Page 133 of Theirs for the Holidays

“Funny how that’s been happening more and more lately, huh?” Sawyer says.

“It’s about Violet,” Lennox replies. “She was the first thing we managed to agree about in years. It’s part of the reason why she’s so special.”

“We owe her a lot,” Sawyer murmurs. “And even if we didn’t, I wouldn’t want to see this happen to her.”

Both of my brothers fall silent, lost in their own thoughts, and I surprise myself by being the one to speak up again.

“Listen,” I say, glancing between them. “I know I let things fall apart before. Because I didn’t speak up and tell you how I was feeling. It was easier to just make assumptions and keep quiet. Or at least I thought it was. I’m grateful things managedto turn around after that, but I don’t want a repeat of what happened to us. I’m saying something this time, instead of just staying silent.”

Lennox looks at me, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline. “Violet seems determined to do this on her own,” he says.

“I know. And I respect that, but that doesn’t mean we have to sit here doing nothing.”

They’re both giving me their full attention now, and I look between them, meeting their gazes with a determined one of my own.

“Are you with me?” I ask them.

“I’m in,” Sawyer says immediately. “Whenever you have a plan, it’s always good.”

I smile at him and glance at Lennox, who nods. “I’m with you.”

“Good.”

I get up and lead the way out the door. The two of them follow me, and it’s a point to Lennox that he waits until he’s buckling himself into my jeep before he asks, “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to talk to Isabelle.”

43

VIOLET

The nightof Isabelle and Andrew’s rehearsal dinner comes way too soon. I’ve had my dress picked out for ages, approved by my sister and everything, but standing in my bedroom putting it on, I don’t feel ready.

It’s a lovely dress, flattering on me, in a deep green color, but I feel like a fraud. Shouldn’t I be happy to be going to support my sister of all people? Shouldn’t I feel something other than the pit of dread that’s been in my stomach since I woke up this morning?

I’m caught between feeling like I want to do nothing more than rip this dress off, get into my pajamas, and spend the night on the couch with a tub of ice cream and knowing that I have to go to this thing.

If I don’t show up, it’ll only look worse. I keep reminding myself of that.

From the doorway, someone wolf whistles at me, and I turn to see Sawyer leaning against the doorframe, grinning.

“I guess one good thing about this stupid dinner is it’s a good chance to see you all dressed up,” he says. “You look beautiful.”

I can’t help but smile, ducking my head to hide the blush I can feel spreading over my cheeks. “Thank you,” I murmur.I flick my eyes over him, taking in the dark suit that is clearly tailored to fit his long legs and broad shoulders. He looks like a model, who just stepped off a runway somewhere to slum it with me.

“You look really good yourself,” I tell him.

He smirks and does a little spin. “Thank you, thank you. Can’t show up with a stunner like you on my arm and not try to match your energy.”

I laugh a little, but the smile doesn’t linger on my face for very long.

I know I haven’t been totally managing to hide my sadness lately. I’ve been trying, because I don’t want the three of them to worry about me or be more upset than they probably already are, but it’s hard. The sadness is there, always present, and it cuts deeper whenever I think about the bakery too hard. Or when I try to imagine what my life is going to look like in a month.

It’s scary to feel so uncertain. To be so adrift.

Sawyer comes into the room and pulls me into his arms. He brushes my hair back from my face and puts a hand under my chin to make me look up at him.

“Don’t give up hope,” he says softly, as if he can read my mind. “You’re smart and resourceful on top of being drop dead gorgeous. You’re going to figure something out.”