Elf Against the Wall: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (The Wynter Brothers Book 2)
Elf Against the Wall: Chapter 54

“There she is!” Ian crowed when he and Sawyer rushed over to the table I’d been occupying for the last couple of hours at the Winter Wonderland Café.

Sawyer dumped a duffel bag and my purse onto the bench beside me. Snowbell barked her displeasure as the bag strap hit her snout.

“We packed up your stuff. I didn’t take some of those Christmas decorations you’ve been carting around because I think you need a fresh slate.”

Ian scooped me up, hugging me, and spun me around. “You get all the drinks, Evie. That was fucking epic!”

“I’m sorry, Ian,” I began.

He brushed it off. “Don’t be. All is forgiven! My video is going viral, and Taylor Swift wants me to be in her next video. Aaah!” Several people turned to look as Ian screamed. “She commented on my post! I have ten thousand likes, by the way. Best. Christmas. Ever. Drinks! We need drinks! Let’s celebrate.”

“We have eggnog cider on tap,” the waitress said as she came by. “The bartender doesn’t feel like making cocktails. We’re trying to talk him off a ledge, so that’s what we have.”

“Sounds revolting. We’ll take a round,” Ian said cheerfully.

“Oh my god, you should have been there after you left.” Sawyer scooted in next to me on the bench.

“She didn’t just leave. She made an exit.” Ian snapped his fingers. “Ugh, I just want to throw a shoe at you, girl.”

The waitress came by with our noxious-smelling drinks.

Ian made a face. “We should have stolen a bottle of gin on the way out.”

“Granny Doyle was telling everyone about Grandma Shirley’s affair,” Sawyer relayed. “Also, Uncle Jaime and Aunt J got caught in one of the triplets’ rooms, making snow angels. Grandma Shirley is pissed because she’s losing another of her precious sons to Granny Doyle’s spawn.”

“Dad’s been drinking,” Ian butted in.

“Your mom has been drinking too. Shit, my god,” Sawyer added.

“Great-Aunt Eleanor took the entire beef Wellington and tried to walk out the door, and Grandma Shirley’s second cousin whacked her with a cane, and she fell.”

“She’s fine, though. The fire department came,” Sawyer assured me.

“They were so hot.” Ian fanned himself.

“So hot!” Sawyer clapped her hands.

“Felicity’s trying to make it all about her, of course,” Ian added.

“Of course.”

“And Henry. Saint Henry. He tucked his tail between his legs and left in disgrace! He is now the most hated Murphy. Ding-dong, the witch is dead! Rome has fallen.” Ian lifted his glass. “A toast, to Evie, who dethroned Saint Henry and made this the best Christmas ever!”

“Whoo,” I said, not really feeling it, as we clinked glasses. I sipped the drink.

Ian sighed.

Sawyer spun her glass around on its coaster.

Ian crossed his arms. The smile left his face. “Best Christmas ever,” my brother said again.

“Yeah.” My voice was dull. I wanted to go home. But not back to my parents’. Home was with Anderson, but I’d ruined it. For all my impassioned speech, the reality was that I was a fuckup. Who screwed up true love?

Evie Murphy, that’s who.

“You know, the dream of this day has kept me going through some dark moments. Now I’m living it.” Ian spun his glass in his hand, letting the Christmas lights reflect off the amber liquid. “I’m not the least favorite Murphy son anymore.” Ian took a sip of his drink. “But now that my dream came true, I don’t feel good. I just feel shitty.”

“Yeah.” I looked down at the table.

More silence followed.

“Saint Henry.” Ian poked at the foam in his glass.

“I think…” Sawyer began.

“Ugh, yeah, I know.” Ian made a disgusted noise. “I know.”

Henry, bag on his lap, sat on a cold metal bench at the bus station in the bad part of town.

“Who’s that wonderful boy!” Ian sang, his inner theater kid on full display.

Henry shrank.

The three of us joined hands and danced around him, chanting, “Murphy Misfit! Murphy Misfit!” while Snowball barked.

Sawyer threw a fistful of M&Ms at Henry.

“Hey.” Henry winced as the red, white, and green candies bounced off of his coat.

“I declare you,” Ian said solemnly, “King of the Misfits. You have done what no man has ever done—dethroned our mightiest queen—Evie Murphy.”

“Murphy Misfits!” We all begin chanting again.

“My liege.” Ian swept into a graceful dancer’s bow. “We await your proclamation.”

“You all are crazy,” Henry said with a small smile.

“And fucked up.”

“And disappointments.” Sawyer added.

“And so are you.” I blew Henry a kiss.

“But we day drink.” Ian shrugged.

“And night drink.”

“And occasionally dumpster dive.”

“Snowball is surprisingly good about scaring away the rats,” I said.

“I thought you all hated me. Especially you, Evie,” Henry said softly.

“Of course not.”

“A little.” Ian shrugged. “Just a smidge.”

“I was a shitty brother,” Henry said, rubbing his arm. “You don’t have to invite me into your club.”

“It’s a way of life.” Sawyer ruffled his hair.

“I need to go and manage the implosion of my life.” Henry’s shoulders sagged.

“Nah.” Ian dragged Henry to his feet. “You need a drink.”