As if taking her cue from that, Suzanne moved three steps to close the distance between them. Her cheeks were pinker, and he knew it was from the sudden flush of emotion across her features. She held out her hand to him as she got closer, and Grady took it, a wave of goose bumps marching up his arm. She intertwined her fingers with his and sent him a smile that was part sad, part apology, part thank-you.

God, the woman was an open book. She practically vibrated with emotion.

“Grady’s been through so much,” she said, breaking eye contact as she glanced at her mom, and Grady felt lousy for not telling the full story. For not mentioning Bethany or the fact that the accident happened this time of year.

But these people were all going to be out of his life in a couple of weeks, damn it. He didn’t owe them his story. Plus, Grady knew there was a fine line between empathy and pity, and it narrowed even further the bigger the tragedy. He was done being pitied; he’d been done a long time ago.

Yes, he’d been dealt a turd sandwich seventeen years ago, but plenty of people had been dealt those and gotten on with their lives.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Joshua,” Simone said gently and with sincerity.

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago now. It’s in the past.”

Suzanne squeezed his hand again, and there was a moment of awkward silence—there usually was when people found out—as three sets of eyes settled on him. But Grady was well used to moving things along, to changing the subject.

“This”—he held up the angel, tugging his hand from hers as he held the abomination above his head with both hands—“however, is very much in the present.”

Albie laughed, breaking the tension, and Simone gave a little shudder that pretty much said she wished it was anywhere but the present.

“If we’re done trimming the tree, I can put it up top.”

“Yes.” Suzanne almost bounced on her feet as her gaze devoured the tree. “Put her on.”

Grady had to wonder about Suzanne’s normal Christmases if dominatrix Barbie had her so excited. She said they had been minimalist, but surely they weren’t as bad as this? Because she wasn’t acting here. She wasn’t kidding around, playing it up for her parents. Or at least, Grady didn’t think so. Suzanne was really into this. Grady took a couple of paces to the tree. It was about eight feet and, at six foot three—a few inches taller than her father—Grady’s reach was the longest. He placed the angel on the top branch with minimal stretch, then stepped back.

“It’s pretty as a picture,” Suzanne said on a happy sigh, her hands clasped together in front of her, fingers intertwined.