Page 79 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
He nibbled on my neck, moving up to my earlobe with small kisses. “There’s only one thing affecting me right now, Mellie, and that’s you, naked, in my bed. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.”
I struggled to remain coherent. “Jack, please. Listen to me. Maybe you and I should go away for a long weekend—to Palmetto Bluff, maybe. To get away from everything.”
He didn’t lift his head as he continued his attention on every nerve ending in my neck. “We can’t afford to get away, remember?”
I focused on my breathing, wondering if I should try to use the Lamaze techniques I hadn’t had a chance to put into practice when the twins were almost born in the backseat of a minivan.
“Just promise me one thing, Mellie.”
“Mmm?” I mumbled, unable to articulate a coherent word.
“Please don’t think you need to solve all of our problems, all right? When you get it into your head that you and you alone can fix everything, your tendency is to react rashly and independently, and that never turns out well.”
“But...” My words of protest were quickly forgotten as he moved his lips against mine, neatly erasing all thought and worry.
My blissful and oblivious satiation lasted until an hour later, when I was awakened from a deep sleep by the sound of Jack sitting down on the edge of the bed and lacing up his running shoes before closing the door gently behind him. The last thought I had before I fell back asleep was that he hadn’t kissed me good-bye.
•••
“You might find this easier with your glasses on,” Anthony suggested.
I glanced up at him over the top of Jayne’s dining room table. Despitehaving been in the hospital for almost a week and not being able to eat any solid food, he looked surprisingly robust. His coloring seemed healthy and his hair was thick and shiny, the crutches and arm sling gone. Maybe it was a male thing. I remembered what I’d looked like following my hospital stay after giving birth, when I resembled an extra fromThe Walking Deadinstead of a youngish new mother. I would have hated him if he hadn’t been so affable.
I sighed, then reached inside my purse under my chair for my glasses. “I’m just not in the habit of wearing them.”
Anthony nodded sympathetically. “So they’re new?”
I considered lying, then changed my mind. It was stupid, really. “No. I’ve had them for a couple of years. I just haven’t gotten in the habit of wearing them.”
He smiled. “Well, for the record, I think you look just as beautiful with them on as you do without them. Just in case you were wondering. And you don’t look like Jayne’s older sister at all—more like her twin. But I suppose with a mother like Ginette Prioleau, it’s in the genes.”
There it was again, that little pang in my gut at the mention of Jayne. We’d just had a lovely tea party with the twins in the garden, taking turns pushing JJ and Sarah in the new double swing. I’d enjoyed being with her and loved the relationship my sister had with my children. It was clear she loved them, and the sentiment was returned twofold. But the ball of resentment lodged in my stomach wouldn’t budge. Obviously, I was the worst person in the world.
I forced myself to smile. “If I didn’t know any better, Anthony, I could swear you were buttering me up for something.”
“Ha—got me,” he said, standing up with one of the brick pictures and bringing it to my side of the table. “I want you to say nice things about me to your sister.”
“I do that anyway.”
He met my eyes for a moment. “Yeah, well, Jayne and I are just friends. I’m hoping we can move beyond the friend zone.”
“Ah. Have you mentioned this to her?” I picked up a photographand leaned over the table, holding it next to other photos to see if it matched.
“No. I can be pretty shy around women.” A slight blush tinged his cheeks. “Marc was always the one who got the girls when we were growing up. Or maybe he just bullied me enough that I wouldn’t go after the girls he wanted. And if I had a girlfriend he found interesting, he usually ended up dating her.”
“Sounds like a wonderful big brother.”
“You think? He certainly had the potential. He’s always had the kind of personality that makes people do what he tells them to.”
There was an odd note in his voice, one that I was beginning to recognize in my own when I talked about Jayne. Something that could be either love or hate. Something unexplainable. “Even now?”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes unable to meet mine. “Well, we don’t speak anymore, remember? It’s easier without him in my life.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it. Despite all my weirdness where Jayne was concerned, I couldn’t imagine my life without her now.
He waved his hand dismissively. “Nah—don’t be. Maybe when we’re old men we’ll reconcile enough to be chess partners in the same nursing home. Who knows?”
Before I could say anything else, he yelled, “Bingo! Got one.” He slid one of the photos up next to another three, making it a perfect match on the top, bottom, and one side.
