Before That Promise by Violet Duke

Author:Violet Duke [Duke, Violet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Violet Duke
Published: 2016-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

They were about an hour from Phoenix and making good time. And during that time, Drew had watched Skylar make over a dozen lavish Christmas bows over in the passenger seat. “At this rate, we’ll get you home well before lunch. Plenty of time for you to wrap presents,” supplied Drew helpfully as he watched her rummage around for a fresh spool to start another one. “I don’t want you to get carsick making those, especially not with your fresh head wound.”

“These are actually distracting me from the headache,” replied Skylar with a smile. “I found these special character ribbons at a craft store up in Tacoma and I know the twins are going to love them.”

He shook his head. All this Christmas stuff really did make her light up.

“Exactly how many presents did you buy your brother and sister?”

“Just a few. But these aren’t for their gifts. These are going to go on the big wreath I told them we’d decorate together. I found spools of nearly every cartoon they’re into right now. They’ll be tickled pink.” Whistling a festive carol, she began making assorted loops and swoops with the colorful ribbon, cinching and twisting until it started to form a big puffy bow. “Dad said the twins can even do glitter projects without turning into a disco ball themselves now so I’ll probably even have them glitter these up before we tie them on.” She let loose a smile so radiant, he felt like a Christmas Scrooge. Or was it the Grinch? Whichever one was the big green one that didn’t like Christmas.

“So why don’t you like Christmas?”

It was like she’d read his mind.

He sighed and tried to answer without deflating the bubble of holiday joy she was currently zooming around on. “I don’t dislike it per se. I’m more…apathetic to it. I guess I feel like it’s a whole lot to go through for one day.”

“It’s not.”

Yeah. He figured she’d see it that way.

She looked up and clarified further, “It’s not about the day at all. It’s about what that day represents, what it has the power to bring out in people. And the happiness it can create like magic.”

“Not for everyone,” he replied, without thinking.

Sadness, and a touch of sympathy, clouded her eyes. Seeing it swiftly put him on the defensive. “Before you think this is some repressed thing because of how I grew up, it’s not. I didn’t have a deranged Santa traumatize me as a kid or anything. My Christmases were fine. To me, at least. Kids at school had a different opinion, however. Mostly because they thought I was a trailer trash loser.” It was surprising to feel his jaw clench in anger over the description, after all these years.

“Funny thing is that I never really noticed the trailer. Or the trash. Not until I was in the second grade when I read the story I’d written of how I spent my Christmas to the class like the teacher had instructed us to, and one of my classmates did that dumb loser-cough when I was finished.

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