I nodded my head.
“I’m ready,” I told him.
And I was ready, boy was I ready. I’d spent hours in Plack’s, Hayes and on the internet, shopping. More in the guest bedroom wrapping. More creating menus and searching for recipes.
I was definitely ready for Christmas and I couldn’t wait.
Gray read this in my eyes. I knew when he grinned, giving me the dimple.
Then he dropped another light kiss on my lips.
Then he let me go and I watched his ass as he sauntered out of the kitchen, muttering, “Later, dollface.”
“Later, honey,” I called to his back then turned to the sink to finish the breakfast dishes.
I did this smiling to myself mostly because my eyes were on my hands and I could see my ring there.
Gray would have a time of it, besting his birthday present.
But he was making the effort. I knew this because he was getting Grandma Miriam from the home and she was going to be with us until the day after Christmas. And we could do this because, early that evening, his Mom was coming. She was a nurse, she was spending the next two nights in our guest room and she, with the help of Gray and me, could give Grandma Miriam what she needed. Then, tomorrow, after we had a small family Christmas in the morning, in the afternoon, all Gray’s uncles, their wives and Audie and his girl were coming over for Christmas dinner.
I couldn’t wait.
For any of it.
More than six months of peace from the machinations of Buddy Sharp and more than six months of going to bed and waking up with Grayson Cody, the last two and half with the Cody family heirloom ring on my finger.
Life was good and with Gran there, Norrie, who Gray was getting to know slowly and cautiously but he was doing it, then his uncles, aunts and cousin, I’d have a real family Christmas.
The first one ever.
Ever.
Thirty years and there it was.
Yeah, Gray was close to besting his birthday present.
Nothing would be better than the symbol that stated plainly I was soon going to take the name Cody.
But a family Christmas wasn’t far off.
* * * * *
Nine thirty-eight in the morning, Christmas Eve…
I had Christmas music playing, a bay and rosemary candle burning and I was making Christmas cookies. It was my fifth batch of the season. This was because, with Christmas cookies in the house, Gray had foregone his candy bars and nabbed a cookie (or four) whenever he had the munchies. This was also because, now that there was peace amongst the Cody men, anytime his uncles were fighting with their wives, they were over at our house.
Which meant they were over a lot.
And they grew up in that house so they had no problem helping themselves.
I didn’t mind.
Not at all.
I was standing at the kitchen counter, kneading the dough, Christmas all around but my mind was on flowers.
Not flowers for my wedding, planting them around the house.
During a visit with Grandma Miriam she told me, before she lost her legs, every year she planted a thick border of impatiens around the front and side of the house.
“Perfect for them, child, with the trees that shade the house, they get their bit of sun but they like their shade,” she’d told me.
I had the ring she wore on my finger. I was making Christmas dinner in the kitchen where she’d prepared it for five decades.
So, come spring, the house would have Grandma Miriam’s flowers.
I heard the approach of a car and my head turned to the window, surprised because I figured it was Gray. I had no idea what he had to do in town but going to get Grandma Miriam and dealing with packing her up and checking her out alone would take an hour and he’d been gone just over that.
But it wasn’t Gray’s pickup bumping down the lane. It was a silver car, an Audi, new and clean like it had a garage for its home.
I found this interesting. Audis weren’t popular cars in Mustang.
I took my hands out of the dough rubbing off the lumps. I rinsed them quickly, dried them, headed out of the kitchen, down the hall and out the front door.
Then I stopped dead on the porch as I watched Bud Sharp get out of his Audi and out the passenger side was a man who Buddy would definitely not hang with. Not ever.
He was older, tall, beefy, with long-ish, wild hair that held its blonde but had more silver and to say he was rough around the edges was an understatement.
I didn’t hesitate to call to them, “Best get in your car, Buddy. I’ll be saying these words to you then calling nine-one-one then calling Gray. If it was me, I wouldn’t be here when Gray gets back.”
Then I turned to the front door, walked three steps and stopped dead with my hand on the doorknob after Buddy called back, “Now, Ivey, is that any way to act the very first time you lay eyes on your Daddy?”
It was stupid, I knew it. I should go in, call nine-one-one, call Gray but instead my head turned and my eyes went to the man walking toward the porch with Buddy.