“You should really consider asking Kenzie.”

“I would have if I had known you have ADHD. What’s with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s because you can’t draw, huh?” My attention drops to Allie as she places another pin along the hemline.

“That’s definitely not helping.”

“When do you think you’ll be able to hold a pencil again? Are your professors freaking out?”

“I don’t know. I’m hoping by the end of this week so I can draw while I’m home for Christmas.”

“Are you excited?”

Her gaze remains fixed on the dress as I raise my eyebrows, her question sinking into my thoughts. “I guess. I don’t know.”

“You don’t talk about your family much.” Allie’s eyes dart to mine for just a fraction of a second, but I’m sure it’s long enough to notice mine working to evade contact.

“There’s not a whole lot to say.”

“What happened to your mom this week?” I feel her briefly glance up again before moving her hands to a new spot where she begins measuring the fabric for the next pin.

“Something came up. I’m sure I’ll see her after the holidays. You know how this time of year is.”

She places a white chalk pencil between her teeth and nods slowly as if debating that it’s the correct response. She frees it again, intently focusing on the fabric, and places a careful mark. “You aren’t mad?”

I shrug, earning a glare from her that I return with a frown. Her lips fall open into a laugh. “You just need to focus on someone and mentally draw them; otherwise, you’re never going to make it out of here tonight, at least not without a thousand pinholes.”

My neck twists as I look around the room again. There are so many people in here. So much beauty, anticipation, desire, and passion: things I seek for my own inspiration, yet when I close my eyes and start sketching lines across my imagination, they don’t make up anyone that’s in here. I think I’d be surprised at this point if they ever do again. There are times like yesterday when I genuinely wish I hated him. Hell, he’s been a jackass to me enough that I could justifiably say I do, and anyone would be able to understand where I’m coming from. Then again, that would also require having someone to discuss my feelings for and interactions with King.

I wish I hadn’t been exposed to the kinder sides of him.

I wish I didn’t see how he acts around Mercedes to witness his unconditional love for her.

I wish my memories of that night were fading rather than becoming clearer.

I wish I wasn’t falling for this asshole.

I wish he’d fall for me.

“LO!” MERCEDES’ smile is stretched wider than I think I’ve ever seen it, and knowing this reaction is because she’s happy to see me makes that maternal instinct inside of me burn like a flame. That light is such a welcoming feeling; to be missed and cared for is something I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced to this extent, and while it’s coming from a ten-year-old girl I nanny for, rather than a friend or boyfriend or even a family member, it makes me feel a slew of emotions that has my lips lifting into a smile and my eyes filling with tears that I wipe away as she hugs me.

“How was your Christmas?”

She pulls back from me, her eyes still bright. “It was so fun! We had four of them!”

Mercedes notices my gape and laughs. Braiding her arm with mine, she leads us into the living room where the tree is still standing. I was slightly concerned when I left ten days ago that they wouldn’t remember to get one, or would bypass the tradition. Two bachelors living in a house, I could definitely see that happening, especially when I had witnessed their living conditions BM: Before Me. If mounds of dirty laundry and unrecognizable objects weren’t of concern, I figured a tree wouldn’t either. I didn’t know how to broach the subject without sounding like I was meddling, so I attempted my discreet intervention by using Summer as my liaison. Since our conversation took place via text, I couldn’t see or hear her reaction, but she sent me a smiley face after assuring me one would be up and thanking me for pulling out the boxes of ornaments I had stored in the laundry room after realizing I was the only one who knew where they were. Sure, I told both King and Kash where I had moved everything, but neither one seemed overly interested, more just shocked at the transformation of their house.

The tree is tall and has wide gaps between branches, some spaced over a foot apart. The lights are multi-colored, and the ornaments, which don’t match, primarily consist of homemade ornaments that I can tell were done at the hands of Mercedes over the years.

She wraps her small hand around mine, turning my attention from one of the first sights I’ve wanted to draw that isn’t a person. “We did one here with Summer, and another one with my grandma, and one with my grandpa, and then one with Dad’s work.”

“That’s like Groundhog Day.”

“Like what?” She faces me with sincere curiosity.

“I just mean that’s a lot of Christmas!”

“It was. But it was amazing! And now you get to open your gifts because you weren’t here!”

“My gifts?”

Mercedes raises her eyebrows with a silent duh! and she heads to the tree, retrieving a single wrapped package from below the boughs. She sets the box on my lap, where I carefully inspect it with appreciation. The wrapping is covered with snowmen and is perfectly folded and taped—clearly Summer assisted. Mercedes slides it closer, her patience once again waning.

Inside is a pillow of tissue paper that Mercedes eagerly helps me remove. Below are several different pens, rubber erasers, charcoals, acrylic paints, oils, and brushes. They’re an expensive artist’s quality, too, not the cheaper student grade. I’m still eyeing the brushes when Mercedes pulls a smaller box free from the bottom and pushes it closer to me.

“There’s more?”

“We each got you something.”

My chin drops and I silently wait for her eyes to meet mine before asking her what that means.

“This is from King.”

King?

I haven’t seen him since snapping at him after he crossed too far over the asshole-line again that day in the bathroom. Curiosity is heating my entire body. It’s going to be a joke, a gag, something utterly useless.

“Open it!” Mercedes growls then reaches forward without waiting and lifts the lid. Inside is a golden bangle. A delicate feather creates half of the bracelet, tiny marks and details reminding me of the one I held.

“I told him you were going to love it.”

I am completely speechless because I do. It’s beautiful and elegant while being chic and modern. Not only that, but while this could be an inside joke, I feel quite confident it serves as an apology.

“You love it … right?”

My fingers are still wrapped tightly around the bracelet as they fall into my lap, and I look up at Mercedes, my smile climbing impossibly wide. “I love all of it! Thank you!” Her arms fling around my neck, jostling the bracelet with her aggressive hug.

“I have something for you, too.”

Her eyes are wide, gleaming with excitement for what those words promise when she pulls back, and I’m proud of her for not squealing like I can tell she wants to. I lean forward and lift the gift bag I had brought while still securely holding the bracelet.

I agonized over what I would get her. Champagne tastes on a beer budget became Cristal Champagne on a Pabst Beer budget when it came to shopping for her and the brands I know she adores.

With an easy pull of tissue paper, Mercedes pulls out a custom helmet I ordered with Summer’s assistance, covered in a shell that is comprised of sketches I had to send in that include ones of her riding and several of the images I drew while she wore the bandages on her chin that now only shows the slightest red seam.