Page 55 of Season's Schemings
Because honestly, I’m enjoying my time with Seb way too much. The two of us spent all day yesterday baking cookies and gingerbread people in everyone’s likeness while we blasted Christmas music. Turns out that Sebastian Slater knows all the words to “All I Want for Christmas is You,” is an absolutely terrible baker, and is somehow an even worse cookie decorator. We eventually made an assembly line of cookies that we were able to decorate and arrange in boxes to store overnight.
Seb made me laugh, in particular, when he “accidentally” broke the foot off the Adam cookie and fed it to Dot’s scrappy little terrier, Porkchop.
“Skiing accident,” Seb told me gravely when I assessed the damage. “He may never walk again.”
I grabbed the cookie, bit off the other foot, and declared, “No, he willdefinitelynever walk again.”
Seb laughed at this, and I inhaled the velvety sound, committing it to memory.
After we finished baking, we went for a walk into the village. The cabin is a couple of miles away from the little mountain town, and it’s a beautiful walk to get there, whether you take the residential side streets—the way I like to—or the snowy, twisty-turning, hiking trails through the forest—Jax’s preferred route.
In town, Seb and I went to a cozy little cafe, where we sat in front of a roaring fireplace, talking for hours about everything and nothing all at once.
It was amazing.
Once Elizabeth is done cooing over her new necklace, Dot harrumphs and shoves a large square package onto Adam’s lap. “This one is from me, for you and your fiancée.”
Adam takes the package, without thanking his grandma, and rips it open. He stares at the contents until all of us are staring at him, too. Waiting.
“Well?” Elizabeth demands. “What is it?”
Adam holds up a vintage-y wall sign—one of the ones you buy on Etsy or at craft markets with swirly letters that spell out inspirational quotes.
Only this particular sign says:
Live, Laugh, Love
Don’t be a dick
“Oh!” Elizabeth squeaks, looking scandalized in a Jane Austen sort of way that I must say really suits her.
“Mother!” Alicia exclaims. “That’s… entirely inappropriate.”
“Thought it would look good on your bathroom wall,” Dot declares with a sniff, ignoring her daughter-in-law and staring right at Adam. “Sometimes we need a reminder when we’re doing our business.”
I smush my lips together in an effort to keep the laughter that’s currently bubbling in my chest from pouring out. Seb’s shoulders begin to shake and he tightens his grip on my hand.
This might be my favorite Christmas morning ever.
I’m so relaxed and content watching everyone else swap gifts that I let my hand sneak into Seb’s hair, running my fingers through it while my mother gifts my stepdad with a new watch, and then opens his gift of a gingham apron. Savage.
Alicia gives us all socks and gift cards—she was even sweet enough to include Seb—and my mom gifts me multiple self-help books. Different than the ones Jax threw in the trash last month because these are themed along the lines of “How to Make Your Husband Stay” and “Don’t Screw Up Your Marriage.” Which she must have run into the village to grab for me yesterday, because she literally didn’t know I was married until I turned up here with Seb.
I thank her with a grimace, shoving away the thought that I will have to tell my mother at some point down the road that my marriage is over, and Seb has, indeed, not stayed.
I’ll just blame the stupid book for giving me bad advice.
Sebastian and I didn’t discuss gifts—because I certainly wasn’t expecting him to buy anything for anyone, including me—so I am both shocked and gratified when he produces VIP tickets to a Cyclones game for everyone, earning heartfelt thanks from Mr. Plumlee, my dad, and Jax, and a half-excited, half-awkward thanks from Adam. He’s clearly right where we want him to be: in a pickle over whether to love Seb, the athlete, or hate Seb, the guy his ex leveled up with.
When we’re finished with the pile of gifts, I untangle my hand from Seb’s and lean back to stretch, like a cat. Next on today’s agenda is a Christmas brunch featuring Adam’s handmade confections, which, if history is anything to go by, he will drone on and on about for the entirety of the meal.
“Wait,” Dot says as we’re standing to head to the dining room. “There’s one more.”
At the base of the tree lies a long, thin envelope tied with a gold ribbon. Dot squints at it, then says, “It’s for Madelyn.”
I frown around the circle. Jax and I don’t exchange gifts, and I already have my pile of trusty books for the trash later. Or a nice festive bonfire.
My gaze lands on Adam, who’s looking back at me keenly. A cold shiver runs through me. Oh no, is this something else designed to embarrass me? A consolation gift for being the ex-at-Christmas?