Page 92 of The Christmas Fix
“What exactly did he say again?” Paige asked, guzzling a coffee and staring at Cat. They were huddled together over the playback monitor under a tent that offered zero protection from the icy fingers of winter that danced down Mistletoe Avenue.
She looked confused, which is not where Cat wanted Paige to be. She wanted her firmly in her camp, irate at the insinuation that had been so natural to Noah it had flown over his head.
“It wasn’t necessarily what he said. It was thewayhe said it. As if Sara knowing he was having sex with me would be worse than nuclear war. He was implying that I’m a slut.”
Her sister-in-law raised a finger, and Cat knew she wouldn’t like the words that would follow. “Let’s examine that,” Paige said.
“Stop being documentary director Paige, and be best friend Paige,” Cat ordered.
“First of all, if Noah said or did anything to hurt you, I’m first in line with the baseball bat for the Noah piñata.”
“Thank you,” Cat said, raising her hands to the sky.
“Now, once that the figurative Noah bashing is over, let’s look at his reaction from his side.”
Cat rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Don’t get defensive,” Paige told her. “Noah’s a single dad with a twelve-year-old girl. Do you remember what you were like at twelve?”
Cat shrugged. “Awesome.”
“Of course, you were. You were what? Playing baseball? Following your grandfather around job sites?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Great. What about thirteen and fourteen?”
Cat couldn’t stop the nostalgic grin. “Boys. I discovered boys.”
“Aha!” Paige was triumphant. “And how many good decisions did you make at that age?”
Cat wrinkled her nose remembering the incredibly stupid make out sessions, the desperate love notes, the heady delight of a new crush. “Pass.”
“I figured,” Paige grinned. “As a mother of a new human being, I’m dreading those years. Your body is coming of age, but your brain is light years behind. You don’t understand consequences. You aren’t capable of predicting the outcomes of your decisions. Parents spend those years trying to prevent you from making any kind of decision that could have life-altering complications.”
Cat slumped in her parka. She hated when Paige made sense.
“Now, you, my beautiful, talented, smart, hard-working sister-in-law, make choices that fit your life. You enjoy a healthy and safe sex life that doesn’t require the boundaries of marriage. You have your healthy, safe sex with single men who respect you and vice versa. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, and anyone who tries to shame you for it is jealous. But the difference is, you’re thirty-two. Not twelve.”
“I have the ability to pick the right partners because my hormones aren’t careening around in my head begging me to do really stupid things.” Cat kicked at a rock.
“Exactly. Sara’s a smart kid, but she’s about to be ahormonalsmart kid, and parents will do whatever it takes to keep those hormones away from decisions. Religion, scare tactics, shaming. And maybe it’s not the best way,” Paige shrugged. “But when you’re in charge of keeping another human being alive and on track, you do what you have to do.”
“What are you and Gan going to do when Gabby hits the teenage years?” Cat asked, a half-smile at the thought of her brother with a teenage daughter.
“Move to an uninhabited island?” Paige joked.
“Ha. But seriously?” Paige was a fierce feminist, and there was no way she didn’t have a color-coded binder with life lessons according to developmental stage.
“I want Gabby to grow up knowing what she does with her body is ultimately her choice, and I want her to make smart choices and have the unalienable right to say no.”
“So, you have no idea,” Cat supplied.
“None at all. I’m hoping to keep her a toddler for the next decade until I can figure it out.”
Cat laughed and bumped Paige’s shoulder. “You and Gannon will be just fine.”
“And you and Noah could be more than fine if you let it happen,” Paige said pointedly.
