Right Gift Wrong Day_A Right Text Wrong Number Novella

by Natalie Decker

  “I get it! I get it. I ask you for a lot of stuff. I’m sorry.”

  Juliet sighs. “Ugh, stop making that face, Layla. You know I hate it.”

  I keep giving her the puppy dog eye pout. She stamps her feet. “God, you really are the devil. Fine. I’ll do it but don’t expect it to taste amazing. Good baking requires care and I don’t know if you noticed lately but I don’t give a crap.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” I know my sister is awesome even in her foulest of moods. I leave the kitchen and grab my purse hanging by the front door and sift through my dollars. “I’ve got about fifty bucks. Is that going to be enough?”

  My sister quirks up one side of her mouth. “I think so. Come on.”

  “Wait, we’re leaving now?” I don’t mean to ask like this, but her hair is super cray-cray. The shirt she’s wearing may be clean, but she doesn’t match. She has on fuzzy flannel bottoms that are white and green and a hot pink shirt. Come to think of it, I think that’s actually my shirt, and Mom must have accidentally hung it up in her closet.

  “I can’t give you the list of ingredients.”

  I scowl. “Thanks a lot. You’re a jerk!” Never mind. I don’t know why I bother asking her for help. I mean she’s a hot mess. Maybe I’ll go to the bakery after all.

  Her green eyes soften. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant you don’t bake so I am pretty sure you have no clue what fleur de sel is, and from your blank expression, I can tell I must be right.” My sister sighs. “It’s a special type of sea salt by the way.”

  “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go.” I’m still upset with her. Well, mostly with myself. Truthfully, I really want to be the one to make these cookies for Tyler. But they’ll probably taste like garbage if I did it. How the heck am I ever going to make cookies or anything else for Tyler if I can barely read the ingredients? Let alone measure out the correct amounts? My dyslexic brain will screw it all up.

  Juliet plows past me, out the door, and slides into the driver side of her Wrangler. Of course, she wants to drive. That’s just one more darn thing she’s better at than I am.

  Juliet tosses one more item into our cart. “How much stuff is this going to cost? I told you I only have fifty bucks,” I snap. The more crap she tosses in there, it’s looking close to seventy dollars’ worth of stuff.

  She glares. “You either want me to make cookies or do you want to keep crying while you’re pushing the cart? He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have to be doing any of this.”

  I puff. “I know. But I think this is getting up there in price, right?”

  “It’s not. We barely have fifteen dollars’ worth of stuff in the cart. I only need two more items. Everything else is already at the house.”

  “Oh.” I feel so stupid.

  She lifts her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I wanted more sleep today and you know I hate shopping.” The aisles are stacked with people too and my sister hates crowds. She snorts at something. “This whole ‘tis the season to be jolly’ feels like a kick to my throat.”

  “Because of Mark?”

  She glances over at me. “What? No. I mean yeah, I thought he was someone awesome and it turned it out he was a total douche. I was talking about the other stuff. Mom and her mystery boyfriend. You, going off to your prince charming. I’m alone.”

  I frown. “I get it. You can totally come with me.”

  Juliet gives me the side eye. “Um … no offense, Layla, but I’m not going to be in the mood to hang out with your man’s family. Thanks for the offer though.”

  I wish I could do something to bring her out of her depressed mode. Before Tyler entered my life, or maybe my text message entered his, whatever way sounds the best, I felt like she did. I didn’t think I would find someone ever again. I certainly never thought the perfect person for me was Tyler. But he is.

  “Ugh. You’re doing it again. Getting all starry-eyed. Stop thinking about him for two seconds and help me unload this stuff,” Juliet grumbles as she pulls the cart to the checkout lane. I don’t even remember pushing the cart here. That’s what thinking about Tyler does to me though. I get so happy that I forget reality. That’s real love, right?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tyler

  I start to head out of my house to swing by Jared’s and pick him up. My dad is in the den area next to the garage pouring himself a drink.

  “Where are you going? Did that girl of yours ask you to keep her company?” He winks at me then lifts his glass of whiskey to his lips.

  “Yeah, Dad. Don’t tell Mom,” I say. That’s the only thing my dad understands is work, and getting some action from a girl.

  He nods. “Just be back for breakfast, you know your mother will be on her special broom if you don’t.” He stumbles over to the Christmas tree set up in there. “Four damn trees. Who in the hell needs four damn trees? It’s like we’re living in a forest.”

  “Right. Well, nice chat. I gotta run.”

  “Uh huh.” He slumps down into the sofa and continues to drink. I take this chance to make my exit.

  “Dude, what took you so long? You told me you’d be here ten minutes ago,” Jared snaps.

  “Sorry. My dad caught me, so I had to explain what I was doing.”

  “Wait. You told your dad you were going to sneak into your girlfriend’s house and decorate it? And he was okay with that?”

  I shrug from the driver’s side of my Cherokee. “Yeah. Did you get the star?”

  Jared looks annoyed. “It’s in my bag. I hope you know I felt like my manhood shriveled up and died when I bought it.”

  I’d laugh at this but at least he didn’t have to go buy ribbon unlike me. Layla better appreciate this shit once Jared and I are done.

  “Don’t peel out of here, I don’t need my dad waking up and calling the police,” Jared warns.

  I roll my eyes. “Bro, when have I ever tried to get you in trouble? You know what, don’t answer that.”

  “Exactly.”

  We cruise to Layla’s house. The clock on my dash turns one o’clock as I shut off my lights and throw my Jeep in park, once we enter her driveway.

  I reach the door and without thinking reach for the doorbell. Jared slaps my hand away. “Are you nuts? Don’t touch that. It’ll wake the whole house. You’re supposed to call Juliet.”

  I give Jared my phone. “You call her. I’ll get the shit out of the back.”

  I make my way to the back end of my vehicle. Jared hisses, “We look like a bunch of creeps out here.”

  I pop up my back door. “Oh, shut up.” I stack two boxes and walk back to the porch.

  The front door opens and Juliet waves us in. The floor beneath Jared creaks and Juliet scowls. “Shhhh. You wanna wake up the whole house, you oaf?”

  “Oaf?” Jared has the most confused expression and I want to laugh.

  I tap his ass with my foot. “Yeah, oaf, we need to get this done. Quit screwing around.”

  Jared narrows his eyes at me. “Do you have any more boxes in the back of your Cherokee?”

  “It’s cool, I’ve got it. Juliet, how about you take Jared to your supply of Christmas stuff.”

  She folds her arms and huffs. “Come on. Move those big feet quietly.”

  “I’ll try to be a little more stealth mode for you, shorty,” Jared muses.

  “Don’t you ever call me that again or I will rip out your tongue,” Juliet growls.

  Wow. I feel a little sorry for Jared. One wrong move and my boy might be going home ballless.

  I retrieve the last box from the back and make my way inside. I look around the living room which is dimly lit by the small light on the table leading to the spare bathroom and Ms. Valentine’s office.

  I open one of the boxes near me and pull out the pre-lit strings of garlands. I plug three separate strings together and tiptoe up the stairs. I start to wrap one end around the banister and Layla’s door pops open. Shit. I use my football training exercises and hit the deck. My chin smacks against the s
tep and I bite back a groan.

  “Juliet?” I hear Layla say in a groggy voice.

  “Yeah. Here. Sorry,” Juliet pants and then she steps right on my hand and twists her heel. Mother of Jeeee … I hold in my grumble as sharp pain fills my hand.

  Relief comes when her foot leaves my hand, but the pain comes back. What the hell did I do to deserve this type of abuse?

  “Oh. Okay,” Layla says. “I was going to get a snack.”

  “Nooooo!” Juliet tells her. “I was um … I have an idea. Let’s um … try those cookies out?”

  “What? No. I’m not going to eat Tyler’s present.”

  Cookies! She got me cookies? I want to hop up and hug my girl.

  “We don’t have to. I have a bunch of spares from the batches we made in my room,” Juliet says.

  Layla grumbles. “Oh my God. Have you cleaned in there since this morning?” I hear Layla ask, her voice seems to fade. I lift my head and watch Juliet shove Layla into her room. Yeah, that’s not suspicious or anything. We’re going to be busted before the night’s through. I can feel it.

  Jared whispers, “Are they gone?”

  “Yeah. Shhhh. We’ve got to be super quick.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  I get up and work my way down the banister. I’m halfway done, and I hear, “I just want some milk,” Layla says.

  Son of a bitch. I hop and roll off the side of the banister and motion for Jared to kick the boxes to me. He does, and we hide near the stairs like a bunch of burglars.

  “Juliet, were you trying to decorate the stairs?”

  “Uh. Yeah. You caught me though, so I decided to distract you with the cookies,” Juliet says. “Will you please let me get the milk? I don’t want to ruin any of the other surprises.”

  “Fine. Bring it to my room though. Your room smells like a sweat box. It’s gross.”

  “Whatever.”

  Jared nudges me. “I thought she was supposed to be asleep?”

  “Layla?” I ask. “I thought so too but whatever. Juliet seems to have gotten us covered for now.”

  “She also took credit for your gift,” Jared says.

  Yeah. For now, she did.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Layla

  I rise from my bed earlier than usual. My body should be stiff and tired since I woke up around one o’clock and didn’t go back to sleep until possibly one thirty or so.

  I tilt my neck from side to side and then stretch as I make my way to the door. I go down the steps and smile as the smell of cinnamon fills the air, twinkly white lights with red and gold ribbons spiral around garland which wraps around the banister. I hit the last step and there is our old flannel tree skirt under a tree which is bigger and full of lights, unlike the one that was there before I went to bed.

  Wow. Juliet went all out. Wonder how long she stayed up working on this? I step into the kitchen which has a snowflake tablecloth spread across the table with two lilies one white and one red along with a card that has my name on it. I pick it up and pull out the card.

  “Call me. Love, Tyler.”

  I run back up to my room and grab my phone.

  “Oh my God! Did you help?” I ask as soon as he answers the phone.

  “Yeah. Jared and your sister helped. Like it?”

  “I love it! Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome. You deserve the best.”

  I laugh. “No, I don’t but thank you. Was that you I heard on the stairs then?”

  “Yeah. Your sister might have broken my hand with her foot.”

  “Ah. I’m sorry.”

  “You might need to kiss it to make it all better.”

  I snort. “Will I?”

  “Oh yes. It was the doctor’s orders.”

  “Which doctor was this?”

  “Dr. Richardson. He said you have to kiss my wounded hand.”

  “Maybe tonight. Are you still coming here at seven?”

  “Yep. Speaking of … I should probably get going. I have to help do some shit around here.”

  “Don’t you usually pay people to do stuff?” I ask.

  “Yeah. But my mom was so pissed about the Christmas trees she is making all of us and her hired help miserable. I swear if I didn’t tell you I’d come get you I would be doing what my dad is doing and kick back a few drinks.”

  “Oh. Did you want me to drive?”

  “No. Babe. Kidding. Shit. I’ll see you soon. Check the fridge.”

  “What?” The phone goes dead and I walk over to the fridge.

  I open it and inside is a small cupcake with a Christmas tree decorated on it. Aw. It’s so cute I almost don’t want to eat it. I only wait a second then I’m diving in. Oh wow, it’s so delicious.

  “What in the … girls?” my mom starts as she descends the stairs.

  She better not ask us to take it down. “What is all this?” she asks as she enters the kitchen.

  “Um …” Crap I can’t tell her Tyler came into our house and did this, can I? She might start insinuating things and I do not need to hear about the whole consequences that can occur if I have sex too early. That is one awkward conversation I wanted to avoid for life if possible.

  “You girls … You can’t do this without talking to me.”

  I don’t know why her words hit me like bricks. I feel anger swell inside of me. I don’t really want to blow up at her. “Like how you were supposed to talk to us before you started dating that Evan guy?”

  My mom marches over to the coffee pot. “Do not start.”

  “Well, it’s staying up.”

  She huffs. “We will talk about this later.”

  “Whatever.” Only my mom could take a good thing and ruin it in an instant.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tyler

  My mom is in one of her moods. Every little thing she considers to be out of place is pissing her off to the point, I just want to leave the house and never return. My father must have the same thought because he adjusts his necktie once again and glances at the door. I predict we’ll have about five seconds of peace before she starts screaming at the two of us.

  “What the hell is this? I asked for five white and five red poinsettias. Tyler, didn’t you pay attention when you picked this up?” she snaps while her hands rest on her hips.

  “I didn’t know what you ordered. You said, ‘Pick up the flowers,” I say to her. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father shaking his head. I don’t care at this point if it makes her angrier. She’s wrong. I’m right. End of story.

  “Well, I didn’t think I had to tell you there was supposed to be an equal amount of each color. Instead, I have eight reds and two whites.”

  “Honey, it’s going to be fine. No one is going to comment on the floral arrangements,” my father says.

  She throws her hands up in the air. “Oh yes, they will. That damn Marcy Bennett gossips about everyone’s parties.”

  Marcy Bennett? Wait a second, I thought this party was just for family and the firm, not mom’s snotty country club friends too. Oh hell. I can’t bring Layla here. I won’t. Those people are animals. They make high school and all the social cliques look like a cake walk.

  “You said it was family and some of Dad’s firm,” I say.

  My mother looks over at me. “What was that?”

  “You told me that some of the firm was coming and family. I’m not bringing my girlfriend here now. Forget it.”

  “Tyler, don’t talk to your mother like that,” my father grates.

  My mother makes an offended huff. “I don’t see what difference it makes. If you like her so much, she’ll eventually meet these people anyway. Does she not have any manners? Class?”

  “Our definition of ‘class’ and ‘manners’ isn’t the same. Those people you call ‘friends’ have about as many manners as a donkey.”

  “Tyler! Don’t you say such things about the people who work at your father’s firm.”

  “I’m not.”

>   She gasps.

  My father walks over to the bar and starts pouring himself a drink.

  “All right, Mom, I got the desserts from the bakery,” my sister calls out as she enters the house carrying three big boxes.

  I take this chance to break away from my family and head out the front door.

  I arrive at Layla’s house thrumming against the steering wheel. I need to go in. She needs to know who the hell she’s about to walk in on if she decides to come with me.

  I step out of my Cherokee and walk toward the front door. It’s decorated with a brightly lit wreath I hung there early this morning. Lifting my knuckles to the wood, I take a deep breath and tap against the grain. It was a moment later the door opened.

  “Tyler, hello. Come on in,” Ms. Valentine says.

  “Thank you, Ms. Valentine.” I step inside.

  She scoffs. “None of that Ms. Anything, you hear me? You’ve been over here and have eaten with us more than enough times. Please call me Angela.”

  I nod. “Is Layla upstairs?”

  “She is. You can go on up.”

  “Thank you.” I go up the stairs to her room.

  I knock a few times, and her door springs open. “Hi! Oh, am I late again?” she asks with a frown.

  “Not in the least. I’m early.”

  She lets me into her room and goes over to her vanity. I take a seat on her bed. “I want to talk to you about the party.”

  Layla looks back at me with one eyelash coated with mascara. “What about it? You sound odd.”

  I swallow hard. “My parents invited more guests than I expected.”

  Layla shifts back to her mirror. “Well, that’s okay, right?”

  “No. Not really.” God, how the heck am I going to explain this to her? These people are ruthless jackasses. “They’re a bunch of rich assholes. I don’t want to put you through that. How about we just not go?”