Goodbye Yellow Brick Road ✔︎

35 | A Sort of Homecoming

God, that boy.

I still can't get over how easy it was, how comfortable we are together. There were awkward moments, sure, but Conner made them funny. He made it fun.

I am so, so in love with him.

My vision clouds when I stand, reminding me of the importance of my mission. We need sustenance. We need to replenish. Sadly, the selection is pitiful: two boxes of crackers that pre-date the Halloween party and a bag of potato chips, baked not fried. Not my preference but they'll do. I open the refrigerator. Soda, water or beer? I'll bring one of each and let him choose.

No. Conner's in training.

I set the beer back on the shelf, close the door and tuck the bottled water under my arm so I can pick up the chips. No-No clicks into the kitchen, stops in front of me and yawns.

"Late night snack?" my aunt asks—and a chill rockets up the back of my neck.

It's 3:00 a.m. and she's sitting in her favorite chair, drinking her favorite drink. Her hair and makeup are flawless.

How long has she been there? What has she heard? I open my mouth to answer her question but then I realize the answer is obvious. And I am so busted.

"Come sit with me for a minute," she says. "I've missed you, darling."

It's a genuine darling. Tender and warm. I leave the chips and drinks on the counter and pad into the living room. She points to a stack of artfully wrapped presents sitting on the coffee table and says, "Merry Christmas."

"You want me to open them now?"

"If you can spare a moment."

Her eyebrows lift ever so slightly. She definitely knows I have company. And considering what I'm wearing—not much more than an oversized T-shirt that says, Straw For Brains—I think it's safe to say she knows who's waiting in my bedroom.

And apparently, she's okay with that?

"Start with the biggest box," she says.

It's a shoebox, obviously. I sit on the couch and tear off the paper. Designer shoes. "I can't take credit for the find," she says as I lift the lid. "Cassandra chose them."

They're white: designer cotillion shoes. And they are stunning. Simple but not plain. The lines are elegant, like a work of art, and there's a hint of texture in the leather, a bit of sheen that says, "Money is no object." I slip them on my feet, walk to the front door and back. "Oh my god, they're so comfortable."

"Mm," she agrees. "Cassandra has impeccable taste. She loves your dress, by the way. It's hanging in your closet."

My jaw drops. Coming from my aunt, that's practically an apology. "Thank you, Aunt Emily."

She smiles and waves her hand. "Keep going."

I tear into the next box. It's a necklace, a choker as delicate as the lace bodice of my Dorothy dress. The tiny pearls and rhinestones will look like they're floating around my neck because the silver wire supporting them is so fine. "It's just a suggestion," Emily says. "We can trade it in if you want to go in another direction."

"No, it's beautiful," I say. "Perfect."

The last box is from Tiffany's. Classic pearl earrings with a diamond drop. Exactly what I had envisioned—except with a much higher wow-factor. Because I'm pretty sure the diamonds are real. "It's nice to see you smiling again," my aunt says.

"Yeah, I'm happy to be back," I say, taking off my new shoes. "I brought you something from Virginia." Aunt Emily is obsessed with peanut brittle. And The Sweet Shop in downtown Haddock makes the best in The South.

"I saw it on the counter," she says. "Thank you for thinking of me."

She knows of course, that it was my mother who sent the candy but her tone is genuine and her smile is sweet. So maybe this is a good time to ask a question.

"I um, was wondering if I could change my escort for the Allemande. I haven't decided or mentioned this to anyone—I would ask Chase first, of course. But I think, under the circumstances, he would understand."

Emily's eyes dip to Conner's t-shirt. And ugh, I wish my current state of bralessness wasn't so obvious.

"I wouldn't want to hurt Jesminda's feelings either," I say. "It's not about me not wanting to be escorted by Chase. He's pretty much my best friend here."

"Talk to him and we'll go from there," she says. And then with a sweep of the hand, she shoos me back to my room, calling, "Don't forget your late-night snack," when I walk right past the kitchen. 

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Author's note: Happy Holidays!!! Thank you so much for sticking with Conner and Thea's story! There are only six more chapters to go! I'll be keeping up the two-at-a-time posting pace for sure, but there's a decent possibility I won't be able to stretch it out for three more weeks—because aaaaaahhh!!! So keep an eye out for bonus postings. ;)  ❤️❤️❤️