Page 99 of The Art of Being Merry
I answer, “Yep. So now you owe us a night to ourselves. Let Clementine know when you can babysit.” I don’t know where the suggestion comes from, but once it’s out there, I don’t want to take it back. Because my girl deserves a date night out. With me.
“Yeah, sure. We’d be happy to take them.”
“They can stay the night, if that’s something they’d be up for,” Beck adds.
Clementine’s eyes widen. I’m not sure which has the higher shock value—Beck suggesting they sleep over or having an entire night to ourselves. Because it’s the latter for me for sure.
An entire night to ourselves, to do whatever we want? That sounds like a slice of heaven.
“Yes,” I answer without thinking of the consequences. And when my brain clues in that they’re not my children, I defer to Clementine. “I mean, if that’s something they’d want.”
“I’m not sure. I’ll ask them to gauge their interest.” She nibbles the skin around her finger, so I lay a hand on her thigh under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Okay, so what else?”
“Then you showed up at his work. And sat in the car for ten minutes having a ‘discussion’.” She uses air quotes around discussion.
“Meredith’s fired,” I utter. Why is she spilling my secrets to Beck or Willa? We didn’t do anything in the car. We were just talking.
“No, she’s not,” Beck says. “You don’t have the authority to fire her, but also, our business would crumble without her. So unless you’re prepared to take on her job too, she stays.”
I hate when he’s so rational when I’m being irrational. Of course, I won’t fire her, for exactly the reasons he points out, among others.
“Fine, she can stay.”
“Yeah, thought so,” Beck consents.
Willa stares at me, her blue eyes bright with what looks like fury. “Don’t hurt my sister. Beckett calls me Bundy for a reason.” She points her pointer and middle finger toward her eyes and then my way. “I’m watching you,” she mouths.
Clementine rolls her eyes. “So glad you brought dramatic Willa to dinner, Beckett.”
It’s his turn to shrug. His love for her runs deep. The man would do anything to protect her.
A waiter appears at our table. “Hi, I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I get you started with something to drink?”
“What beer do you have on tap? Wait.” Clementine looksdown at her phone and turns to me. “Can we swing by your parents after we eat and you drive us all home so I can have a beer? Or two?”
“Sure thing.”
Clementine lights up brighter than the holiday display in the corner. “Great, thanks.” She turns back toward the waiter. “My question stands. What beer do you have on tap?”
He lists them out, and Clementine hems and haws about which one she wants. “Get one of each. I’ll drink the one you don’t want.”
“Super idea. What the smart man said.” The waiter turns his attention to Willa and Beck, and Clementine leans into me. “They seem okay with the situation, which is good. Because I could get used to this.”
“Which part?” I can’t help but ask.
“Me and you. On a date. Even with other people. It’s . . . nice.”
“It’s more than nice, Clementine.” I don’t add that she should get used to it. Although treating her on dates is something I’d love to do, I’m not sure it’s a reality for us.
And it has nothing to do with my history.
30
clem
I can’t getover how much this holiday season is a thousand times better than last year. Being close to Willa again has certainly added to the appeal, but most of the credit goes to Dax. Even when he’s not giving me orgasms, the man is magical. His love for the holiday shines through in so much of what he does, and it’s spilling over to me and the boys.
After uprooting them last year on Christmas Eve, I knew this year had to be a great one. And I planned to make it that way. Until Keith demanded I bring them to North Carolina for Christmas, only to change his mind at the last minute. Thankfully, I transferred the tickets to January when I have to head back to the gallery.
