Page 85 of Mistletoe Misses
“Yeah.”
“It’s okay not to be, you know?”
“So everyone keeps saying.”
“What can I do? Buy you an ice cream cone, take you to the park, throw a football?”
His mustache tips up at the corners in a smirk. It’s the goofy expression I remember from my childhood and cools a few charred nerves. “I’m not a child,” I say in stubborn protest.
“I’d still do it if it would help.”
Somehow, I feel better knowing that. “Thank you.”
“Where are you off to?”
“Dottie’s on her way back.”
“Oh. You better get Trixie there before she arrives.”
“I know. I’m just not ready to lose her, too.”
“Who else did you lose, son?”
“Doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Alright.” His big hand slaps against my back before vanishing inside his coat pocket while he takes on a no-nonsense fatherly stance beside me. “You’ll be home for dinner tonight, right?”
He wants a promise that I won’t hit the road in my mood, but he won’t get it. “We’ll see.”
On my way back to the truck, a text arrives.
Carmen:I miss you. Join us for dinner tonight?
“One problem at a time,” I say to myself and fling the phone onto the passenger seat.
???
Carmen
“Hi, baby. How was school?” I ask Sadie after work and plop down on the couch next to her. It’s Dad’s turn to close the shop, giving me plenty of time to cook dinner for our get-together … if Maddox ever responds.
She closes her book and crosses her arms. “Where have you been?”
“I had to pick up some inventory in Moyer’s Ridge and scheduled a few gigs while I was there. Did you need something?”
“Sort of.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did. You didn’t answer.”
“Sorry, babe. Service is spotty there, especially in the warehouses. What’s up?” I tuck the strands of hair that had fallen into her face behind an ear. “Why are so sad? Talk to me.”
She pouts, and I’m gearing up to comfort her when she points at me with a wide smile. “Gotcha.”
“Yes, you did. Been practicing your emotional acting, I see.”
“Yep. I need to be ready.”
