Page 1 of A Different Kind Of December
“T
his needs to stop, G.”
“I know.”
“It’s been seventeen years, and I know it’s hard—believe me, I know just how hard it is. But it’s time to let it go, baby.”
“I can’t. I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can. You’re so much stronger than you think you are. So much stronger than I would’ve been had the tables been turned. You’re missing out on so much of what you have here. Life is for the living, G, and yours is beautiful. What you’ve built, what you’ve achieved? I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“You don’t mind...I mean...do you care? Does it bother you?”
“Of course it does. Of course I wish it was you and me and our kids, but that isn’t the way it worked out for us. I’m just so glad that you’re happy, that your life is full, and you’ve got a man that loves you exactly the way that I do, except he’s a bit more of a control freak where you’re concerned. You’ve got us both wrapped around your little fucking finger.”
“He’s a good man.”
“He loves you; that’s all I care about.”
“What does that mean? What d’ya know? Is he not a good man?”
“G, calm the fuck down. I didn’t mean anything other than he could be the patron saint of husbands and it wouldn’t matter to me if he didn’t treat you right. But he does. Youandthe kids. He makes me sick he’s so fucking perfect.”
“He isn’t perfect. He leaves wet towels on the bed and whiskers in the sink, and he doesn’t always flush.”
“Are you being serious right now? He doesn’t flush in case it wakesyouup, and you are the messiest person I know, so don’t even go there with wet towels on the bed. You’re a total slob when you wanna be and then completely anal about everything being spotless when you don’t… especially when your mother’s coming over.”
“I love that you still know me so well.”
“Always, G. Always.”
“You’re gonna go, I can feel it.”
“I can’t help it, babe, I have to. I just want...just try to have a good day today. Let go of the guilt. Do your Christmas thing, but let your people love you. Your kid's worry. Your husband worries, and the Looney Tunes you call family worry.”
“I’ll try.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Good girl. I love you, Georgia Rae.”
“I love you, too. Kiss Beau and baby M for me, and tell them I love them.”
“They know, G. They know.”
I sit up straight, myeyes wide as they attempt to take in my surroundings. The room’s dark, but I can hear at least one bird singing outside.
Cam still sleeps soundly beside me, but it’s Sean’s lips that I can feel on mine. I brush my fingers over them and breathe in deeply.
I both love and hate moments like this. They make me feel completely torn.
I stare down at my husband. His arms are stretched out above his head, disappearing under the pillow that his head rests on.
At my request, he’s been growing his hair since last summer. He’s had it trimmed a couple of times, but at the moment, it’s the perfect length. It curls where it reaches his collar, and the front is long. Though he usually pushes it back, right now it’s partly hanging in his face. I want to reach out and run my fingers through it and then rake my nails over the beard covering his cheeks and chin. It’s a gorgeous silver-grey and has become one of my favourite things about him.
One of an endless list.
