Twelve

Genesis

December 10

While I finished putting the lights around the tree, Kye had gone up to the attic to find the ornaments his mom had told me were up there. I wanted to have everything decorated before Bowie got here tomorrow night. He was only going to be able to stay for two days, but it was something. We needed to make some decisions on the wedding. Like where, what colors, how many people, flowers, cake—since he was vegan, that was going to be more difficult. He’d promised he could stay the entire week from Christmas to New Year. I was hoping we’d get a lot done during that time.

“Found them! You and I made most of these. I forgot about them. Mom hasn’t used them since she moved,” Kye said as he put the boxes down on the coffee table.

I walked over and picked up one of the colorful balls that had a small handprint in white paint on it, where the fingers had been made into snowmen. Chloe had always done a craft day before decorating the tree when we were younger. The year we had turned thirteen, Kye had put his foot down and refused to do it anymore. I smiled when I saw my name written with a Sharpie on the back of the red ball.

“I love these. We had such little hands once,” I said.

“What do you mean, had? Baby Doll, you still have little hands,” Kye teased.

I rolled my eyes and put the ball back in the box while I continued to study the ornaments we’d made as kids. “If your mom isn’t going to use them, I wonder if she’d let me have them?” I asked.

Kye shrugged. “I don’t see why not. What are you gonna do, hang these on your Christmas tree every year?”

I nodded. “Yes, I am.”

A smirk curled his lips. “I’m sure Bowie will fucking love that.”

I glared up at him. “He won’t mind.” At least, I didn’t think so. “Bowie probably has a few in here too. Didn’t he do ornaments with us one year?”

Kye plopped down on the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table, crossing his ankles. “I don’t remember. I fucking hope not.”

“Kye!” I scolded him. “When are you going to ease up on Bowie?”

Thanksgiving was the last time I’d tried to get the two of them together. Not only had Kye told Bowie what my favorite flower was and how I felt about roses, but he had also corrected him on my favorite Christmas song and the way I liked my coffee, and the worst was when he’d brought up the fact that I loved vintage-style jewelry. He had gone on to be specific and said that I preferred yellow diamonds, unlike the princess cut white diamond that Bowie had chosen for my engagement ring. That the only rings I liked with white diamonds were if the diamonds were around an oval-cut sapphire. I’d been torn between being angry with him and impressed that he remembered something like that. I couldn’t even remember when I had said anything about engagement rings to him. We never talked about marriage.

“I’ll ease up on him when you give him that ring back. Besides, that ring isn’t you.”

I looked down at the engagement ring on my finger. “It’s a beautiful ring,” I told him.

Kye let out a short laugh. “It’s typical. Just like the fucking roses. He doesn’t take the time to make things special. If he’s gonna buy you flowers, then he should have found out what your favorite one was. And if a man is dumb enough to get engaged, then he should fucking make sure he knows the type of ring his woman wants. You don’t just go buy the first thing you see.”

I put my hand on my hip and stared at him. “How did you know about what kind of ring I wanted anyway? When did we ever discuss that?”

He flicked his tongue ring against his top teeth and grinned at me. “We didn’t. I just pay attention.”

I raised my eyebrows. “No, you don’t. You can’t even remember the girl’s name you were with last night!”

He’d already called her two different names, telling me about how Mattia had gotten oddly possessive over her. He often shared women with his friends, along with other kinky things.

“I didn’t say I paid attention to everyone. Just you.”

I wished that when he said things like that, I didn’t feel warm and tingly inside. I had hoped being engaged to Bowie would kill that. It hadn’t. Nothing ever would, I was afraid.

“All right then, when did I mention an engagement ring?” I asked him because he had been so accurate on Thanksgiving that I was speechless. Then, I had recovered and run interference with Bowie’s feelings again.

“I saw you zooming in with your phone on some actress’s hand once. You were looking at her engagement ring. I asked what you were doing, and you looked up from the screen to see me staring down at it. You laughed and said I was being nosy, then said, ‘What if I was looking at something private?’ I asked if someone was sending you dick pics, and you shoved me with your elbow, then laughed before going back to study the ring. I swear you kept looking at it for about ten minutes. When you finally stopped, you sighed as you set your phone down and said if you ever got engaged, you hoped you got an antique ring. I asked you what the difference was, and you said that they were more romantic and that a yellow diamond stood out in a way a white one didn’t.”

He remembered every detail of that conversation. I tried not to look as impressed as I was because he might think I was reading into it.

“Okay, but you mentioned two different kinds of vintage rings on Thanksgiving. The ring you’re talking about wasn’t the sapphire Edwardian setting with a cluster of diamonds around it.”

Kye dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. He took two steps until he was standing in front of me. “You made me watch William and Kate’s wedding even though we aren’t fucking British. I was nine, and it was torture, but I watched it with you because you were sick. Anyway, Kate’s engagement ring. You went on and on about it being Princess Diana’s and how beautiful it was.”

I let out a shocked laugh and stared up at him. I didn’t have any words. How in the world did he remember that? I barely remembered that.

He put his finger under my chin and tilted it back some, locking his eyes on mine. “And Bowie was there, too, but his ass didn’t remember. I did.” When he dropped his hand, he gave me his trademark smile. “Let’s decorate this tree.”

I stood there as he picked up an ornament and watched as he put it on the tree.

“I think …” I said, then paused, wanting to make sure I said this correctly. “That it’s unfair to measure Bowie against you. He’s not going to measure up in the friend department of our relationship. Most men don’t; that’s why women have best friends who know them better than anyone else.”

Kye picked up another ornament. “If a man is gonna shackle himself to one woman, then he’d better know everything about her. He should fucking worship her. Because only getting to fuck one cunt for the rest of your life is a real big commitment. No pussy is that good. So, he’d better know her inside and out because once he gets tired of fucking her, he needs to love the rest of her.”

And that was the reminder I’d needed. Thank you, Kye, for the hard shake of reality.

The warm, tingly feeling I had gotten earlier was now gone. No woman would ever be enough to make Kye settle down. He loved women. A pretty face could turn his head so fast, and after a few times of sleeping with her, he would move on and forget her name, if he’d ever known it to begin with.

I took an ornament and hung it on the tree. “You know, not all men are like you. They don’t think like you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, they fucking do. They just won’t admit it. No secrets with me, Baby Doll. You’ve always said I have no filter. But that also means I never leave you guessing. I say exactly what I think.”

That was true. Yet he still broke hearts left and right. Girls had always thought that they’d be the one to change him. They got their hopes up, and then he left them crying in the dust once he got bored or they got too clingy. The man should come with a warning label.

My phone rang, and I looked down to see Quinn’s name lighting it up. I picked it up.

“Hey, you,” I said in greeting.

“UGH! I miss you. My new roommate doesn’t even like Christmas.”

“I miss you too. She her how to enjoy it. Make your famous apple cider and play Christmas music while shoving icebox fruitcake down her throat.”

Icebox fruitcake was something Quinn’s grandmother had made that she loved and forced everyone to try.

“I don’t shove it down people’s throats. I just suggest they try it.”

I laughed. “Well, next Christmas, you need to plan to come here. Stay with Bowie and me. He will eat your fruitcake.”

“Do not remind me that you are marrying him,” she grumbled.

I laughed. “You sound like Kye. I am just getting married. Not moving to Switzerland.”

“That might be the only thing Kye and I agree on.”

I grinned and looked over at him. “I guess I should be glad my best friend and my backup are seeing eye to eye for once.”

“I take back all the things I’ve said about Quinn in the past,” Kye said loud enough for her to hear him.

“He’s there! Of course he is.” She sounded annoyed. “He’s getting in all the Genesis time he can before you’re hitched. It’s not fair. I am missing it all.”

“I will be there in a few weeks to visit. You can help me with my wedding planning.”

Kye scowled as he hung another ornament on the tree.

“Just make sure I look hot as your maid of honor. No tacky-ass dress.”

I laughed. “You can pick out your own dress. How’s that?”

She squealed. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, what are you doing with the number one best friend tonight?”

“Decorating my Christmas tree.”

“Our Christmas tree,” Kye corrected me.

“Okay, fine, our Christmas tree.”

“Oh, that’s not cozy at all. You sure you’re marrying the right childhood best friend?”

I cut my eyes to Kye to make sure he hadn’t heard her. When he didn’t look at me, I relaxed. “Positive. But I need to go. I’ve got to go check on the cookies in the oven.”

“Cookies? You can’t bake! You’ll burn the house down.”

“Kye’s here to make sure that doesn’t happen and to put out any fires,” I assured her. “And it’s the cookie dough you buy at the store. It’s not like I whipped some up from scratch.”

“I’m not wanting to die from Christmas cookies,” Kye added.

I punched his arm. “I’m not that bad!”

“Yeah, Baby Doll. You fucking suck at cooking or baking unless supervised.”

“Go on and get the cookies out of the oven, Baby Doll,” Quinn drawled teasingly. “But call me tomorrow. I’m missing you!”

“I will,” I assured her, and then we said our goodbyes and hung up.

Kye was headed to the kitchen. “I’ll get the cookies out,” he told me.

“I need to add the peanut butter cups to the middle while they’re still hot and soft,” I called after him.

“Then, get your cute ass in here and do it!”

Smiling, I put down the Santa ornament in my hand and followed after him.