Page 38 of Acting Merry
Her eyes widen. “Oh my gosh! I’m so so–”
“Realx, Reese’s Pieces. I’m kidding. You don’t snore.”
She tosses a pillow at me.
“You ready for another day with me?” I ask.
“No.”
My heart jolts.
“Not like this,” she clarifies. “I need to brush my teeth and fix this mess”—she glides her hands along her hair—“before I’m ready for anything.” She looks at me. “Please tell me you didn’t wake up looking like that.”
I chuckle. “I may have snuck into the bathroom for a few minutes.”
She lets out a breath of relief and heads there herself.
I make her bed while she’s in there. I’ve just set the reindeer in front of the decorative pillows as the door opens and she re-emerges.
She clocks the stuffed animal right away. “He was supposed to be yours.”
“Hername is Biscuit,” I correct. “And it’s your turn tonight.”
“It’s a boy. It has antlers.”
“Female reindeer have antlers.”
“Do they really?” Her head tips to the side in a way I find completely adorable.
“Absolutely,” I say, like this is common knowledge andnot something I learned on the back of a box of Christmas Crunch last week. “Don’t beat yourself up for not knowing. Your boyfriend is super smart. You haven’t really appreciated him properly.”
Her mouth pulls into a big smile. “I think you’re probably right about that. Should we go get some breakfast?” She looks down. “Yesterhair, yesterclothes. It’s likeGroundhog Day.”
“Do they have laundry machines? I’ve got spare clothes in the trunk of my car. We could wear them while these wash.”
“Do you also keep a handful of passports and a wad of cash in your car?”
“I don’t have a passport, and I hate cash, so it’s just the clothes—and a bunch of tools. I get dirty at work all the time, so I keep clean stuff handy.”
She walks past me, pinching my cheek en route. “My boyfriend’s such a Boy Scout.”
I almost say “fake boyfriend,” but that feels a bit the-man-doth-protest-too-much. “Want me to grab the clothes?”
“Maybe after breakfast?” she suggests. “I smell pancakes.”
We head to the kitchen, where Megan and Brady are working on breakfast alongside Hannah and Tyler.
I glance at Reese, who’s noticed them and takes in a big, silent breath.
I grab her hand, and she looks at me.
I wink at her and lead her down the stairs.
We say good morning and help get the pancakes and bacon cooked, the fruit washed and cut, and the syrup warmed. Half an hour later, Tess and Dylan join the ranks, and we all sit down.
“How was the couch?” Dylan asks Brady, grabbing a fistful of bacon.
Brady shrugs. “My back didn’t love it.”
