Best Friends Don't Kiss

“Oh my God!” I exclaim, but it becomes impossible for me to stay angry when Luke is grinning down at me like that. “Ugh! You make me so mad!” I add, but giggles follow every word.

“But you’re giggling, Ace. How can you be giggling if you’re mad?”

I blink my eyes several times, trying to see past the soft, dusty illusions that have settled on my eyelashes. “Because you also drive me insane.”

Luke chuckles, but in an instant, his eyes go from playful to serious. He leans down to press a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Merry Christmas, Ava,” he whispers against my skin. “There isn’t anyone else on the planet that I’d want to spend this day with.”

“Ditto,” I whisper, and my breath is pale against the numbing air.

His eyes search mine, and I don’t know what he’s looking for or what he finds, but whatever it is, it makes him smile.

My gaze flits to his lips, and I reach up, placing both my hands on his cool skin, and gently tug his face toward mine. But before I get to do what I really want to do—kiss the hell out of him—I’m startled by the sounds of the wreath on the front door jingling as it swings open.

“What the hell are you two doing out here?” I look over Luke’s shoulder to find my dad standing on the front porch, dressed head-to-toe in red velvet, black boots, and a fake white beard. A cup of hot chocolate steams from his hand.

Luke glances back toward the front of the house. “Oh, holy fuck,” he mutters, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he buries his face against my shoulder. “Am I seeing shit, or is your dad wearing a Santa suit?”

“Oh, you’re seeing crystal clear.” I giggle. “Santa Claus has officially come to town.”Once Luke and I changed out of our wet clothes, we headed downstairs to find the whole Lucie gang—Kate and Zach, Landon and Em, and my parents—sitting around the breakfast table, feasting on Guy’s famous Christmas Day breakfast buffet.

Cinnamon rolls and pancakes.

Waffles and eggs.

Biscuits and gravy.

And well, pretty much any morning-inspired food item known to humankind.

We ate, we laughed, and we all most likely walked away from the kitchen with an extra five pounds.

But now that our bellies are full and my dad has what he calls “Guy’s Famous Christmas Tunes” playing through the Bluetooth speakers in the living room, it’s time to gather around the tree and open presents.

“Who wants to go first?” my dad asks, looking around the room, and to my utter surprise, Luke stands up from his spot beside me on the small sofa near the bay window.

“If you don’t mind, Guy, I’d like to start us off by giving Rose and your girls a gift.”

My dad’s lips curve into a smile beneath his fake white beard. “By all means, get us started, son.”

Luke walks over to the tree and picks up four large wrapped gifts, all the same size and shape, and hands one to my mom, then to Em, then to Kate, then to me. “Merry Christmas, Ace,” he says with a little wink and sits down beside me.

All four of us just kind of sit there, looking at one another, and it takes Luke saying, “Go ahead, open them” before we actually begin to tear into the wrapping paper.

But none of us anticipates what’s inside.

“Oh, Luke.” My mom gasps and puts a hand to her lips.

Em looks up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes.

Kate smiles.

And I just stare down at the gift in my lap in awe. “W-when did you do this? H-how did you do this?” I ask and lift my eyes to meet Luke’s soft gaze.

It’s the painting. The one I did of my sisters and Mom and me before I took a hiatus from painting all together.

“I saw the painting in your studio, and I just…I felt like your mom and sisters needed to have it. So, I had to borrow it from your apartment for a short while to have these prints made and framed.”

“You did this, Avie?” my dad asks, and I look up to meet his eyes. They shine with pride and love, and it makes a knot form in my throat.

All I can do is nod.

“My God, Ava. Your talent takes my breath away,” my mom whispers, her voice tender. “That’s you, you know,” she says and points to Kate. “Inside my belly, that’s you.”

Kate’s eyes shine with unshed emotion as she smiles at Mom. Then, she turns her attention to Luke. “Thank you for this,” she says. “This is…the most special gift I think I’ve ever received.”

“Me too,” Em says and leans back to rest her head against her husband Landon’s shoulder. “Ava, you’re so talented, it’s unreal.”

“She certainly is,” Luke agrees, and when a single tear flows down my cheek, he wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to his chest.