Page 29 of This Christmas
Dad gives a noncommittal hum as he finishes the last extension cord, and I take it to his truck. “I’m going to run home and get dressed. I need to pick Mr. Whitaker up.”
“All right. Your mom and I will be here when you get back.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
The drive to my place from the town center is a few minutes, and not enough time to digest the crap my dad said about me getting back together with Zane. I officially think my parents have fallen off the sanity wagon with those thoughts. I can understand Mr. Whitaker feeling this way. Mostly, when a couple breaks up, oneparty stops talking to the other’s parents. This didn’t happen to me. I’ve always been close with Zane’s dad and intend to remain that way. Which may contribute to his dislike of Caryn. I wonder if I should say something. Encourage him to give her a chance.
Or do I mind my own business?
“Definitely, mind your own business,” Noelle says. I look at her with a confused expression.
“You said it out loud, so I was giving you the answer. What are we minding our own business about?”
“I was lamenting to myself. My dad dropped the nugget that he, my mom, and Mr. Whitaker would like to see Zane and I together again.”
“Ooh.”
“Yeah, never mind poor Caryn, who could be trying to impress her soon-to-be father-in-law.”
“What do you mean, trying?”
I shrug. “She’s not here. She’s in Albany according to my dad, the new town gossip.”
Noelle stifles a laugh.
“But I’m just saying that maybe Mr. Whitaker needs to give her a chance.” I sigh. “I’m going to go change and pick up our grand marshal. Will I see you there?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Thankfully,I had the keen sense of mind to clean the truck up before driving to pick Mr. Whitaker up.People honk as they pass by, waving. The twinkling lights wrapped around the wood slates give my truck a very Christmassy feel. The chief of police isn’t happy, but he’ll get over it soon.
It has been years since I’ve been out to the Whitaker house, choosing to see Bernie at the store or when he’s at my parents’ house. I pull into the driveway and head up the familiar walkway onto the porch, and knock. The door opens and Zane stands there, dressed in one of his cable-knit sweaters. Shamelessly, my eyes travel down his body and I smile when I get to his boots. They’re untied.
Perfect. After a little over a week, he’s fully embracing who he truly is. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m glad the stuffy attorney from New York isn’t here.
“Hey, is your dad ready?”
Zane shakes his head quickly and then smirks. Was he lost in thought? Did he see me checking him out?
“Yeah. Dad, Eve’s here.”
I step back from the door, putting some space between us. As much as I want to look at him, I stare off into their yard. Back in the day, they used to decorate every inch of their house and the front yard. Then Mrs. Whitaker died, and the decorations weren’t as plentiful. Mr. Whitaker stopped completely when Zane left.
Speaking of Bernie, he comes to the door dressed in a suit, and looking very handsome. “Hello, there, Mr. Grand Marshal. It’s my honor to escort you to Deer Ridge’s annual tree lighting.” I hold my arm out for him, and he gladly takes it, but switches things up, soI’m the one holding his arm. He’s always been a gentleman.
Zane rushes ahead and grabs the passenger side door. Once his father is seated safely, I go around the front and find Zane standing there.
“What are you doing?”
“I was going to hold the door for you.”
“Thanks,” I say with a nod and reach for the handle myself. “We’ll see you there.” I slam the door before he can protest or tell me he wants to ride with us. My truck if far too small for the three of us, and being this close to Zane would undoubtedly do me in. I need to keep my senses aware and far, far away from the conflict he’s creating between my heart and mind.
By the time Mr. Whitaker and I make it to the town center, everyone has gathered. We do a drive by, giving him a full glimpse of what he means to the people here.
“Oh, my.”
“They’re all here for you.”