Page 17 of Jingle Bell Jilt
“I wasn’t implying.” He looks serious, but then his lips start to twitch.
“Oh, it’s on like Donkey Kong.” I stand up and jam the twenty back into my wallet.
“Nice pop culture reference.” He picks up a towel and drops it on the floor between us. “It’s a throwdown.”
I laugh. “I’m glad you explained that because I wouldn’t have known what that meant.”
He just shrugs.
“When are they coming to start on the cleanup?” My big plans come to a screeching halt. Although, I’m not sure why it matters. It’s not like we have to go shopping together, right?
“They already have. That’s where I went while you were canceling your reservations.” He opens the door under the stairs and grabs an empty paper box. “Here. We can use this to bring your stuff over.”
I pause. “Do you have enough room in your fridge and freezer?”
He waves my concern away. “How much could you have bought?”
My face heats as I go through the groceries in my head.
He heads to the door. “Come on, let’s get this over with so I can win this contest.”
I hurry to catch up with him. “I should probably explain my mental state when I was at the grocery store,” I babble as we walk through the already open door of the townhouse I had spent the night in. There’s a loud sound of high-powered vacuums somewhere in the house and cords running through the front door and up the stairs.
He looks over and I continue to ramble. “I wasn’t in a good place emotionally. So…” I trail off as he opens the freezer. Ten cartons of Haagen-Dazs and Ben and Jerry’s ice cream are haphazardly thrown inside. He looks over at me again. I’m pretty sure this won’t be the last time he does this. The fridge isn’t any better.
“There are like a dozen cartons in here,” he says.
“Actually, there are only ten. I already ate two of them last night.” I raise my chin so he doesn’t realize how much I’m dying inside that I just admitted that.
He pulls the cartons out without another word and stacks them neatly into the box on the counter.
He goes to open the fridge and I put my hand on the handle. “I had just been left at the altar. Please keep that in mind.” I’m struck for a moment at how easily that rolls off my tongue. It doesn’t feel like it only happened…two days ago?
He frowns. “Left at the altar?”
I nod as I stare at my hands. Why had I blurted that? It makes me sound pitiful. And when you add in all the ice cream and what he’s about to find in the fridge—it’s not the vibe I’m going for.
He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes as he pulls open the door. A stack of assorted candy bars—Symphony, Hershey, Toblerone occupies the top shelf. There are also bags of Hershey Kisses and Nuggets, Snickers bars (because they satisfy, okay?), and Reese’s Peanut Butter cups. Where’s a random sinkhole when you need one? But hey, in my defense, there’s also a small carton of milk, a dozen eggs, a package of deli ham, and some yogurt.
He packs everything neatly into the box and smiles at me. “I get it. You don’t need to be embarrassed. I’m pretty sure I’ve emotionally shopped before.” I’ve never felt more seen than I did right then. While he may not truly understand what I’m thinking or feeling, for the first time in two days, I don’t feel judged. I don’t feel as if everyone is wondering what I did to drive Nathan away. If I’m being honest, I’ve wondered that myself.
I grab the grocery bags off the counter. I see him glance at them—packed with an assortment of chips and cookies. Oh. My. Heck. I don’t remember putting all this stuff in my cart. Is there such a thing as sleep grocery shopping? Or maybe grief shopping is a better word. Whatever it’s called, that’s definitely what happened.
He looks over at me and I want to hide my face. But then I realize he’s just smiling. He isn’t grinning as if he thinks something is funny. He’s smiling sweetly as if he knows this is hard for me and he doesn’t want to make it any harder. I swallow the urge to throw my arms around his neck and thank him.
“Is that all?” He asks, as if we haven’t just loaded the entire frozen dessert and snack food aisles of the store into our arms.
I nod. “I think it’s enough.” I grimace and lift the bag. “I totally don’t even remember buying half of this stuff.”
“It’s the break-up haze. People really shouldn’t be allowed to shop on their own for the first seventy-two hours post break up.” He lifts the box. “I don’t hold you responsible for this.” He waggles his brows. “But I will gladly take it as my prize when I win the contest.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
EVAN
We pull into the parking lot of the nearby strip mall. There’s a grocery store at the other end and a line of small shops in front and back of us. Shay pulls into a spot, parking her car in the middle of the two nose-to-nose spaces.
“Uh, I think you’re taking up two spaces.” I open my car door and look down at the white dividing strip underneath me.
