heading right to the bar. I hoped she didn’t drink too much again, but I knew I couldn’t do much to stop her.
I felt the glances from the table I had been sitting at. Katy was watching us, her comrades beside her. Cami, Dee, Emmy, and Liv were with her, and their eyes were focused on the little exchange between Grace and me. Luckily, the father of the bride came into the room, bringing with him the frigid air and the smell of expensive cigars. He spoke to his daughter, swaying slightly on his feet, then stopped at the table filled with women to say something, making them all laugh.
I took the opportunity to disappear.
I had a lot of plans to make.
Michael’s eyes were wide with shock when he opened the door the next morning to find me on his doorstep. He looked me up and down. “Was the suit I brought not acceptable?”
“I need your help again. Or Larry’s, really.”
He stepped back, allowing me in. “This should be interesting.”
I followed him to the kitchen, the domestic scene in front of me making me smile. Larry, in a robe, feeding their daughter, coffee cups on the table, a half-eaten yogurt cup sitting beside one.
“Jaxson,” Larry drawled. “How good to see you.”
“He needs your help,” Michael said, sitting down, tickling Abby under the chin.
“My help? I don’t know anything about lawyers, except they are difficult to work for,” Larry deadpanned, winking at me. “And they disappear for days on end.”
I laughed, accepting the cup of coffee he handed me. “Don’t remind me. What a ghastly way to spend a week.”
“Yes, horrid that,” Michael teased. “Days alone with Grace.”
I threw him a look, which he ignored. I turned to Larry. “I’ve been invited somewhere for Christmas. It’s a family event. I can’t arrive without gifts.”
Larry grinned. He owned an online boutique that specialized in pampering products for women.
“How many?”
“Twenty-one men and twenty-one women. No children.”
His face went slack. “What?”
“I can take care of the men. Liquor. But the women, I have no idea.”
“That’s all one family?”
“One blended family.”
Michael regarded me. “Grace’s family.”
I nodded. “They insisted I come for Christmas as a thank-you for getting Grace to the wedding.”
“Which you attended,” Michael said.
“Yes.”
“I have worked for you for years. You have never once attended a co-worker’s social event outside the office. Now in the span of three days, you’re at two family-oriented events?” He smirked.
“The invitations were hard to resist.”
“Or Grace is.”
I met his knowing gaze and sighed. “Or Grace is.”
“You’re playing with fire, Jaxson.”
“I’ve already been burned, Michael. Scarred for life.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Well, then.”
I looked at Larry. “Can you help? Do you have the inventory?”
He grinned. “Oh Jaxson, you should know me better than that.” He stood. “Michael, you need to take over our daughter. My bottom line is about to get a major upswing.”
Christmas morning, I brewed a pot of coffee and sat in my silent apartment overlooking downtown Toronto. The streets were quiet, the city not yet awake. There was nothing different about the day for me—yet. But the large bag of gifts and the Santa suit I had procured promised a very different day. I wouldn’t be catching up on work, reading, or eating Chinese takeout this year. Instead, I would be spending the day with a large group of people that called themselves a family. And at the center of it would be Grace. I wondered how she would react to seeing me. Somehow, the subject of Christmas had come up on our wild Monday together, and she had told me how, every year, her Uncle Aiden dressed as Santa and appeared at some point in the day, handing out small gifts and making everyone laugh.
“He stopped eventually,” she confessed. “But I still miss it. It was the highlight of the day for me.”
I planned on giving her that highlight back. Larry had helped me with small gifts for all the women, and I had braved the crowds yesterday, procuring bottles of liquor for the men and a special box of chocolates for Grace. Her real gift was tucked into my coat pocket, and I planned to give it to her in private. I had spent hours wrapping the gifts, my fingers uncoordinated at using tape and scissors, adding bows. But it was important to me, and I did it.
Part of me couldn’t believe what I was doing. That I could care enough about another person to want to brighten their day. That I would dress up as Santa Claus in front of a group of people in order to make one person happy.
It was the same part of me that still had trouble believing I could love someone. I cared for Grace—of that, there was no doubt. But love was another thing—and something I was certain I wasn’t capable of feeling.