The Naughty List by Sara Cate

Author:Sara Cate
Language: eng
Format: epub

Grant

When we get back to the house, everyone settles around the fireplace with Christmas music playing. Mel’s sons’ wives go to the kitchen to start preparing dinner, and I hover somewhere in between, not exactly sure where I want to be.

To be honest, I don’t hate Christmas so much this year. The music and the laughter has been nice, nicer than normal. I know it’s because of her, this little red beacon of happiness that suddenly fell into my life. After only one day, she has me wanting to change my plans for the spring. And the idea that I could go to her college town is ridiculous. The last thing I need to be doing is distracting her while she’s in school, but it just slipped out. I should really tell her that I spoke too soon, but I can tell her heart isn’t into the idea of going back at all. I know that’s not the future she wants, and I just wish she’d be honest with her mom.

But it’s not my place. Who am I to come in and try to dictate her life? It’s not fair of me to do that.

I know that I should really keep my distance from Audrey, that it would be best for her, but when I see her disappear down the hallway into her room, I can’t help myself. Acting as if I’m going to the restroom, I follow her until I’m standing in her room.

She turns around, and her eyes widen. “What are you doing?” she mouths, looking behind me.

Standing there, I look around at the walls and decorations in her space. It has the feel of an artsy loft, with sketches and painting pinned to a large board over her desk. There’s an easel in the corner with a messy stack of art books next to a reading chair.

“Can I see some of your artwork?” I ask.

With a slight roll of her eyes, she pulls a sketchbook from her desk and hands it to me. Flipping through the pages, I can’t seem to find one drawing that’s not perfect, that doesn’t make me fall in love with her a little.

“These are phenomenal, Audrey.”

“No, they’re not,” she says, letting her shoulders hang.

Acting on instinct, I reach out and clutch her chin between my fingers. Lifting her head to look at me, I correct her. “Yes, they are. Say it.”

She’s frozen, staring up at me with her lips parted. “They…they’re good.”

“Phenomenal,” I say.

Her gaze falls to my lips before she says breathlessly, “They’re phenomenal.”

“You’re phenomenal.”

“I’m phenomenal.” Her round eyes fill with moisture as I lean down to press my lips to her forehead.

“Good girl.”

She takes the sketchbook from my hands and drops it on the desk. Then she crosses the room and quietly shuts the door. My head titling, I stare at her with concern, but she only answers with her finger up to her lips in a shushing signal.

“Computer, play Christmas music,” she says to the little white speaker on her dresser, keeping her eyes on me.

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