Evin's Fight (Southern Charmers 3)

“Do you mean what you said to Marco Saturday night? Do you think you would have found me?”

“With every fiber of my soul. One look and I knew.”

“I love you, Evin. More than anything ever in my life.”

“That’s what I live for.”

She smiles, wrapping her arms around me. “I think it’s my turn to play with you.”

“You got more in you, baby?”

“For you, always.”

Chapter 38

Poppy

“We’ll be home after the game.”

“Take your time. Ryanne, Dante, and I are opening the champagne and enjoying the majesty of our talents.”

“I’m sure it is magnificent.”

“Dante wishes he’d gone with you. According to him, I’ve become a bossy perfectionist.”

“Then it’s probably better I’m not there. Your bossiness wouldn’t lead to Christmas decorating with me.”

I chew on my lip, a tingle working its way down my spine. “I saved the tree for us.”

“Looking forward to that, baby.”

“Love you.”

“You too. Tell Dante to catch an Uber if he wants to join.”

The line goes dead and I grab the ice chiller with the champagne. “Are we ready?”

“We’ve had empty glasses for five minutes,” Dante shouts back.

I flip the switch, and instantly, the house is bathed in only tiny sparkling lights.

“It’s so beautiful.”

“I think we’ve outdone ourselves this year.” Dante pops the cork and pours the glasses.

“There is a lot more room to work with here than our little bungalow.” Ryanne sweeps her arm around the room. “We have thousands of lights in here and the tree isn’t even done.”

Excitement and awe ripple through me as emotions swell inside my chest. Since the year we met, we’ve decorated for Christmas together. Even when our schedules were insane, we never bumped the tradition. This year, nothing changed. Ryanne had no trouble coming back to Charleston so soon, and Dante worked it out for a few days off.

“It’s better than anything I imagined.”

“Shit, Pips, you had a warehouse of decorations for us to work with. You knew we’d go big.”

“I couldn’t help myself. This is our first Christmas married. It had to be spectacular.”

“Hmmm, now that I think of it, I’m not sure how I feel.” Ryanne crosses her arms and glances around cynically. “It’s kinda gauche.”

“It is not!”

“I have to agree, it’s not gauche. It’s bougie.”

“It’s not that either.” I stomp my foot.

“Yeah, bougie. Very elite. Like something out of a New York penthouse magazine that is meant for the rich and famous. No one really enjoys it, but it’s expected.”

My heart races and my temper flares. “That was a bitchy thing to say.”

“Oh, I know what you mean, like those houses that professional decorators spend weeks and thousands on for a few magazine shots. No warmth at all.” Dante goes on as if I didn’t speak.

“I know what may help. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.” Ryanne reaches behind the chair and produces a large gift bag. “Popsy, maybe this will bring the grandiose down a few notches.”

I snatch the bag and tip it straight over the couch, dumping the contents without a glance. The loud clank of metal stirs my curiosity and my gaze falls. All the air rushes out in a whoosh and I shove my glass at Dante.

I inspect the personalized stocking holders with pictures of all of us over the months. “These are… they…”

“Perfect for your mantle?”

“Yes, perfect,” I whisper, belatedly noticing the gorgeous Christmas stockings next to them.

A loud slap sounds as they high five in triumph. “We got you,” Dante mocks.

“You did.”

“Come on, this place is fabulous! Do you think the three of us would do anything less?”

I hang them on the mantle and my mind goes to the three stockings in Vegas that hang on the bookshelf every year. “The only things missing are yours.”

“They’ll be here next year.” Dante hands me my glass.

My throat closes and nose stings, nostalgia setting in. “We won’t be together on Christmas.”

“We’ll celebrate on New Year’s.”

“It’s not the same. It’s amazing how much has changed.”

“It’s still changing, gypsy goddess.”

I suck back the tears and smile, bringing my glass in the air. “You are the BEST, best friends a girl could ask for.”

“Damn straight.” Ryanne clinks her glass to ours. “Soon, we’ll all be living in this fabulous southern city.”

“Here’s to years of keeping up traditions,” Dante toasts. “Just think, next year, we’ll have three places to decorate.”

A rush of excitement hits as I’m swallowing and the liquid almost spews out of my mouth. “Are you saying…” It’s almost too much to hope.

“I’m not sure I’ll be here full-time, but we’ll have our studio to decorate,” he clarifies. “It’s already on my mind.”

I push back the tinge of disappointment at the reminder of our agreement. We open the studio with him as a silent partner until he retires from Cirque. It won’t be like we imagined, but we’ll make it work. Plus, I’ll have Ryanne to help.