Page 31 of The Art of Being Merry
He always takes it one step too far.
“Funny.”
“More like pathetic. Living in the ‘rents’ basement ‘cause you can’t leave the nest. I’m surprised you can get any woman to go out with you. Or is it because you don’t tell them where you live?”
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before—my siblings all like to tease me—but lately, it’s irked me more and more. Which means it’s time to make a move.
Soon-ish.
Maybe look after the holidays.
The thought raises my hackles.
There’s something unsatisfying about leaving, hell if I know why. I don’t plan to live there for the rest of my life. Despite my past, eventually I’d like to think I’ll find a woman and settle down. Maybe have a kid or two, if it’s in the cards for us. If not, definitely a dog or another pet. I don’t want to move several times, though. It’s easier to stay where I am until I’m officially ready to branch out on my own.
At least that’s the story I’m going with.
No one needs the truth. Least of all me.
I roll my eyes before stating, “I’m not going out with a woman.”But you are.“Well, not like that,” I correct. “I’m helping Clementine and the boys get a Christmas tree.”
“Clementine?” Becks asks, shocked. “My sister-in-law?”
“Is there another Clementine in Winterberry Junction I’m unaware of?”
“Probably not. How’d that come about? I didn’t know she needed help. I would have helped her.”
My mind conjures an image of the mischievous Grinch, because that’s what I feel like inside. Not as someone who doesn’t like Christmas so much as the mischief. Because I get to help her, be the hero for once, instead of Beck. And damn, that makes my selfish side delight with joy.
I don’t want to get into the entire story, so I claim, “It just did.”
“Hmm. And she’s okay with you helping?”
“Why wouldn’t she be?” Damn, jumped too fast on that one based on the way he glances at me, his brows raised to his hairline.
He shrugs. “Just that you’re not always dependable.”
I ignore most of his dig. “For things related to Christmas, I am.”
“True. You are. Well, that’s nice of you.”
“Thank you.” There’s more I want to say, but I’m already feeling annoyed with him. No sense in making it worse since I’ll be the one to suffer. “Maybe another night I’ll come for dinner.”
“Yeah, sure. No big deal.”
Yet, the way his shoulders tense, it was a big deal. Wish I knew why he’s so hell-bent on having me over for dinner. This is a recent development in our relationship, one I’m uncertain where it stems from.
Our office manager, Meredith, pops her head into the office. “I’m taking off for the night. Don’t stay too late. The cars will be here in the morning to fix.”
“Yes, boss,” Beck agrees with a salute. “I’m taking off as soon as I close out this invoice.”
“Yeah, same,” I confirm. My turned-off computer stares back at me. “Actually, I’m done. The part I needed for Birdie’s car didn’t come in. Hopefully, it’ll be here in the morning so I can get that off my docket.” Even if the part arrives first thing, I doubt the car will be completely fixed by the end of the day. After the engine is repaired, one door needs another coat of paint, and that will take several hours to dry. But that’s Beck’s problem. Standing up, I motion to Meredith. “I’ll walk you out.” Out in the lobby, I grab my jacket from the hook and slip it on. “Have a great evening.”
“You too. Text me your breakfast order.” She points a finger at me with a glare. “Tonight. Not in the morning when it’ll be too late to put it in.”
I hold up my hands. “Tonight. Got it.” I should do it right now so I don’t forget, but I’ve got more pressing matters.
“Or go without breakfast. Night, Dax.”
