Elf Against the Wall: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (The Wynter Brothers Book 2)

Elf Against the Wall: Chapter 60



You seriously should have just said no.” Declan’s wife hurried up to us when my boyfriend—Yep, boyfriend!—parked his motorcycle in front of her house. “It was an early-morning text message. I seriously shouldn’t have sent it.”

“There are only so many Christmases we have on this earth,” I declared. “You have to make the most of them.”

My baby niece reached for me, babbling.

Anderson let Snowball out to sniff the snow.

Raegan handed me the baby.

“You can’t already be giving your mom trouble,” I teased my niece.

“She’s just like you.” Raegan grinned, linking her arm with mine. “Not sure if she’ll bring home one of those.” She lowered her voice as Anderson tried to corral Snowball from racing across the street toward someone’s Christmas yard art.

“So what are we working with?” I asked as we trooped into the house.

There was a half-decorated Christmas tree in the corner that desperately needed water, and a box of decorations my mom had sent home with Declan a few weeks ago on the coffee table.

“I’m not that great at entertaining, but my parents are at my sister’s for Christmas since this was Declan’s year for the family holiday, but thank god that’s not happening.” Regan wrinkled her nose. “No offense.”

“Absolutely none taken,” Anderson said dryly.

“We can make do. It’s not that many of us, right?” she added.

“I can make magic,” I promised.

“And coffee?” Raegan was hopeful.

“You need some protein too.” I tried to hand the baby back. She was teething on a crocheted teething ring I’d made.

“Hard pass. I will take that coffee, though.”

“You can help me decorate.” Anderson held out his arms for the baby, who screeched happily when he hoisted her over his head.

“I hit the grocery store after we got the hell out of the imploding house of Murphy,” Reagan said as I followed her to the messy kitchen. “Freaking epic, by the way.”

Their house had a beautiful open living-kitchen-dining area. On the other side of the space, Anderson had the baby under one arm, narrating what he was doing as he deftly hung up lights around the window.

I dumped out the stale coffee in the pot and washed it out. The pot gurgled as I started cleaning the messy kitchen. “Declan needs to step up.”

“It was a mutual failing.”

“Do we have enough food?” Anderson called.

I opened the fridge. “Is that the Christmas Eve ham?”

“Everyone was stealing food.” Raegan was unapologetic. “I wanted the mac ’n’ cheese, but your uncle Todd snatched it.”

Anderson nodded to the window. “No, that.”

Reagan and I raced out as Aunt J parked behind Anderson’s motorcycle.

“Woo!” My aunt held up a bottle of wine in each hand. “I heard there was a secret Christmas party.”

Nat and Lauren shuffled up, yawning. “Can we get an invite?”

“Up to Evie.” Declan’s wife nodded.

“Don’t bust your tits cooking, Evie!” Aunt J trilled. “I stole this out of my sister’s house.” She waved for me to follow her to the car.

Uncle Jaime gave me a sheepish “Hello” and opened the trunk, which was packed full of food, much of which I’d made yesterday.

My family members carried the dishes inside as another car screeched up in front of the house. The triplets spilled out, groaning, while Granny Doyle looked spry and chipper.

“Hell yeah, now this is a Christmas party—booze and shirtless men.”

“Shirtless?”

Anderson was carefully peeling off his spit-up-covered T-shirt.

“Better him than me,” Reagan said cheerfully, taking the baby back.

While I washed off his shirt, my female family members used the excuse to give Anderson very long Merry Christmas hugs.

“I think your grandmother touched my junk,” he muttered to me, reaching for an apron.

“Damn, that makes him look even sexier,” Aunt J said as she and Lauren grabbed a big stockpot and started dumping wine into it for holiday sangria.

“Oh thank god, only the cool people are here.” Ian and Sawyer breezed in, Henry slinking behind them.

“I’m shocked you’re up this early, Ian,” I joked.

“Never went to bed!”

Anderson gave Ian a guilty look. “I’m really sorry, man.”

“Don’t even worry about him. Taylor Swift liked his video and might hire him,” Sawyer cut in.

“Aaron’s assistant offered to put in a good word for him,” Anderson explained.

“I’m sorry. Your friend knows Taylor Swift?” Sawyer was shocked. “Can he get me a job?”

“He needs to give Henry a job.” Granny Doyle bustled in for more ice for the wet bar.

“He’s not giving Henry a job, Gran,” I said loudly, sliding the casseroles into the oven to start heating up.

“We can’t have multiple unemployed people in this family. My social security check doesn’t stretch that far.”

“Especially if you’re spending it on strip clubs and gambling.” Sawyer looked up at the ceiling.

“At my age, you gotta get action where you can.” She peered into the pot Lauren was stirring while simultaneously scrolling on her phone and poured in a splash of bourbon. “It always needs more alcohol.”

“You can be my new social media manager,” Ian offered Henry.

“There’s that Christmas spirit.” Sawyer punched his arm.

“What’s the pay?” Henry gave him a crooked smile.

“You can sleep on the floor on my half of the split bedroom I rent.”

“Fine. Why not?”

“I thought I was sleeping there!” I cried to Ian.

“You have got to get your life together, Gingersnap.” Anderson shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Evie.” Alana slid onto a barstool. “You’re moving in with your boyfriend!”

Anderson hissed. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the garage is technically a field office.”

“You don’t own the bat cave?” My mouth fell open.

“My brothers and employees will be taking over after Christmas,” Anderson explained. “We’re going to be dealing with top-secret information.”

“I’m getting evicted again. Merry fucking Christmas.”

“That’s okay. She can move in here.” Declan, looking tired in his scrubs, announced, sliding on a stool at the kitchen island.

Alexis hit him with a towel. “You need to step up, Declan. Your house is filthy.”

My cousins moved to hang out in Declan’s living room as I prepped the Christmas lunch.

More people knocked on the door as the morning wore on.

Granny Doyle and Snowball deputized themselves as bouncers.

“Only cool people get to come to this Christmas.” Gran opened the door a crack. “Don’t show up empty-handed.”

“I have half a bottle of gin,” Uncle Russ said.

“I’ll allow it.”

“I have a casserole!” A friendly-looking woman and two pugs, all wearing matching sweaters, followed my uncles into the house, along with Anderson’s siblings. “Thought you might need some food, but you’ve got it covered.”

“You all can’t be here if you’re going to start a fight,” Anderson warned his unapologetic siblings. “Gracie, you should take them back with you.”

“I’m bouncing from holiday party to holiday party, accepting food and accolades from my adoring fans.” His brother Jake spread his arms. “Ladies, I have arrived.”

Aunt J looked him up and down coolly. “Do you play hockey like your brother?”

“Better!” Jake waggled his eyebrows.

“Hm.” My aunt sniffed. “Not saying much.”

“Damn.”

“You said I was good,” Anderson protested.

“We’ll have another game after lunch—boys against girls.”

“Hell yeah! New favorite family.” Elsa flopped down next to Sawyer on the crowded couch.

“Merry Christmas, Murphys!”

I dropped the block of cheese I was grating.

“Brooke Taylor!” I screamed as she swanned through the front door in a cloud of perfume.

“I feel a migraine coming.” Aunt Trish sank onto a sofa, almost squashing one of the cats she’d insisted on bringing.

“I saw you on TV.” Elsa was astounded.

“I love your show,” Gracie gushed. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“I’m single, my parents are in Tahiti for Christmas, and you can’t go to a bar on Christmas morning. I mean, what is that, even?” She headed to the wet bar but stopped short when she saw all of Anderson’s younger brothers. “Is there an after-Christmas sale, by any chance? Because I want three for one.”

Granny Doyle snorted. “Don’t look too excited, boys. You couldn’t handle her.”

“Full disclosure.” Brooke took a sip of her mistletoe martini. “We thought this might go a little bit better if I was here.”

“Hell no! You all are not invited, especially you, Shirley!” Granny Doyle yelled as my parents and grandmother hovered in the doorway.

Anderson moved to stand protectively next to me.

Stubbornly, I moved to stand in front of him.

“Gingersnap…”

I held my arm out when he tried to bypass me.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” I told my parents. “All your efforts to make me independent and not a freeloader have paid off. Congratulations. I won’t ever sleep in your house or eat your food or take so much as a bag of garbage from you ever again.”

My dad looked guilty. My mother sighed.

“I know you don’t have anything to say to us, Evie. But we have something to say to you, if you want to hear it.”

“No, I don’t,” I said then immediately regretted it because I was insanely curious.

“Fine.” My mom turned to Anderson. “We owe you an apology,” she said formally. “And a thank you. You saved our son’s life all those years ago, and we’ve treated you horribly since then. You are obviously an honorable man, and now you’ve saved the lives of two of our children and my mother. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“I know that I said over the last few weeks,” my father added, “that you weren’t good enough for my daughter, but—”

“She’s not good enough for him?” Sawyer interjected.

“That is not what I was going to say.” My dad took a breath. “Anderson, I couldn’t think of anyone better for my wonderful daughter to fall in love with.”

He turned to me. “Evie, I know you didn’t want to hear this, but I have to say it. You’re right. We have been unfair to you and hard on you. Your mom and I never treated you like an individual, and that’s a failing on our part.” He smiled sadly. “I remember when the adoption agency worker first placed you in my arms. Your mom and I were so excited to finally have a daughter. I held you against my chest and promised to be the best dad ever. Clearly, I failed at that, and I am sorry.”

“I never really understood you.” My mother made a helpless gesture. “And I never tried to either. I regret that. I wanted a strong, confident daughter who wouldn’t take crap from anyone, but I couldn’t actually handle her once I got her. I’m sorry, Evie.”

My parents stood there for an awkward moment while the rest of my inebriated family members watched, stunned.

“If you’re waiting for a dinner invitation, you’re not getting one,” I said finally.

My parents, especially my dad, seemed sad.

“I also own you an apology. I obviously misjudged you, young man.” Grandma Shirley squeezed her handbag. “Though not on the cake decorating. You are better than my mother was, certainly better than any of my children or grandchildren, though Evie is a close second.” Grandma Shirley cleared her throat. “While I understand I’m not welcome for Christmas, I’d like to invite you for dinner when your schedule allows, Anderson. You and Evie. I’d like to get to know the newest member of the Murphy family.”

She pushed her handbag onto her shoulder. “Well. Merry Christmas.”

“One last thing before we go.” My father had a pained expression on his face. “We understand, Anderson, that our daughter threw a piece of ceramic usable artwork at your vehicle, damaging it.”

“She what?” Anderson squinted.

“You mean the dildo?” Aunt Trish asked dreamily from the couch.

Granny Doyle sat it on the table. “Just in case someone’s car goes in the river, this thing could come in handy.”

“To that end, we have replaced your truck,” my father concluded.

“Damn!” Anderson’s brothers crowded around the doors and windows with my male cousins.

“Sweet ride.”

“That’s a nicer truck than Hudson’s.”

“Where’s Evie’s gift?” Alana piped up.

My mom blinked.

I crossed my arms.

“We got Evie a job,” my mom said primly.

“No, thanks. I’m going to be a stay-at-home girlfriend in Idaho.”

“No.” Anderson shook his head. “You’re not.”

“You don’t want to come work in Manhattan with me?” Brooke asked sweetly. “Mel said you would love to be my new creative assistant.”

Someone was screaming.

Anderson winced.

“Oh my god! Are you serious? But I don’t have a degree.”

“You have a good eye for decorating and cooking. I’m starting my own cable network, and we need content, like, now. Dog-sweater knitting, a book club, subscription boxes, jams, the works! And December will be all Christmas, all the time. We’re redoing your mother’s house.” Brooke turned and looked my boyfriend up and down. “I don’t suppose you’d be up for recreating the cause of the ceiling collapse, Anderson?”

“I’d be glad to be his body double, ma’am,” one of his brothers offered.

“How’s the pay?” my father asked.

“Mediocre.” Brooke took a long pull of her drink.

“I’ll take it!” I pumped a fist.

“It’s a quick train ride to Harrogate. You can come visit us!” one of the triplets said, excited.

“I thought you were going to be taking care of your new man, Evie,” Grandma Shirley said pointedly. “If you don’t, someone else will.”

“Now, that, we can agree on.” Granny Doyle toasted her.

“Can we eat so we can play hockey?” one of my cousins complained.

“I guess you can stay,” I said begrudgingly to my parents—partially because it was Christmas and I needed some good karma and also because I wanted Brooke Taylor to have Christmas dinner with me.

Henry passed our parents to lay out the food on the dining table, pointedly not acknowledging them.

Ian scooted a barstool aside. “Did you tell them the good news?” he asked Henry.

“You’re still employed?” My mom was hopeful.

“No, just got the ‘Merry Christmas, you lost your security clearance’ email,” Henry said.

“Told you they work holidays.” Anderson carved the turkey, the dogs begging at his feet.

“I asked them to amend your discharge information,” Henry said to Anderson, still sounding guilty.

Anderson just grunted.

“Henry’s going to be my new social media manager,” Ian announced brightly.

My mother clamped her mouth shut.

“That sounds like fun,” my father forced out. “And I’m sure Ian will be glad to have someone capable heading his team.”

“I do actually know about algorithms,” Henry warned Ian. “You’re not just going to fart around. There’ll be a schedule, and I’m tracking your numbers. This isn’t going to be like whatever bullshit you and Evie pull.”

“If you need money for rent…” My mom opened her purse.

“You never offered Evie and Ian rent money,” Henry reminded her pointedly.

“Don’t worry about Evie,” Brooke said. “This is going to be a very intensive job, so she can and should sleep at the office.”

“Why don’t we pay to get your license back so you can finally drive again?” my mom offered.

“I don’t want her driving my truck,” Anderson said flatly.

“No problem. I’ll get a motorcycle license.”

“No!” Anderson and my parents said at once.

“Ye of little faith.”

My family filled their plates. Nat and Lauren tried to convince Brooke Taylor to give them a show on her new cable network while Granny Doyle and Grandma Shirley squabbled over where I was going to live. My cousins and Anderson’s siblings talked hockey strategy while the cats tried to jump onto the counter, and Aunt Trish sketched out potential set designs for Brooke. My family members who, like Declan, had just ended their hospital shifts all talked loudly and in excruciating detail about the patients they’d seen.

Finally, I dragged Anderson out the back door.

“That’s the problem with open floor plans,” I said, loosening my apron. “You can’t hide in the kitchen.”

“Already planning for our farmhouse?”

“Or maybe a lodge near the falls. But more likely a shack in the woods. We’ll wear lots of sweaters. It will be like Laura Ingalls Wilder.”

Anderson looked down at me. “Gingersnap, we’re not living in a shack. I haven’t been working for free all this time.”

“I feel like that’s a dig at me. But I can contribute, you know.”

Anderson raised an eyebrow and tugged one of the curls that had escaped my bun. “Don’t you have a laundry list of people you owe money to?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to win it all back gambling on reindeer racing.”

He kissed me, smiling. “I love you. Trust me when I say I can get you your dream house wherever you want.”

“I love you, and my dream home is wherever you are.” I sank into his arms. “But just to clarify… wherever?”

He thought for a moment. “Not Manhattan. That’s between you and Santa.”

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