Emma’s Gift by Lily Michaels
Emma’s Gift by Lily Michaels
(Third Place Winner)
The hiss of the picture ripping in half was cathartic. The colorful flare from the flame when she threw it in the fireplace was even better.
Emma looked to her right and huffed out a breath. There was an awful lot of therapy contained in that cardboard box. “Why in the world did we feel the need to chronicle every single moment with a picture?” She ripped another handful and tossed them into the blazing fire in front of her. “This is the twenty-first century, what possessed me to think I needed to print them?”
Several rhythmic knocks on the front door interrupted her self-imposed pity party. She took a long swig from her red wine and added five more pictures to the mini inferno before getting up to silence the intrusive and incessant pounding. Who in their right mind was coming to visit her on Christmas Eve? Especially in the middle of a snowstorm.
A crooked grin and twinkling blue eyes answered her question. Emma shook her head and sighed. “Logan. I should have known.”
He twisted his face into the most pathetic excuse for a pout ever. “I brave the most treacherous weather Mother Nature has to offer to make sure my very best friend in the whole entire world has her gift in time for Christmas and this is the thanks I get?”
Emma rolled her eyes and stepped to the side so that Logan and his enormous red wrapped present could gain entrance. “That…” She paused and ran a finger along the perfect seams after he set it near her tan leather couch. “Logan… who wrapped this?”
He threw his heavy winter coat on the chair and folded his arms over his blue flannel shirt. “Me, but thanks for the vote of confidence there, squirt.”
She popped her hands on her hips and glared at him. For twenty years they’d been best friends and for almost that entire time, he’d made fun of her height. “Listen, here Bruce Banner, just because you underwent a metamorphosis in seventh grade doesn’t mean we all need to be freakishly tall.”
Logan’s gaze swept over her living room. “No stockings, no tree, no decorations? What the hell, Em?”
She pushed past him and scooped up the box of pictures, intent on finishing her mental and emotional cleansing tomorrow. Who cared that it was Christmas? “If less is more, nothing is everything.”
Before she could stow her heartache back in the closet, Logan reached under the flap and pulled out a handful of photos. “Em…”
His voice was filled with sympathy and that only further irritated her. Her ex-boyfriend wasn’t worth anyone’s sympathy. Jeremy really wasn’t worth the twenty-six nights she’d spent crying over him before destroying his few remaining belongings and other reminders of their life together had become her focus. Even vengeance had lost some of its shine.
“I’m fine.” She shoved the box on the shelf in the closet and closed the door, turning to find him right behind her. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“I’m looking at you the way I’ve always looked at you.”
She wanted to punch him. Something she’d done frequently when they were growing up. That was exactly the problem. Maybe if he’d seen her as something other than just his best friend she wouldn’t have settled for someone like Jeremy. Something more than Logan’s fill-in plus one for weddings and parties when he was in-between girlfriends.
But she’d rather live with eternal unrequited love than lose her best friend so, just like always, she swallowed back the words. “I just didn’t feel like putting up decorations this year.”
Logan’s jaw clenched. Okay, she’d known he was Mr. Christmas since they were five years old. It only got worse after his dad died in high school. But really, he should understand she just wasn’t in the mood.
“I never liked that sorry punk.” He tightened his fist at his side. “But the fact he hurt my little Emmie so bad she’s hiding in her undecorated house on Christmas instead of spending it with—”
Emma held up her index finger. “First of all, I’m not your little Emmie.” She added a second digit. “Second, I’ve never been as into Christmas as you. I just…” She huffed and crossed her arms. “I just did it to humor you.”
Logan snorted. “Since you just dumped that asshole, I’m not gonna call bullshit, but we both know you used to hound me every day in high school to start decorating. You spent hours working on hanging lights and setting up those stupid inflatables my mom loved.”
“That’s because I wanted to spend every minute with you!” Emma clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as the words escaped. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
His brows drew together, and he crossed her living room, not stopping until he stood right in front of her. He reached a hand up and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. “Why did you want to do that, Emmie?”
She pressed her back against the closet door and captured her bottom lip between her teeth. Her hands fell down, hanging at her sides. “Because I was in love with you.”
Fire lit his baby blue eyes. “Was?”
Emma swallowed. She’d already lost her boyfriend a month before Christmas, did she really want to lose her best friend on Christmas Eve by answering that honestly? What for the love of all that’s good possessed her to tell him she’d been in love with him in high school?
She took a deep breath. Logan could read her every tell. He’d know immediately if she tried to lie. “Was. Still am.”
His arm snaked around her waist and he leaned into her. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Emma shrugged one shoulder, her mouth opening and closing a few times. Her hands slid up his arms to rest on his biceps. “You always looked at me like your best friend.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “My best friend is also the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I like looking at her in any way I can.” He brushed his lips across hers and electricity shot down to her toes. “And I’ve been in love with her for almost a decade.”
She moved her hands up to grip the back of his neck. “We’ve wasted a lot of time.”
“Please tell me I can really kiss you.”
Before she could answer, something scraped against the hardwood floor near the fireplace. She tightened her hold on him, fear coursing through her. “What was that?”
Logan chuckled, leaning his forehead against hers. “I think your present woke up.”
“W-woke up?” She pushed against his shoulder lightly and stepped around him, kneeling before the whimpering, spastic red box. “Logan…”
He ran a hand down her back and joined her on the floor. “Open it, Emmie.”
The lid was barely off the box when a chocolate ball of knotty fur jumped into her lap, looking for all the world like a living, breathing teddy bear. Tears collected in the corners of her eyes. “You remembered,” she breathed the words as she cuddled the puppy close to her face.
Once, two years ago she’d told him she had fallen in love with her neighbor’s labradoodle and desperately wanted one. But Jeremy was allergic.
Instead of answering, Logan leaned forward and captured her lips. Her heart sang as the boy she had a crush on throughout her childhood that morphed into a deeper love than she’d ever dreamed of gave her the most passionate, yet tender kiss she’d ever experienced.
She had no idea how long the kiss would have lasted if a sloppy, wet tongue didn’t slide across both their cheeks. Emma wrinkled her nose and pulled away. Logan laughed and wiped the sleeve of his shirt over her cheek and then his own. “Figures I have competition for my girlfriend already.”
“I’m your girlfriend now?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I have waited too damn long to not use that title as much as possible.”
Emma crawled into his lap, the puppy still snuggled in her arms. “I’m pretty sure I can love you both.”
Logan held her close to his chest. “Does this mean I get to call you my Emmie?”
This time Emma brushed small kisses along his jaw, her lips curving against his skin. “As long as I can call you mine.”
His eyes twinkled in the firelight. “Merry Christmas, Emmie. I love you.”
“Merry Christmas, Logan. I love you, too.” She released her present to explore his new home and laced her fingers together behind his neck. “Now, you can kiss me one more time before we get to work decorating this mausoleum.”
Logan’s laughter was swallowed by her demanding lips.
About the Author:
They say the average human is made of 60% water, but, as usual, Lily is the exception to the rule; made of roughly 85% coffee and the remaining 15% equal parts Southern charm and sass.
She loves good music, good words, and good chocolate. All three at once is a hat trick more impressive than anything Sidney Crosby has pulled off. Most non-writing or reading time is spent watching “Doctor Who” and cooking.
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