Page 19 of Stuck with Me

“Make it stop,” Cammie groans.

“You’re a damn lucky woman, Grandma Nettie,” I say, transferring the sliced carrots to a dish.

Nettie spins around to face me and her eyes are glossy. “That’s exactly what Gigi used to say.”

I swallow past the lump of grief that’s been present all day. My own eyes begin to water.

“You know, whenever I shared with her that Pete was a generous lover?” Nettie teases, a wide smile filling her face.

And a bubble of laughter works its way up my throat until it erupts, along with it, tears. “I needed that, thank you.”

Nettie crosses the kitchen and wraps me up in a hug. “We all miss her. So damn much.”

“I know.”

And I do. Nettie and Pete had so many years with Gigi. Anyone who had the opportunity to know her loved spending time with her. She had an addictive personality. A captivating smile. And she was a fucking knockout. Those freckles. Shit. I wish I’d been blessed with them.

Cammie hugs us both.

As comforting as it is to be here, surrounded by everyone who knew and loved Gigi, I feel unsettled. There’s someone who loved Gigi that I never knew. Someone that Gigi felt she couldn’t tell me about.

“I have to go,” I blurt.

* * *

Despite pissingoff Cammie by leaving before Christmas dinner, I feel good about my decision to head up to the cabin early. It only makes sense to be at the place I feel closest to Gigi on Christmas. Besides, it’s only a day earlier than everyone else. And getting there before Mr. Cabin Stealer arrives has me feeling like I’m somehow one step ahead of him.

Since most of my stuff was already packed, it doesn’t take me long to load it into my Jeep. I’ve got coolers full of food and lots of booze.

The snow is falling harder the closer I get to the cabin and it’s accumulating fast. When I turn off the Interstate that winds up the mountain, taking the road that leads to the cabin, Mr. Jarvis’s side-by-side is up ahead. He keeps the road plowed with a blade on the front since the commercial plows don’t maintain these private roads.

He gives me a finger wave out his window, signaling me to go around him. When he slows, I pull up alongside him and open my passenger window.

“Hey, Mr. Jarvis. Thanks for clearing the road,” I holler over the loud rumble of both our engines.

“I’m doing my best. This is the second time I’ve been up and down the road just today. It’s really coming down,” he replies.

“It’s barely snowing in town.”

“When is the rest of your party set to arrive?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’m calling it quits after this, but I’ll be back out here in the morning.” He tips his hat at me.

“Thanks again. And Merry Christmas.” I wave and let off the break.

“Merry Christmas to you.”

The closer I get to the cabin, the faster my heart races. I reach the driveway and it takes some maneuvering to get my Jeep over the hump of snow Mr. Jarvis’s blade left. I park out front, taking a moment to collect myself. This is the first time I’ll be at the cabin on Christmas without Gigi. But somehow that feels better thannotbeing here today.

Possibly being here a day earlier than everyone else will mean I won’t have a breakdown while they’re all here.

I’m one of those independent assholes who tries to carry everything in one trip, despite the load being too heavy, too awkward, or just plain too much. This results in me dropping one of the coolers, along with two bags of groceries, right before I fall on my backside in the thick snow.

Dammit.

Not only am I freezing, but now my pants are wet too.

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