Evan narrowed his eyes. “Do you even realize how selfish this is of you? I never voice concerns like this. I keep them stuffed inside because every time I do, you act like I'm being ridiculous. Like I'm wrong. Well, I'm not wrong, and I'm not the only one who feels this way,” he told her, flat out. “Brandon asked me yesterday to talk to you about this, and I told him that I would, when I felt it needed to be said.” Somehow, though he hardly felt it, his voice was level. Not calm, but it wouldn't draw Mari's attention.
“If I'd asked you, would you have agreed?” An unnecessary question, because he knew the answer. “And if I'd have gone with you, it would've been just as bad. We'd have fought the whole time. So don't even try to treat me like I'm the bad guy here for being concerned.” It was too late, though. She already was.
Scoffing, Evan shook his head and turned around. “Whatever you say, Leah, as usual. I'm going to George's studio.” He grabbed a notebook of canvases and his paints, and started to walk out of the room, but stopped when he reached Mari and gave her a loving smile. He may not have been pleased, but it wasn't Marigold's fault, and he wasn't going to let her worry too much.
After crouching down to kiss Marigold on the top of the head, he told her that he'd be back later and headed off to the studio to paint some. Maybe Leah's Christmas wasn't ruined, but Evan's certainly was.