Page 110 of The Art of Being Merry
“I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t say no to him in front of the kids, not when they wanted to go with him.”
“You did the right thing.” Hell if I know that’s true, but when her head bobs an inch, it’s confirmed. “What can I do? How can I help?”
A sad smile eclipses her mouth. “This.” She motions between us. “You’re doing it.”
“This doesn’t feel like much,” I mutter. There’s got to be something else I can do. Punch something. Slash his tires. Put him back on a plane to North Carolina.
Her pupils dilate, the emerald ring around them shrinking. “Are you kidding? This is everything, Dax. You being here for me, letting me get my emotions out, following my lead when I’m sure you wanted to punch him. For the record, had he said anything stupid, I would have let you.” She chuckles, and it’s the best sound. A bit of the tension and the fury invading her cells melts away. “What time is it?”
“Three-thirty, four maybe. Why?”
“Four hours before the boys come home. This mama needs a few drinks and—” She stops herself with a hand over her mouth.
Lucky for her, I know exactly what she’s going to say. “Heidi, we may be a little late to dinner. Put a plate aside for us, would ya?”
My sister has fire in her eyes. “First, you invite yourself to crash my and Beck’s Christmas Eve tradition, and now you’re not even going to be here? Rude.”
Clementine steps out of my arms. “It’s my fault. Well, my ex’s for showing up here. But I’m not good company right now, and Dax is the only person who can fix it.”
“How?” She must be dense to ask the question.
“I don’t think you want that question answered,” Willa supplies.
“Oh.Oh,” she repeats, the light bulb going off. “Got it now. Blame the pregnancy hormones. They’re more brutal this time.”
“Again, Heidi?” Lenny complains at realizing the secret she divulged.
“Ah, fuck.” She slaps her hand across her forehead. “It’s not my fault.”
“Congrats.” Clementine’s the first one to offer her congratulations, stepping into a hug with my sister. “Can’t say I blame you. Those fetuses suck the life outta you.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
Willa, Beck, and I all offer similar messages of congrats, and then Clementine and I prepare to take off. She grabs all her stuff from inside, and we head out to her van since my truck isn’t here. She hands over her keys, and I ask, “Your place or mine?”
“Yours is quicker, but we’ll have more time at mine.”
“Yours it is.”
She was so desperate for release, we didn’t make it past her couch. We also didn’t bother getting completely undressed.
A handful of orgasms later, I pour Clementine’s favorite holiday ale into a cup. She’s already had one, but she’s adamant she can handle another. I’ll reassess her state after this one. She’ll be pissed at herself if she’s even the tiniest bit drunk for the discussion with her ex.
I set the cup on the table next to the couch and sit down. “I still can’t believe he showed up here out of the blue. What’s his angle?”
A long, drawn-out sigh tumbles out of her. “I wish I knew. He mentioned something about an email from his lawyer for a new agreement or something. I don’t want to ruin this holiday reading it, but I suppose it's already ruined, so I might as well.” Instead of getting up for her phone, she crawls over to me, straddling my lap. She runs her hands over my pecs, and I wince, the pain still fresh. “What happened?”
“You.” Maybe it’s not exactly the right answer, especially the way her expression shifts to confusion, but it’s my truth.
She happened, forever changing my life.
“Me? What did I do?” she asks.
I should explain before I become the object of her fury and anger.
I slip my arm out of the sleeve of the shirt I’m wearing, moving the fabric so I can show her. Well, it’s covered up, but she’ll get the gist once I explain.
“You got a new tattoo?” she wonders, a smile on her face. “When did you get it done? Can I see it?”
