Page 60 of The Christmas Eve Delivery

“There’s no reason you can’t set up your television in the lobby. And I’ll order pizza.”

“But my guests,” I started.

“Your guests have televisions in their own rooms. They don’t need to join our pity party. They can order their own pizza if it seems like a good idea to them.”

“Maybe we should wait until Mrs. Griffin?—”

“We are not waiting a couple of days when you clearly need carbs, and ice cream, and action romance movies where the hero kicks butt and the girl gets the guy.”

She was right. I needed something to change my outlook now, and not when it would fit better into my work schedule.

“Can we have chocolate ice cream?” I asked.

“We can get whatever flavor they have down at the IGA,” she claimed.

“Then I definitely want chocolate with chocolate sauce and whipped cream and maybe some maraschino cherries.”

“Why don’t we have banana splits while we’re at it?” Evie suggested.

Banana splits and pizza sounded like a very good idea to me.

“Why don’t you get the pizza and get your TV and set it up in here while I go to the grocery store and get everything we need for banana splits? That way, you can stay here in case any of your guests need you.”

I agreed with her plan, and we both jumped into action almost immediately. I ordered two pizzas, one with her favorite toppings and one with mine. While we both loved pizza, I never could quite get behind having pineapple on it. Evie thought adding pineapple and banana peppers made the pizza even better.

I stood in front of the TV pointing the remote at it, trying to find what would be a good movie for us to start with, when Evie walked in the door, carrying a couple of bags of groceries.

“I have a question for you,” she said.

“Shoot,” I responded.

“Dessert first or pizza first?”

“That is a very good question,” I said.

My stomach started to gurgle with anticipation of having a fancy banana split, and the thought was more appealing to my tongue at the moment than the thought of pizza actually was.

“I don’t see why we can’t start with a small banana split before having pizza. And we can end the evening with a second banana split if that’s what we really want to do.”

“Go wild with those thoughts,” Evie said.

“There are no rules when it comes to eating pizza and ice cream,” I said. “If we want to have an ice cream appetizer, followed by a multi-course pizza meal, and wrap the evening up with more ice cream and then some potato chips, I don’t see why we can’t.”

“Are you planning on having any of that with a side of pickles?” Evie teased.

I crinkled up my face in a grimace. “Ew, no.”

I didn’t like pickles, and it seemed to be everyone’s favorite joke to ask me if I was suddenly having weird cravings for anything with pickles. Were pregnant women supposed to like pickles? I didn’t understand it, and I wasn’t having any weird cravings. I didn’t consider having a banana split as being particularlystrange and unusual. It seemed more like the kind of thing one would eat for a celebration. And in this case, as a distraction.

Evie was trying to keep my mind away from thinking anything about Miles, which was hard. I thought about him entirely too often, only I didn’t admit that to her. Evie knew about the harder days when I didn’t know if my resolve would hold firm. I needed her to help to keep my mind occupied and not think self-destructive thoughts of calling him.

I still couldn’t get that image of the last time I saw Miles out of my mind. He had been so angry with me, and I absolutely hated that I thought I hated him at that moment.

I didn’t know if I hated Miles. I didn’t know if I could. I just knew that I couldn’t be with someone like him. He had lied so effectively. He had hidden who he really was and was planning on cheating me out of my home. Even knowing all of that, I missed him.

30

MILES

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