34. Scarlet

THIRTY-FOUR

SCARLET

"Merry Christmas everyone!" I exclaim, jumping down the last two stairs, my heeled boots making a loud clomp on the hardwood. Skipping over to Remington, the bells of my reindeer antler headband jingling, I clap my hands excitedly as he hands me a massive tumbler filled with iced coffee, his eyes blurry and unfocused. With a hardy sip of caffeine and sugar, my smile stretches further when the sweet taste of peppermint greets me. "Christmas-In-A-Cup," I cry, wiggling about as I take another long sip before stepping up on my toes and kissing him. "Thank you."

Mumbling, he nods his head and shuffles around the island to take a seat, the stool teetering as he partially misses it when he goes to sit down.

"Scarlet," Roman groans from the counter, head buried in his folded arms and hood pulled up. "It's three in the morning."

"But it's Christmas!"

"No," Reeves snaps. "It's Black Friday."

Waving him and his Grinchiness off, I dismiss, "Same thing."

"Ro, are you wearing the shirt? You know we have to wear the shirts. And where's your elf hat?"

Moaning as if he's in pain, my brother pleads, "Please don't make me wear the hat, Squeaks."

"But it's tradition!"

"It's three o'clock in the morning. Tradition can bite my ass."

"Scrooge!"

"No hat!" our dad answers just as bright eyed and bushy tailed as me, sliding into the kitchen, wearing his old Disney World t-shirt that says Most Expensive Day Ever and a Santa hat that's sitting cockeyed on his dark head.

"What?" I demand as Roman praises God, Jesus, and the maker of Dr. Pepper for small miracles.

"But he has to go, right?"

"Nope, just you and me Princess."

"But…" I start to pout looking to Remi for help. "It's our tradition…"

Scrubbing his hands down his face, his sleep roughened voice offers, "I'll go with you, baby. Just give me uh… ten minutes?"

Planting a kiss on my cheek as he passes behind me, dad goes to the fridge and pulls out the after feast sandwiches he prepped last night. Tossing one to me, I catch it and greedily unwrap the foil before taking a massive bite and glaring at Roman.

With two held in one hand for himself, my dad pushes his other down on Remington's shoulder, telling him, "Stand down, Tate. This is just me and Scarlet today. You three rest up because the real elf in the family will probably be drafting a to-do list for y'all while we're gone." Then pointing at my whiskey-colored leather jacket and chunky pink scarf that's wound around my neck, he asks, "Are you wearing it?"

"Like you even have to ask," I scoff. Putting my sandwich and coffee on the counter, I hold my scarf in my teeth and open up my jacket to reveal my Tangled t-shirt that reads Best Day Ever.

"Phone charged?"

"Remi plugged it in last night and ran the update. Besides, it'll charge in the car on the way there."

"Fair. AmEx, bank card, and cash?"

"Check, check, check," I repeat, slipping out the slender wallet from inside my jacket to show him.

One step ahead, I exchange it for my plan of attack and wave it like a battle flag as he asks, "Stores and gift list? Good. Then we are all set, Princess.

"Boys, enjoy your morning and be ready for Part Two of Christmas Day One when we get back."

"Aye-aye, Skipper," Roman sarcastically salutes as Reeves asks, "Is she gone yet?" while Remi, sweet as ever, simply responds, "Did you want me to get anything else while you're out?"

Throwing a piece of unwanted crust at Reeves and another at my brother for good measure, I smile, "No, but I'm wondering if I don't need the tree since we'll be going home once I finish finals."

"Baby, you want a tree, you're gettin' a tree."

"But it's only for like ten days. It's a waste."

"You want it, you're gettin' it. Now come on, I don't want to find out what happens if you and Colt fall behind schedule."

Walking us to the front door, Remi snatches my keys before I can and passes them over my head to my dad. Outside in the icy dark, he steers me to the passenger seat and helps me into my car, pulling the seat belt across me and buckling me in as my dad gets in on the driver's side. Hands on my cheeks, he kisses me, once, twice, then a third time, lingering just a bit on the last.

When he pulls back, he leaves one more on my forehead, cautioning, "Be safe, Scar." As he pulls back, he retrieves something from his pocket and clasping both of his over mine, passes me a card, shushing me as I begin to object. "Take it, use it."

"Remi—"

"Even if it's just to buy a coffee or one of those strawberry juice things from Starbucks."

"But I have?—"

Though sleep still clings to him, when he says my name it's with a careful earnestness.

"Is this important to you?"

"Very. Being an equal in this also means you start to see my assets as our assets. So we'll start small. Use my money to buy lunch or your next caffeine fix, okay?"

Nodding my head, I promise, "Okay, I'll use it."

"Good girl," he praises, the sleepy, gravely texture of his words making it sound far dirtier. Stepping out of the door, he repeats, "Be safe. I love you."

"I love you too."

Inside the car, I hook up my phone and turn on my Christmas playlist for the first time this season. High beams on to fight against the unlit, unpopulated, and foggy mountain road that leads to Remi's house—our house—my dad navigates us out of the driveway beginning to belt out, "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)," with me.