Page 9 of The Art of Being Merry
If she’s caught off guard by his request, she doesn’t let it show. She hides any sort of animosity toward his father from him. It’s what good moms do—shield their kids from the bad.
“Sure. Make sure you don’t drop it.” She hands him the phone, and he dashes away to where the rest of the group stands, holding it up, pointing in different directions.
“Brave of you.”
She spins my way, confusion layered over her exuberant expression. “Huh?”
“Giving him the phone. What if he drops it and it shatters?”
“I would congratulate him. I’m due for a new one.” Her serious answer contradicts the outward array of sparkling emotions.
“Maybe you should pick one up when you’re at Target.”
“Yeah, maybe I should look into that. See what the payments would be.”
She turns away from me, and I get the sense I’ve upset her. Thankfully, she’s called away from where we’re standing, and I’m saved from having to pursue it.
As if that’s my place.
3
clem
Perhaps it’s notmy best decision to have indulged in the delicious drink at Beckett’s.
Or continuing now as Dax drives me and the boys home. I’m only past tipsy, but I don’t have another adult to rely on anymore if I drink. Not that Keith was the most reliable, but at least he was an adult body, someone to help if I needed it. Now, it’s me, and me alone. Sure, I’ve got Willa, but she’s a newlywed. I can’t keep dumping my crap on her. She’s in the honeymoon stage, and for her sake, I hope it never ends.
Keith and I never had that. Even at the beginning, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. I liked him enough, but it’s not like I loved him when we got married. Two pink lines were to blame for the hasty marriage. Without them, we wouldn’t have lasted much longer than a year, if that.
When Atlas was a toddler, I contemplated leaving him, but he begged me to stay. He’d get his act together if I didn’t leave. And he did. For about six months, just long enough for another set of pink lines to interrupt our lives.
If I’m honest, I’ve been making stupid decisions all my life. They just keep getting more drastic.
“We’re here.” Dax’s voice interruptsmy ruminations.
We don’t live far from Main Street, but certainly I didn’tdaydream the entire drive. Staring through the windshield, it appears I have.
By some miracle of all miracles, Autumn helped me find an affordable rental, probably the only rental in town in my budget. It’s not much, but it’s got two bedrooms, a bathroom, an open floor plan kitchen and dining space, a small living room, a finished basement, and all utilities included. It needs a little TLC, but when the owner found out about my artistic ability and creative talents, we made a deal I could make upgrades—with his permission—as I see fit. In return, he knocked even more money off the already reduced rent.
Since we moved in in July, I spend a few hours a week on what I call “house projects,” much of which has been prepping things to be painted, sanding cabinet doors and drawers, and scrubbing every surface in the cottage. I’ve got a long way to go to make it more homey, but it’s been a pleasant distraction most days. And at least I get to work on it while the kids are home, so I don’t have to ask anyone to babysit.
I turn to the man on my left. The overhead light showcases his handsome side profile.
A layer of stubble disguises his otherwise chiseled jaw and chin. Michelangelo could have carved his angular nose. Tiny wrinkle lines enhance his eyes.
“Thanks again for driving us home.” At the sound of my voice, he faces me.
“You’re welcome. Happy to help. How was the eggnog?”
“Utterly amazing.” I can’t help the sigh falling from my lips. “I don’t know where Beckett finds all these scrumptiousconcoctions, but he’s never steered me wrong.” I’m not sure I should be admitting so much to Dax, in front of the boys, no less, but my lips seem looser around him. Like he’s someone I can trust with my secrets.
“Yeah, it’s kind of annoying how many talents he has, some of them wasted on a guy like him.”
I can’t read his meaning exactly. Is he jealous of Beckett? From the little I know about Dax, he’s got some fine qualities. He’s a dedicated uncle, a great son, and from what I can tell, a talentedmechanic. He’s kind and generous with his time and willing to help a friend, as evidenced tonight.
“When do you need your car tomorrow?”
“Whenever. We don’t have any pressing plans.”
