Page 116 of The Art of Being Merry
“Maybe you could start working on that for us,” Dad chimes in.
“Yeah, sure.” I’ll add it to my overflowing list. Find a house for Mom and Dad.
“There’s no real rush. We want to be there before next Christmas so we can experience a true Winterberry Junction holiday for ourselves.”
The more they talk about it, the more it feels right. Because I’ve missed them, and this year has been hard without their support. They have their faults, but at the end of the day, I love them.
“This is exciting. Willa’s gonna flip.”
Mom’s face pales. “Don’t tell her.”
“I won’t. Promise.”
“Let me call her right now. Not that we don’t trust you.”
I smile. “Sure, I get it. But wait.” I close my eyes and put my fingers on my temple. “Too late. Just sent her a message on the twin wires, but I told her to act surprised.”
“Oh Clementine. We’ve missed you.” Mom’s tone is wistful, the kind only time and distance apart can produce.
“Missed you guys, too. It’ll be good to be back in the same state again. Be sure to add winter gear to your list to buy. You’re gonna need it.”
Mom shudders thinking about the cold. This should be quite interesting. “Love to you all. We need to call Willa.” The call ends without my chance to respond.
“That’s quite a surprise,” Dax states when I put the phone down.
“Uh, yeah. Soon as Willa’s off the phone, she’ll be calling. Or she’ll show up.”
“What time are the boys going to their house for the sleepover?”
“Five.”
“And then we’ll have an adult celebration?” The idea lights him up brighter than the boys opening their gifts.
“Yep. You can have your wicked way with me all night long, Mr. Nicholas, including unwrapping your favorite package.” I wave my hand over myself. In case he was confused.
“Best. Christmas. Present. Ever.” He wants to kiss me, but he refrains, respectful of my decision regarding the boys.
“Dax.” Atlas stands in front of him, a serious expression on his face.
“Yeah, Ace?”
“Do you like Mama?”
Oh jeez. I thought we had skirted this discussion.
“Of course. What’s not to like about her? She’s one of my good friends.”
“Do you like her like Uncle Beckett likes Aunt Willa?” He presses his mouth in a thin line.
I choke on the lump in my throat. This can’t lead anywhere good.
“Uncle Beckett and Aunt Willa are married,” I point out, much to the chagrin of my son, who doesn’t like that I’ve interrupted his conversation with Dax.
“Exactly my point,” Atlas snaps. I should probably correct his behavior, but I’m too invested in where this will go. Also, too nervous about what Dax will say.
“I like your mama a lot,” Dax remarks.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Jace muses. Thank goodness I’m not drinking anything. I’d be choking.
