A Princess for Christmas - Jenny Holiday Page 0,12

Dani high-fived. The two of them were romantics, though Dani, whose horrific divorce-in-progress had inspired her to swear off love, would never admit it.

“Leo’s going to hate that!” Gabby said gleefully.

Whatever had made Leo add that weird, extra thank-you to Dani squeezed on his chest again, making it hard to take a full, deep breath. He lived for Thursday nights—for this. For unstructured time with his sister and their neighbor. Leo could make good money if he’d wanted to drive Thursday nights. And Gabby and Dani didn’t need him for their soap operas. But these nights had come to mean everything to him. On Thursday nights, they kicked back, joked, and ate ice cream. On Thursday nights, he stopped worrying—temporarily.

He even liked the shows they watched, though he pretended not to because it amused the other two. Their current was called I Am Not a Robot. It was ridiculous. But he was sucked right in to the tale of the boy who was allergic to skin contact and the girl who was pretending to be a robot, or . . . something. He needed to start paying attention to this episode, or he was going to get left behind.

“Tell me again about the princess!” Dani commanded when the episode was over, and that was all it took to set Gabby off. She gestured wildly as she retold the tale of their afternoon adventure.

Leo’s chest was still doing that squeezing thing. This was not how he had ever foreseen his life turning out. For so long after his parents died, he had been focused on what he had lost—his parents, college, his carefree youth. His existence had become about stanching the bleeding the accident had caused in their lives. About surviving and making sure Gabby not only survived, but thrived. Dani had been part of that first aid kit, initially. She still was. But now she was a true friend, too. A best friend, though they didn’t talk about their relationship in those terms. They didn’t talk about their relationship at all, which Leo frankly appreciated.

The point was, as hard as the past two years had been, he and Gabby were lucky. They had each other. They had Dani.

They had their ridiculous Korean soap operas and objectionably elaborate ice cream.

He remained uncharacteristically sentimental as the evening wound down. It wasn’t until after he’d tucked Gabby in that Leo remembered they’d forgotten to stop for her . . . supplies.

Dammit. Just when he was feeling like he had things moderately under control.

“Kiddo,” he whispered. He’d been sitting on a chair next to her bed. On nights he wasn’t driving, she liked him to sit with her while she fell asleep. Though she was probably too old for that, he indulged her. She’d had nightmares after the accident, and this was such an easy thing to give her. It didn’t cost anything. And it was good for him to sit there after she fell asleep and listen to her steady, strong breathing, surrounded by her girlish clutter. It reminded him what was important.

She wasn’t quite asleep yet tonight, which was the only reason he’d spoken to her.

“Hmm?” She sighed. She was so sleepy.

“We forgot to stop for maxi pads.” He congratulated himself on getting the words out without his voice doing something weird.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I wadded up some Kleenexes. I’ll be okay until the morning.”

Jesus Christ on a cracker. She wadded up some Kleenexes? Why hadn’t she reminded him?

Probably because despite her casual delivery of the news, it had taken a lot for her to tell him in the first place. And then, with the ball in his court, he’d done nothing.

He debated getting up and asking Dani to come over while he ran to a bodega. Or maybe Dani herself had some supplies she could donate to the cause. But Gabby was almost asleep. So he stroked her hair and said, “Okay,” even as he beat himself up for forgetting something so important. He would get up before she did tomorrow and get some from Dani or from the store.

Hours later, Leo was nodding off over one of his mom’s old mystery novels—like her, he preferred his fiction with a side of murder rather than the romance Gabby favored—when his phone buzzed.

Well, eff him. It was Her Majesty, the cake topper. Hello. This is Marie. You collected me earlier and drove me to the marina?

As if he could forget. As if he picked up princesses every day and delivered them