Page 27 of Regret Me Not
Hal laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. “Apparently that’s all of adulthood.”
“Yeah, well, adulthood has some surprisingly awesome moments, so don’t knock it,” Pierce snapped, trying hard not to be heartbroken. He stalked through decorations a little faster, wanting to get to the kids’ department before the weariness in his legs became a problem.
Hal caught up with him easily and placed his hand on the back of Pierce’s elbow. Normally Pierce didn’t need this unless he was using his cane, and right before he shook off the hand, he recognized it for what it truly was:
A peace offering.
“Some dinner after we get the presents and get out of here?” Hal offered as a treaty.
“Sure. What do you want for Christmas, though?”
“I already told you—a teddy bear!”
Pierce grimaced. “Oh, dammit! Speaking of things in the kids’ department—”
Hal smacked his forehead with his palm. “Yeah. You have short people to spoil. Where to, hoss?”
God, Target was huge. Past the linens and a rockin’ discussion of whether it was okay to have lavender-scented dreams when you slept on purple sheets, and on through towels, with more arguments about whether pretty patterned towels meant someone was douchey—Hal said yes—or just Californian—Pierce was on that boat.
Finally, just before Hal came to the conclusion that all Californians were inevitably douchey—which Pierce would have argued against to the death—they found the toy department.
And Nirvana.
“Oh. My. God.” Hal swung around the Lego shelves like Julie Andrews did a helicopter twirl on a mountain in the alps. “Legos? Seriously? This is what Legos look like these days?”
Pierce looked around, comforted by the fact that he was pretty sure Darius only had about half these sets. “What? You never got Legos as a kid?”
He got a scowl in return. “My cutoff date for Legos was twelve. Some asshole put a little number on the box that said they were good from eight to twelve, so my dad the judge and mom the helicopter parent started getting me foreign language lessons and science camp memberships after that.”
“You know, you’re not making a case for money making a good parent,” Pierce said, truly dismayed. “Do youseethe Millennium Falcon? That thing’s good ’til you’re sixteen!”
Hal smirked at him. “How old were you?”
“Well, Sasha and Marshall gave it to me three years ago—remember that study I’m crazy about? It’s got a Lego Millennium Falcon in a glass case on the shelf. Took Derrick and me three days, but man, it was worth it.”
“So, what? You and your sister just swap Lego sets?” Hal picked up a giant Lego Batman scenario that cost a hundred dollars easy.
“You forget,” Pierce said patiently. “My parents were douchebags too. So basically, allwegot for Christmas was Sunday school clothes and Bible study coloring books—”
“Yuck!”
“I’m saying. We got older, and it was mostly wooden chess sets for me and sewing kits for Sasha. So when I was twelve, and we could walk to the store together, we would save our allowance and buy eachothergifts. She always bought me Legos, because—dude? Can you see?”
“I’m sold,” Hal said seriously, grabbing a big bucket of assorted parts and looking at it with lust in his eyes.
“Well, I would buy her Barbies. And now that Abigail is, like, four years old, I promised Sasha I’d keep that kid eyeballs-deep in Barbie dolls and Monster High and whatever else is current and pink and awesome.” Pierce gestured grandly. “If she wants Legos, I’ll get them. Pink Legos? I’m on it. Those kids are getting more toys than they know what to do with—Sasha and I made a pact.”
“Word,” Hal said, nodding like he was now the choir and Pierce could preach. “But, about this bucket of Legos—don’t you think we could make an awesome Christmas tree with this?”
“Put it in,” Pierce said, liking this plan. “And grab the giantGuardians of the Galaxyone behind you.” He grinned, feeling magnanimous and evil. “And go find two teddy bears—one for you and one for Sasha.”
“Wait—I thought you were getting your sister a Keurig?” Hal asked suspiciously.
Pierce remembered his sister as a child, all big brown eyes and dark hair, pale and afraid of pissing off Mom and Dad. “A coffee maker to wake up her inner adult,” he said with dignity, “and a teddy bear to comfort her inner child.”
Hal grinned. “Okay—you look at Barbies, and I’ll go cruise stuffed animals. Meet back in five.”
Pierce thought about family planning and wondered if he could sneak lubricant and condoms into the cart and get back in time to find Abigail’s present. He cursed his range of motion, because he knew he wouldn’t make it, and being… overt about it might just frighten Hal off.
