Page 32

It hits me all at once, how much has changed.

A year ago, I was chasing waves in a different time zone, keeping everyone at arm’s length and convincing myself I liked it that way because surfing mattered so much to me.

Now I’m here, in a living room full of mismatched decorations, and I’m the one Daphne trusts to hold her baby when she needs five minutes to breathe.

I’m the one Rosie always reaches for when she wakes up from a nap, confused and pouty.

I’m the one who gets to be part of this.

It’s overwhelming in the best way.

Especially when I catch myself scanning the room and noticing who’s not in it.

Not because he should be, since we never met each other’s families.

But traveling together and competing alongside one another can be lonely and the bonds you build are life long and strong.

Jared never saw this part of my world, but he did see the parts I was most passionate about.

He rode waves right there with me when I was at my best and my worst. It makes me wonder what he’d think if he saw me now.

How he’d feel is he knew how much of our friendship I carry with me.

The people who shape us aren’t always the ones who stay.

But some leave an imprint that remains, whether we mean to carry it or not.

My mind shifts to Foxx, and I wonder if he would like this.

He doesn’t talk about his family much, and I make a mental note to ask at some point, but maybe it’s intentional.

My sudden need to hear his voice overwhelms me, so I pull out my phone and sneak out onto the back porch.

It’s bright out here, crisp and cold, the kind of air that makes your lungs chill.

I dial before I can talk myself out of it.

It rings once. Twice. Then his face fills the screen, and I forget for a second that it’s freezing.

“Hey,” he says quietly, that sexy, gruff voice vibrating through the speaker. “Merry Christmas.” He slips his glasses off, and I think I forget how to breathe for a second. I’m also ninety-five percent sure I have a glasses kink now thanks to him. Really, it’s stupid how much that does to me.

His hair’s messy, like he’s been lying down. There’s a pillow crease on his cheek, and something about that undoes me a little too.

I smile back at him, clinging onto composure the best way I can. “Merry Christmas to you too. How’s your morning been?”

Foxx angles the camera to show me a sleeping Eugene and Poppy on the couch next to him. “They’ve been fed, so now it’s nap time.”

He gets up and walks into what I recognize as his bedroom, given the light green walls in there.

“How’s your morning been? Has Rosie been spoiled?”

My breath plumes out in front of me. “She has no idea what’s going on. With everything around her, her favorite thing was the shiny wrapping paper.”

“Naturally.” He laughs, lying back onto his bed arm behind his head, those biceps bulging against the material of his sweater.

“Are you wearing a Christmas sweater?” I ask, thinking I catch sight of something embellished on his chest. He angles the camera down to reveal an animated Christmas tree, and laughter bursts from me.

“You like it?”

“You surprise me, Mr. Jones. I didn’t think you were a festive sweater kind of guy.”

The camera pans back to his face that’s splitting with a grin. “Maybe I wanted to change things up this year.”

“Nothing says holiday cheer like a Christmas tree with white teeth.” I chuckle.

Foxx laughs too. His hand drifts down, fingers brushing over the design. “Well, I know you said your family are big on the holiday,” he says, not quite looking back at me yet. “Thought I’d try to lean into it a little more.”

My heart lurches at that and the thought that he’s doing something that’s brought on by one thing I’ve said in passing. I clear my throat, trying to play it down. “So, does this mean you left out cookies for Santa last night?”

He pins me with a stare, but I barrel on.

“Or maybe when I come over next, there’ll be a candy cane welcome mat at your door… Oh no, please tell me you have elf pajamas that match with Eugene.”

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“No,” I wheeze, my hand shaking as I hold the phone. “Don’t go. I like this festive version of you, even if it’s temporary.”

His smile fades slightly, and I watch him swallow, eyes locked on mine before saying, “It doesn’t have to be.”

The air leaves my lungs in a way that doesn’t feel casual. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? “You keeping Christmas tree year-round then?” I ask.

He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, maybe I like the Christmas tree more than I thought I would.”

That officially makes me stop talking. A single prolonged note of silence stretches between us when we’re just staring at each other. The implication in everything we’re not actively saying weighs heavily through the phone, yet I don’t think either of us wants to run too fast and ruin it.

But then has that ever been my style?

“I wish you were here,” I say without thinking too hard on it and just telling him how I feel.

“Yeah, I kinda miss you,” he says, and even through the phone, I see the color creeping into his cheeks.

“Kinda?” I muse.

He grins full on now, glancing away for a beat. “No, not kinda. Definitely.”

“We can see each other next week. I’ll be back before school starts.”

He nods. “It’s a date.”