Page 29 of One Hundred Lights
Britt
I don’t know. Maybe. We should probably talk
Uh oh.
She’s planning a way to cut me out of her life. Maybe even hoping I’ll disappear on my own. But that isn’t going to happen. I know she still has feelings for me. I could see it in her eyes, even though I could also see she’s not going to let herself fall. I’m going to have to think of a way to win her over. Will she try to break things off with me? My insides twist. Probably.
But that just means I have to fight for her.
I move a few feet down the aisle and scan the remaining stockings, most of which have cartoon characters on them. That will not fly with my daughter. I push aside the dogs from Paw Patrol, the crew from Mickey Mouse, and other characters I don’t recognize.
But then I spot it. Like the box of lights in my basket, there’s just one left on the shelf. I grab the red fuzzy stocking and add it to my shopping basket. I got lucky.
Maybe I’ll get lucky with Britt, too.
13
BRITT
Sunday, December 17
Iglance at Jackson in the rearview mirror as we pull away from the Italian restaurant. My parents are leaving for a week to a Caribbean island over Christmas, so we had our celebration with them early.
It would never occur to them to invite me and Jackson to join them on vacation, let alone host us in their house. Or even accept an invitation to share the holiday at ours.
Not that I’ve offered in years.
I wish my brother could’ve joined us today, but he resolutely avoids our parents. Then again, he doesn’t need to try very hard on that front. They spent little time with us growing up, so it’s unsurprising, if not disappointing, that they don’t spend much time with us now.
I was thrilled when Jackson’s friend’s mom texted me this morning, inviting him to their house this afternoon. It was the perfect excuse to have a firm end time for lunch. We didn’t even have dessert.
“You okay, buddy?”
My son doesn’t look up from the fidget spinner in his hands.
“Yup.”
“That was a cool LEGO set they bought you for Christmas, huh? It was a huge one.”
“Yeah, it was fine. I wish they had gotten Minecraft, though. Or Jurassic World. Not the boring City one.”
“Jackson.” My mouth quirks on one side, and I can’t seem to chastise him further for not being thankful for the gift. “Well. We can exchange it if you’d like. They taped the gift receipt on the box. I bet you can find another you like better.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He’s silent for a few minutes. “Were they always so boring?”
I let out a short laugh. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, when you were growing up, what was it like?”
Yeah, boring. I press my lips together and paste a fake smile on my face.
“Well, it was me and your uncle, and a staff of au pairs and nannies.” I chuckle, but there’s no humor in the sound. “Grandma and Grandpa didn’t do a lot with us. They traveled all the time for Grandpa’s work, and Grandma was always busy organizing fundraisers for charities. They didn’t involve us in any of that. So yeah, it was a bit of a quiet house. But I made my own fun.” I steal another peek back at him, still staring out the window.
“I’m gladyou’remore fun,” he states matter-of-factly. “Sometimes I wish there was more going on in our house. Alex has, like, three sisters. Did you know that?”
I sigh and swallow the small lump popping up in my throat. “Yeah, buddy, I know. But would you want to have three sisters messing with all your LEGO sets?” I attempt to insert levity in my voice.
“I mean, whenever I’m there, someone’s fighting or crying or in trouble, so I guess that’s not great.”
