Page 45 of Jingle Bell Jilt
I clear my throat. “Oh, yeah? Well, don’t come crying to me when you have an ugly sweater contest at work, and you don’t have it anymore. Because I think we’ve already established that sweater will win every contest.”
He glances back over his shoulder at me. “I will never have an ugly sweater contest at work.”
“How do you know? Just because you haven’t had one yet doesn’t mean you won’t ever have one.”
He walks slowly down the hall, stopping just inches from me. “Because I’m the boss at my company and anyone who even suggests an ugly sweater contest will be fired on the spot.” He taps me on the end of the nose with his finger. Any romantic feelings I’m having flee like the people onJurassic Worldwhen the pterodactyls and the T-Rex invade the gift shop. There’s nothing less romantic than a tap on the nose.
I don’t have any response to that. I didn’t know he owned his own company. I wonder what kind of company it is. Or does owning these two rentals constitute a business? He probably LLC-ed like I did with my author business for tax purposes.
“I’m going to bed. I have an early morning at Disney World tomorrow.” I lift my chin to show my defiance of his choice to burn a perfectly terrible Christmas sweater.
“Yeah, I have to meet with the disaster clean-up people in the morning and figure out the game plan.”
My shoulders droop. “Oh, yeah. I’d kind of forgotten about that. Sorry you have to deal with it.” I’d kind of hoped that he’d come to Disney with me. I mean, he can pass as a Nathan, right?
He walks back and stands in front of me. “It wasn’t your fault. Please, stop apologizing.”
I just stand there nodding, not sure if I should just turn around and head to my room or give him a hug. A hug? Who is he, my grandpa? That seems weird, so I’m not going to do it. “Alright then. Thanks again for a great day.” This feels so much like the ending of a first date. Or at least a first date with the person you’re living with? Okay, so this feels nothing like anything I’ve ever experienced.
“Have fun at Disney,” he says as he turns away.
It was a good call on the hug. Or the not hug. It would’ve definitely made things weird.
I nod and trudge up the stairs to my room, shutting the door behind me. The clock on the nightstand says that it’s nearly midnight, but I have far too much pent-up energy to even think about sleeping.
I grab my phone out of my pocket as I chuck my jacket on my suitcase sitting on a chair in the corner. Hopping into the bed, I peel off my sweater (did I mention the synthetic yarn has rubbed a raw spot on my neck?) and chuck it over by my suitcase. It unballs midair and lands with a thud at the bottom of my bed. The sweater’s not very aerodynamic.
Snuggling up with Big Green and my pillow, I put in my earbuds and pull up Maggie’s number. It’s only 10:30 in Utah, so she should be awake, but the kids should be asleep.
“Shay?”
I nod like an idiot. “Hey, Mags, Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you.” She pauses. “How are you doing?” She says it very softly and slowly, like she’s asking me to give her the gun in my hand.
“I’m doing great.”
She sighs. “It’s because of the guy, right? Or are you just pretending like your mom thinks you are?”
“I’m not pretending. I’m really good. I had a great Christmas. Like, better than I’ve had in years.”
“And you haven’t sent me any pictures?” I hear the accusation in her voice. “And you still haven’t told me the long story about you and the landlord.”
“Are the kids asleep? This may take a while.”
“Yeah, I just put the baby down and Harley zonked out at like seven. She was exhausted after getting up at six.” I can hear the exhaustion in Maggie’s voice.
“Sounds like someone else is a bit sleepy too.”
“Yeah, Dean is ‘resting his eyes,’” I can hear the air-quotes, “on the couch, so I’m all yours.”
I snort laugh. “I wasn’t talking about Dean.”
“I know, I know. Now get on with this story, because you sound way too chipper to be the same girl I put on a plane three days ago.”
“Yeah, about that girl. I don’t think she’s around anymore.”
“Start at the beginning, Shay.” I can picture her settling into her favorite chair in the corner of her bedroom, her soft Minky blanket pulled up around her.
