A Very Grey Christmas (2 page)

“Hi, Mom, Dad.” I squeezed them tightly.

“How was your flight?” My father looked me up and down. It had been a few months, but I noticed the touches of gray around his ears and in his bangs. My father had always had almost jet-black hair.

“Good.” How was I supposed to say the entire time I wanted to beg the pilot to turn the plane around and take me back to Texas?

“Honey, we are so glad you’re home.” My mother gave me an extra squeeze. “Where’s your coat? You need a coat. It’s going to snow tomorrow.”

It looked as if she had just come from the yoga studio. I could see her tight black pants peeking out from under her long wool coat. Her blond hair hung loosely around her shoulders as if she shook it out from a bun on her way into the airport.

“I packed it. It’s not exactly cold on the island, and I didn’t want to worry about keeping up with it on the plane.”

“I’ll get your luggage.” My father walked over to the rotating luggage, wedging himself between passengers.

“Are you ok?” Mom slung an arm around my shoulder.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I leaned into her, needing a little motherly support.

“I know you’re disappointed Grey’s not with you.”

I shrugged. “We are spending the second half of the holidays together. Besides that, he can’t just up and leave the Palm. We’re getting ready to do an extensive renovation.”

We walked under a sparkling set of candy canes hanging from one of the airport pillars. “Everyone needs time off from work. I’m just sorry we aren’t going to get to meet him. You do live together. I hoped we would have met him by now.”

“I know, Mom. Soon. You’ll get to meet him soon. We’ll plan something.” I said it, but didn’t believe it. With the upcoming condo conversion, I had no idea when either of us would have another break again. Mason had started the reconstruction plans as soon as the ink was dry on the contract. That guy didn’t mess around.

My father appeared triumphantly with my suitcase in hand. “Here it is, pumpkin. You girls ready?”

We both nodded and followed him out of the airport.

I hadn’t been home since I drove out of my parents’ driveway in September. I smiled when I saw the candles in the windows and the light-up Santa Claus my father always attached to the front porch. When I was a little girl, I thought that Santa was the most beautiful Christmas decoration on the street. All the neighbors’ houses were decorated with white and colored lights. I sighed. This felt like Christmas.

“Come on, come on. I have to show you the tree. I’m dying for you to see what I did with it this year.” My mother slid out of the passenger side and jogged up the steps.

My father gave me a knowing look. “You better go. I’ll get your bags.”

I walked in the house. All the things I had missed about home hit me as I walked through the door. It was as if all the Christmases in my memory were bundled together and unwrapped in this one instant. Everything was festive and perfect, just like Christmas was supposed to be.

“In here, Eden. Come see,” Mom called from the living room.

“Ok, ok. What’s different with the tree this year?” I stopped in the doorway. “Wow, Mom. It’s amazing.” I stepped closer to examine her latest work of art.

The twinkle lights sparkled all over the tree. All of our family ornaments were on display, but there were new ones. It sparkled from the inside out. There had to be at least fifty glitter snowflakes. Some made from mirror, others coated in a white shimmer.

“I can’t believe you added all of this. Where did you get the idea?” I circled to the other side, not wanting to miss a single decoration.

“Oh, it just hit me one morning when I was doing child’s pose. It threw off the rest of my class, because I wanted to get out of the studio and start on the ornaments.” She laughed. “I used crushed glass on most of the snowflakes. I’m hoping we’ll have a white Christmas this year. The tree should get us started.”

My mother had always been crafty, but this looked like the work of a professional.

“I think it’s the prettiest tree we’ve had.” I reached for my phone in my back pocket.

“What are you doing?”

I stepped back and snapped a photo. “Taking a picture to send to Grey. He has to see this.” I forwarded the picture along with a message.

Wish you were here to see this in person.

Seconds later, he wrote back.

Me too, baby.

Why don’t you change your mind? Promise you’ll love it.

I bet I would.

I sighed. There was no changing his mind once it was made up. That determination could be an amazing characteristic, but right now, it made me sad that we were in different states.

“How about we get you settled in your room, and I’ll have dinner ready in a few minutes? I bet you’re tired from the trip.”

“A little.” I shuffled down the hall in search of my old bedroom.

Other than summer and holiday breaks, I hadn’t spent much time here since I graduated from high school. Pictures from school were on the walls—all the things that I didn’t pack for the Texas move. My mother had even unpacked my childhood tree and placed it on the dresser. It made me think about the tree Grey probably had with Pops. It was good to be home, but my heart hurt more now than when I got on the plane in Brownsville.

It was only a week. I could do this for a week, right? I watched the lights on my tree change from blue to red to green. Who was I kidding? I was going to be completely miserable as long as Grey and I were apart.

“Dinner was delicious, Mom. I’ll have to get that recipe from you. Maybe make that casserole for Grey.”

“Ok. I’ll copy it for you.”

I watched as she scurried around the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. My father placed a glass of wine in front of me.

“Here you go. I’m going to catch the end of the game. Glad you’re here, pumpkin.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

I took a sip and settled into the chair. There was only one week until Christmas, and my parents usually packed every night leading up to the holiday with some kind of craft, trip, or activity.

“So, what are the plans this week?” I asked my mother.

She slid the casserole dish with leftovers onto the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. “Oh, I thought we could carol with the neighbors tomorrow night. Then Sunday night is the pageant at church. Monday we need to get the ornaments to the hospital.” She paused and pulled a calendar off the wall. “Ok, then that means Tuesday we do cookies so we can deliver them on Wednesday. Thursday is wrapping, and then Friday is Christmas Eve and we’ll get the luminaries ready.”

“Wow, did you leave us anytime to sleep?” I joked as I sipped on the wine.

“You know how Christmas is here. Busy, busy. I’ve got three classes this week at the studio, but they are in the morning. You should come with me.”

I hadn’t done yoga in at least a month. I missed it. “I think I will, but don’t criticize my tree pose.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She smiled as she returned the calendar to the wall. “Let’s go see what your father’s team is doing. Playoff season around the holidays always confused me. It’s not really fitting with the holiday spirit, all that extra competition.”

I giggled and carried my wine into the next room. Some things never change.

I
woke up Saturday morning stretched across my bed, noticing the empty space next to me. The sheets were cool. No note from Grey on the pillow. I frowned then peeled myself from under the covers and decided it was too cold to get out of bed just yet. I pulled my phone off the bedside stand, and sent Grey a text.

Good morning. Miss you.

I probably miss you more. It was lonely last night.

I sighed. What was it going to take to get him to come up here? Mason and his damned condo project could wait another week. I knew Mason wasn’t buried in work. He planned on seeing Taylor over the holidays. She was in the midst of serious holiday scheming where he was concerned. I had never seen my best friend so head over heels in love in all the years I had known her.

I typed to Grey.

There’s only one thing I want for Christmas.

What’s that, pretty girl?

You.

I waited. We were within the one-week Christmas window and buying a ticket now would cost a fortune, but for the first time, Grey could afford a small fortune on travel. Mason had bought in for his half of the condo deal. Grey was officially wealthy.

It seemed like an hour passed before he finally answered.

I’ll call you later.

Ugh!
I threw the covers off my legs. I wondered if I promised to wrap myself in nothing but a red bow if that would entice him to make the trip. There had to be a way to get him here. I trudged to the bathroom to brush my teeth and start the shower.

I hated that Christmas maybe carried sad memories for him. But that was my job now—to help Grey create new memories. Happy memories.

I stepped into the steamy shower and lathered my hair. What if I cut my trip short? I could go back to Texas on Christmas night instead of the day after. At least that way we’d have the night together. I didn’t care if we went to Connor’s bonfire or stayed home on the couch watching
It’s a Wonderful Life
. We would at least be together. I rinsed the shampoo and conditioner from my hair and reached for a towel. Yes, that’s what I had to do. I’d tell my mom over coffee. She would understand that Grey was back home waiting for me. He was my home now and I had to do this.

I walked into the kitchen, my wet hair wrapped in a towel.

“Good morning, pumpkin.” My father sat at the table with the newspaper spread between his arms.

“Good morning, Dad.” I padded over to the coffee pot. “Where’s Mom?”

“Oh, she ran to the store for a minute. She said she was low on flour and sugar, and she is going to bake something today. She’s worried with the snow rolling in she won’t get back out.”

I laughed. “I thought cookie day wasn’t until Tuesday.” Of course, everyday leading up to Christmas was full of holiday goodies, but the schedule my mother put us on was comical at times.

“Funny, funny. You know how she is. She wants you to have all your favorites.”

“That’s sweet of her, but she doesn’t have to go to extra trouble. I’m fine with what’s already here.” I had seen the pantry—it was fully stocked with every sprinkle, type of sugar, and flour known to a baker. I couldn’t possibly imagine what else she needed to buy.

My dad turned in his chair to face me. “Eden, it’s not trouble. We both realize we don’t know how many Christmases we’ll have with you at home. She wants everything to be perfect for this one.”

I stopped in mid-stir. The sugar probably sank to the bottom of my mug. “It’s not my last Christmas, Dad.”