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“My opa was from Germany. I’m a quarter German.”
Spencer sits next to me. “I didn’t realize. I also didn’t know Owen knew how to cook.”
I chuckle, then sigh. “He doesn’t, or at least I don’t know if he does. He got the food from a local German family.”
“Is this what you want from me? German dinners and a tour of a tree farm?” He takes my hand. “If so, you’ll have to tell me because I’d rather not guess, then have you disappointed when I fail.”
I give his hand a squeeze. “No, I do not expect any surprises from you.” As much as I enjoy them, they aren’t in Spencer’s wheelhouse. There are other traits he excels in. “What I want from you is your time, your trust, and yourhonesty. I will give the same to you. Which is why I’m telling you about tonight.”
Spencer taps his fingers against his leg. “I’m going to guess Owen tried to talk you out of marrying me. I know he wants you for himself.”
“Essentially, yes,” I say.
“Did he convince you?”
Unbidden, a wish that Spencer would break off our agreement flairs up. It’s so strong it takes me by surprise and steals my sanity. I need Spencer. I don’t want him to break up with me. What will I do for Nana? How will I un-bury myself from this debt? I can’t do it on my own.
“No, he did not convince me.”
“Good.” Spencer kisses my temple. “I’m not the kind of person who changes his mind once it’s made, and I’m glad you aren’t either.”
Instead of his loyalty bringing me peace, my chest tightens, much like it does every time I visit Nana. I don’t allow myself to think about why.
“Are you ready for the proposal tomorrow?” he asks. “I’ll do it in front of the family after we exchange gifts, if that sounds agreeable to you.”
Oh gosh, the proposal tomorrow on Christmas. The tightness in my chest increases. “That will work. Good night, Spencer.”
I’m off the bed and out of the room in seconds. I breathe a little easier in the hallway. At least for a few seconds, until I notice on the floor outside my bedroom the flower bouquet, the remaining stollen wrapped in plastic wrap, and the other gifts from Owen, including the one I didn’t open.
Gifts in the hallway remind me of another GermanChristmas tradition from growing up: St. Nicholas Day. Every December fifth I left a shoe outside my door and in the morning, it was filled with gifts and candy. One year, I stole Opa’s winter boot because it was bigger than my tennis shoe. Nicholas, aka Opa, did not disappoint and filled the boot all the way to the top. I got a lot of fruit snacks and Hostess cupcakes from the pantry, but I loved it.
If seen, these gifts will add fuel to the gossip about me and Owen, something I want to avoid. I grab them, enter my room, and dump them on my dresser.
An ache for my Nana and Opa forms so deep and wide I collapse on my bed. If they were both alive and healthy, I could talk to them about this, and they would listen and help me figure out what to do. Except if they were here, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I feel so alone. Fear of the future, not just for my marriage but for Nana, nips at my thoughts.
I’m glad I have two more scarves to knit. The distraction will keep me sane. As I cast on, my eyes drift to the wrapped gift on my dresser. It taunts me.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll open you.”
I get off my bed and grab it. Whatever it is jingles as I tear the paper. A bracelet falls to the floor. It’s not until I pick it up that I see it’s a charm bracelet with five charms. A candy cane, a lighthouse, a Christmas tree, a cup of hot cocoa, and a pickle. The last one has me laughing out loud even as tears stream down my cheeks. Who sells pickle charms? This year it’s Owen who gets the good luck because hunting down a pickle charm is impressive detective work.
I love the bracelet. The problem is, I can never wear it because every charm reminds me of him.
How dare Owen be the kind, attentive, gorgeous, thoughtful man that I always dreamed would come into my life. He does something no boyfriend has ever done: he puts me first.
“Curse you, Owen.”
Banishing every thought and desire that works against my resolve, I go back to my bed and grab my knitting. My alarm will sound in a few short hours, and I still have two scarves to make.
Chapter Eighteen
LAYLA
Christmas morning beginsin the breakfast room with everyone dressed in their finest outfits. In this family, that means designer.
The men wear suit jackets and ties, but for Owen who wears slacks and a polo. Brady looks handsome in a red sweater, with his hair combed back in a man bun. Tori wasn’t wrong; give it a few years, and all the girls will be after him.
We women have dolled ourselves up as if we’re headed out to a night at the Oscars. Ginger, who I’ve only seen occasionally at meals, drips with diamonds. Rheta is in a burgundy silk cinched at her waist. Ellory’s midnight blue dress has a tulle skirt and embroidered bust. I’m so used to seeing her in business suits, it’s a shock to see her in anything else.
