Page 57 of What Happens This Christmas
“What are you doing?” I asked, wondering if that fall did serious damage to my head since I obviously had no idea what was going on anymore. Honestly, it made me pause and wonder if maybe Candy was hit in the head too, and I just didn’t know it.
Her expression the picture of cool amusement, she narrowed her eyes and threw the snowball she held in her hands at me.All right. Throwing a snowball. Did we go back in time?“You ruined the lovely evening I had planned,” she said, making me do a double take. I ruined the—
No, no, no. I didn’t think so. The gingerbread ruined the evening. And that wasn’t even the most ridiculous thing. I didn’t even know how to respond to my wife, who had thrown a snowball at me. “Wh—”
Readying another snowball, she narrowed her lips. I could practically feel the heat emanating from her. Too bad it wasn’t enough to melt the snow she packed so tightly in her hands. She was upset, and for no reason at all. We’d seen this production before. I was sure she’d see it again. Who gave a crap? Pelted with another snowball, she declared, “You just have to ruin everything, don’t you?”
I threw my hands up in the air. That was enough. I was the one who had been hit over the head and unconscious. I had a knot on the back of my head from hitting the ground after being knocked in the forehead from a figurine that had no business being that large. I mean, damn it, size was important. It neededto be considered for things like that. Especially when idiots decided it was a good idea to walk around with them in crowds of people over their shoulder, swinging them around.
Before I knew it, another snowball hit me square in the chest. Who knew Candy could’ve played softball? “You couldn’t just let me have this?”
Another snowball went flying. What did she have, a stash over there now?
“It’s Nick’s Christmas.”
A snowball hit my arm and promptly broke apart.
“You and your mother’s Christmas, apparently.”
Another snowball went flying.
“You want a divorce, fine, but I asked for one thing. Tonight was important to me. It was special.” She held up another snowball, grunting as she looked up. “And you had to go and get clocked by a gingerbread man.”
She took another perfect shot, hitting me with what appeared to be the final snowball she had in her arsenal.
Seeing that as my opportunity to finally get close to her, I walked over and put my hands up, ready to grip her by her arms and shake her until she came to her senses. Because whatever was going on, this wasn’t Candy. Although, I had to say that I didn’t hate that, for the first time, she was finally having some sort of reaction to something. “Do you hear yourself? I was the one who got hit with that stupid giant decoration. And now you’re throwing snowballs at me. I didn’t set out to ruin anything. What the hell is this, attack Nick night?”
She shrugged out of my grasp. “Sorry.” Then she pulled her coat tight against her body and turned her head, looking away from me. “It’s all right. Maybe this was good fortune.” I didn’t see how that was the case. “Now we can go home and get a good night’s rest for the gala tomorrow night.”
Oh, just fucking jolly. Another night out. Hopefully, Candy wouldn’t be planning on practicing her throwing arm again.
Chapter 26
visions of sugarplums
Candy
Alone for the first time all day, I sat down in my dressing room and looked at my reflection in the mirror.
It had taken hours and the hands of both my skilled hair stylist and makeup artist, but there was no evidence of the tired woman who had stared back at me earlier.
Now all I had to do was finish adding my jewelry and step into my beautiful gown so Nick could zip me up, and we would be able to leave for the annual Christmas gala. It wasn’t just any gala, either. This particular one was hosted by good friends to raise money for a cause that was near and dear to our hearts. It was not only an important event for us to attend socially, but it was an important event for our community. An important event for us.
All eyes would be on us, as they always were. Reporters would be there, sniffing out troubled marriages, hidden skeletons and dead bodies so to speak, and anything else that was juicy enough for them to run an article on. Up-and-coming reporters would see it for what it was—an opportunity to get their name out there like they were the celebrities. It wouldn’t be true, of course. It was always the same,theywere always the same predictable money-hungry and debatably career-driven people.
Just like with everything else, it was growing old, like the way everyone managed to pretend everything was jolly likeOld Saint Nick around the holidays. But only for the holidays, because come the new year, that’d be over. Nothing would’ve truly changed. Unhappy people would once again be unhappy. Selfish…selfish. Heinous and ugly…all the same. No one would change their stripes.
I straightened and pushed back my shoulders. Some days I didn’t even recognize myself, and it was a hard truth that came barreling through like a tornado. Except I was the only one with the power to control the storm. And I had, every single time, because what else was I to do?
I had obligations.
I was Mrs. Nick Crane, and it was up to me to do what I deemed necessary to get through the days, the events, the gossip.
I’d buried my feelings down, so far down, and it was only recently they had reared their ugly head, threatening to destroy everything we had built. This penthouse, this life didn’t come without its price, and I’d have sold my soul for Nick. In some ways, I felt I had. These were thoughts I tried to never think.
In any event, it was time to move on and move out. The gala wasn’t going to wait for us, and the last thing we needed was to arrive tardy. We weren’t those people. We couldn’t afford to be those people.
Plus, this event was one Nick actually looked forward to every year. That made it even more meaningful as there wasn’t much we did that he appreciated.
