Page 101 of Kiss the Girl
“Tab.”
“You’re stuck with me for another forty-five minutes, and I refuse to talk about anything else until we cover this ground.”
I ignored her and stabbed on the radio. Christmas music filled the car. “Feliz Navidad,” I sang with Jose Feliciano. “FELIZ NAVIDAD PROSPERO AÑO Y FELICIDAD.” I shout-sang with Señor Feliciano for two more minutes.
The next song was Mariah Carey. When she got to the part about wanting only one thing for Christmas, Tabitha turned it off and pronounced, “Noah.”
“You want Noah for Christmas? You’ve only spent one afternoon with him, but I can see if he’d be into it.”
She punched my arm. “Allyouwant for Christmas is Noah. Don’t try to deny it.”
I reached for the radio again, but she batted my hand away.
“Just admit you like him.”
“That’s not headline news, Tab. Of course I like him.”
“A lot?” she pressed.
I nodded.
“How much?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really have the words.”
“Wow.” She fell quiet, and I could feel her eyes on me. I ignored her and kept my eyes on the road. “Grace.”
“What.”
“Is the word ‘love’?”
The tears sprang to my eyes before I could stop them this time.
“Oh, Grace.” Her voice was full of understanding and compassion that I couldn’t take right now, or I’d come undone completely.
“Yeah, that’s the word.” Her sympathy was warranted.
“So tell him.”
I drew a deep breath to steady my voice. “I asked him to move to Charleston. He said no, and I get it. My life is there, and his is here. If I moved back permanently, I’d resent him over the long run, and I won’t do the same to him.”
“Also, Mom would kill you.”
“Also that.” I watched the road for a bit. “Paige and Evie need him. It sucks, but the situation is what it is.”
“What does that even mean? ‘It is what it is.’ I never understood that phrase.”
“It means this was shaping up to be another crappy Christmas, but picking up a puppy makes it feel better. It means I’m going to find my Christmas spirit by tomorrow. Maybe Santa will leave it under the tree for me. Then I’ll give Mom enough time to fall in love with Coal and then I can break the news that I’m leaving in a few days.” I sighed. “Why does she push me so hard to leave when she’s going to bawl like a baby when I do?”
“Hold on, back up,” she said. “Cole? Like your eighth-grade boyfriend?”
“No, c-o-a-l, like what Santa leaves under the tree at Christmas. What else are you going to call a charcoal gray dog you give on Christmas Day?”
“Ha, ha,” she said.
She dropped the subject of Noah and entertained me with stories from her set until we reached the breeder’s where we were immediately smitten by the poodle puppy Tabitha wouldnotlet me call Coal. He preoccupied us all the way home as he sat in her lap, and she cooed over every single puppy snuffle and blink.
I kept watch while she snuck him up to my place. Then I played with him for the rest of the afternoon. When my mom texted for me to come down for our Christmas Eve tradition of watchingHoliday Innand drinking cocoa with homemade marshmallows, I pled a headache so I could stay with the puppy in case he started crying and gave himself away before morning.
