Page 91 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

“Are you in a man’s bed?”

So perceptive.

“Hello to you too, Mother.”

“Hi honey,” she backtracked, her lips twisting into a grin. “I feel like I haven’t seen your face in months. It’s lonely here without you.”

“Is it?” I blushed, tugging at a loose strand of my ponytail. It was comforting to hear her say that.

“Like a piece is missing,” she told me. “We have to figure something different out next year, something better for all of us.”

“Has it been hell getting everything ready for Christmas?” I picked absentmindedly at the dark thread of Frankie’s comforter.

“You know Gavin, doesn’t want to wait another minute for the gifts. But Laila’s still on the Santa train, so it’s been a nightmare keeping him out of the basement storage for the last week.”

“You should have left everything at my place.” I laughed. “That’s what Dad does.”

“Smart man. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I’m sure it was Amy who thought of it, but she would never ask me herself.”

“She’s a shy one.” My mom giggled. “Anyway, tell me what’s happening in Florida. It’s been snowing for a week here.”

“Natalia is practically engaged, can you believe it?”

“Naturally.” She shrugged. “A good guy?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty great. Perfect for her. They’re so in love it’s disgusting.” I said. “We’re at his house now, and I’m hiding out in his roommate's bedroom.”

My mom's eyebrows danced provocatively. “Nice of him to let you get so comfortable.”

“You’re prying without prying.”

“I just think it’s nice. You’re practically snuggling with his pillows. Must be an accommodating host.”

“Maybe he is.” I stuck my tongue out.

“Fine, I won’t pry.”

I bit my lip, but it was useless pretending I didn’t want to talk about Frankie. The praise was nearly dripping off my tongue. “He’s ex-military.” I covered my mouth. “A pilot.”

Her face lit up and she got closer to the camera, trying to inhale the details through the screen. “Handsome?”

“Irritatingly.”

“Caring?”

“Emotionally and physically.”

She gasped. “Don’t fall in love in Florida, Ophelia. I need my daughter back.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I hid my face in the pillow and inhaled the subject of discussion’s galvanizing scent. “We’re just having fun. God knows I need a break from husband hunting.”

“Make him crazy then,” she said. “Throw out the sails, have a tête-à-tête. Everyone deserves a torrid love affair at least once and there’s no aphrodisiac like a ticking clock.”

“Mom!” My body vibrated with laughter. “If Josh could hear you now,” I teased. “His wife, the harlot.”

She shifted the camera and I caught a glimpse of my stepfather sitting on the leather recliner to her side reading a book. His attention hardly waned from the page, but he wore an amused smirk.

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