“Just wait and see.”
* * *
My brothers watchtheir mouths around Wren, which I appreciate. Father doesn’t seem that interested in her, but who is he ever interested in? Grant, and that’s about it. The rest of us can go to hell.
Alyssa senses an ally and makes plenty of conversation with her, which eases Wren’s nerves. I appreciate what Alyssa is doing, and tell her as much as we get ready to open presents.
Grant better marry her soon—no one tolerates his grumpy ass like she does.
Mother loves Wren. I can tell by the way she looks at her. The things she says. The gift she gave my parents—a set of tree ornaments in Tiffany blue crystal from Tiffany’s.
The gift she gives me is small. Sentimental. A five by seven framed map with a red dot on the gallery I followed her to in Tribeca.
“These are more for where a couple first met,” she says, her cheeks pink as she explains it. “But the gallery is where everything…changed for us.”
I stare at the framed map. The red dot that’s really in the shape of a heart. Too bad it’s not a pair of red lips. “I love it.”
“Do you really? You don’t think it’s cheesy?”
I lean in and press my mouth to hers. “Nothing you give me is cheesy. I love this.”
“You two—” Grant starts, but Alyssa slaps her hand over his mouth, muffling whatever else he wanted to say.
“Are very cute,” Alyssa finishes for him.
Grant rolls his eyes. Finn snorts.
I say nothing. Just smile at the girl who has my heart.
Shit. That’s still a little hard for me to wrap my head around.
Once presents are opened, everyone splits off in a different direction, and I drag Wren back to my bedroom. I’m about to shut the door when she stops me.
“We should leave it open.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Isn’t it a little…inappropriate?” She makes a face.
Ah, my innocent birdy. Still so sweet.
Leaving the door partially open, I go to her, pulling her in for a kiss. She responds immediately, pressing her lush body to mine, her arms circling my neck and her fingers diving into my hair. I break the kiss first, staring into her eyes.
“Tell me you want that door to remain open.”
“I’m not having sex with you on Christmas Day with your family here,” she whispers.
“It’s not Christmas. It’s your birthday.”
“Whatever.” She shakes her head. “Are we really dressing up for dinner?”
“Oh, get ready. My mom lives for that shit.”
“I like her. Do you think she likes me?”
I kiss her again. “Definitely. She liked your gift.”
“I’m glad. I really struggled with it.” Her gaze goes to her brand-new Chanel bag sitting on the foot of my bed. “I love my gifts from you.”