“Oh, hey, Wes. I didn’t think that would be you.” Kensie opened the door wide and smiled at me. She was lying, by the way. She knew it was me, and she didn’t want to offend Augie when she immediately recognized my knocking. I mean, pounding.

I walked past her, letting myself in, and flopped onto the chair by the door. “August here?” I tapped my feet on the ground.

“He’s at work.” She held up a bottle of water to me, but I shook my head. I wasn’t here to socialize. This was business.

“I’ve gotta get to the shop, but I needed to ask you something.” I stood back up because I just couldn’t get comfortable.

“Okay, shoot.” She sat on the couch across from me. My legs itched to move, so I paced back and forth in front of her.

“We’re still doing that ornament exchange thing here on Christmas Day, right?” I sat back down in the chair because my legs got tired from pacing. To be honest, I thought the idea was stupid at first, but then August told me that it was Capri’s idea. She was a pretty smart chick, so ornament exchanges were phenomenal, I bet. Probably the best time I’d have all year.

“Yeah, we’re still planning on it.” Kensie twisted her face at me. “Do you need to use the bathroom, Wes?”

“What?” I stopped in the middle of the floor where my legs had brought me to move again. “No. I just got this pedometer thingy. I’m trying to take lots of steps. Lots and lots.”

I forced myself to sit back down on the chair. “Okay, I’d like to put in a request to obtain Capri’s name for the ornament exchange.” I squeezed the whiskers of my beard in my hands and kept my eyes on Kensie.

A slow smile crept across her face. “Why?”

“What? What do you mean why? Can’t a guy request whom he wants to give his ornament to? Is this not America?” My feet tapped on the floor.

Kensie snorted at me and leaned into the couch. “Yeah, Wes, this is America, land of free ornament giving. Okay, you’ve got Capri.”

“Yesss.” I jumped up from my seat. “I mean,” I smoothed my jeans and sat back down, “I’ve got this ornament I’ve had for a while now. I think she’d like it, so thanks. Now I can get it off my hands.”

“Oh, you just have Christmas ornaments sitting around your house?” She laughed, and I blew out a puff of air that had been threatening to strangle me since I got here. Only I would die by the death of my own air.

“Yes.” Lie. Lie. Lie. Shut up, head. Kensie didn’t need to know that I’d spent three hours at the mall yesterday looking for just the right ornament for Capri, or that I let Bernadette squeeze my bicep before sending her into the stock room for thirty minutes looking for this one particular ornament. She tried to sell me on a heart, which was lame, and then on the snowman with snowballs, which was amazing. I knew the paintbrush was the one.

“Well, I suppose it’s lucky for you that it’s the perfect one for Capri.” She grinned at me.

“Lucky me,” I grit out. I was not lucky or getting lucky, at least not since Thanksgiving night two weeks ago. Bearing witness to the breakup of Capri and the tool Tanner left my manaconda out of service to any other woman. It was like the big guy suddenly saw a window of opportunity and refused to let me think of anyone other than the blond-haired beauty. I literally couldn’t get her off my mind. History had been made. I was smitten.

“Is that your phone?” Kensie asked, startling me from my thoughts of my best friend’s pretty little sister.

“Where?” I looked around.

“Ringing, or I guess barking? Your phone barks?” She scratched her head and looked confused, which was uncalled for. Of course, my phone barks.

“Oh yeah, sorry, let me get that.” I stood up and pulled my phone from my pocket.

“What’s up, old man?” I stretched my arm above my head.

“Morning, Marilyn.” Blue hacked into the phone so loud that I had to pull it away. Kensie curled her face up, and I motioned to the door to let her know that I’d see myself out. She nodded and waved good-bye.

“Need you to—” He stopped to cough again. “Need you to manage the shop today.” He wheezed out another series of coughs. So glad I quit smoking. I slipped out the front door and waited to hear Kensie lock it before heading to my car.

“No problem. Everything okay?” It wasn’t every day that Blue asked me to cover as manager. Actually, I could only think of one other time and that was when he had to sit in a hospital bed while waiting to piss a stone out.

“Do dicks rise every morning even without a pussy close by?” Blue gruffed out.

“Mine sure does; not sure we could say the same for you, old man,” I teased him, swinging my legs into my car.

“Fuck off and thanks.” He hung up. I held the phone away from my ear and shook my head. Whatever happened to manners? I tossed my phone into the passenger seat but fumbled for it when I saw it bounce off the bag that had Capri’s crystal ornament in it. I hoped I didn’t break it. What was I thinking anyway? I had no business giving that to her, but I had to. I couldn’t squelch the need to do something to get her to look my way, and once she did, no doubt homegirl would like what she saw.

6 weeks later

Spinning the brush in the glass, I watched the translucent water swirl as tails of Onyx spun into each ring of the vortex. I pulled the brush from the glass and gently tapped the bristled edge to remove excess water before blotting it on the paper towel. Then I smothered the brush in Kettle and turned my attention back to the iris on my paper.

I’d taken up the habit of painting him sporadically over the last few years. Though, I never painted his entire likeness, just bits and pieces; an under-shaved cheek with a dimple, a set of full lips quirked up in mischief, a bicep with a marlin wrapped around it. In the last few weeks since Thanksgiving night, he’d haunted my creative mind.

That very night I sat up until the early morning hours painting every detail of his eyes. I hadn’t even changed from my clothes; feeling the immediate need to purge his concerned eyes from my brain. No matter how many times I attempted their warm tone from that night, I could never perfect it on paper. I’d tried a variety of brushstrokes but could never get the right texture to pull off the depth in his stare.

A dash of light flashed across the irises on my paper.

I glanced over my shoulder at the crystal paintbrush ornament Wes had gotten me. I was stunned at the perfection of it and even more stunned that he’d chosen it for me. I had hung it from my curtain rod as soon as I got home on Christmas night. It was the perfect place for the sun to seep into the faceted glass every morning and burst a monochromatic rainbow into my stark white room.

The light bounced to the photo on my desk of August and me with our grandfather. I smiled, touching my finger to it. I’d gotten my love of art from him. When he passed away a few years ago, he left me with my talent, a small inheritance, and a lifetime of memories with him showing me how to turn a talent into my passion. I wondered what he’d say about what I’d done with my passion now.

I looked back down to my painting and tossed my brush into the cup of water. Time to get this thing out of sight with the rest. I turned down Florence and the Machine’s version of “Addicted to Love” that had been on repeat and pulled my phone out to check the time. Much to my despair, I had plans to go shopping with my best friends, Kensie and Lennon, this afternoon for bridesmaid’s dresses.

With my vast collection of accessories and shoes, they’d never guess how much I disliked shopping. I’d play it off today, though. Plastering on a cheery façade while rifling through the racks of monotony.