Page 45 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
“I’m sorry.”
“And stop saying you’re fucking sorry!”
I flinched.
Kelli’s cheeks turned red, and tears formed in the corner of her eyes. “If you hadn’t shown up at the reunion, none of this would have ever happened. You upset her and drove her away. And then Lina, in all her fucking glory, drove like a mad woman when I tried to tell her to slow down, and now look. Look at what the two of you have done to me.”
“Kelli, neither of us ever wanted this to happen.”
“Look at me, Cal!” Her yell was broken by a sob, and she looked down to her lap as she started to cry in earnest.
I didn’t know what to do. So, I ran my hand down my face and fought the urge to fall apart like she was. Guilt curled up in my gut like a spiteful little creature, hell-bent on tearing me apart from the inside out. “You deserve so much better than this, Kelli. And Lina… she still has no clue what happened.”
“You mean what she did to me?” Kelli asked, lifting her tear-filled gaze to me. She laughed without humor and shook her head. “Lucky her. She gets to forget.”
“She’s forgotten all the good, too.”
“What good? There is no good left. Not anymore. Not for me.” Kelli sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “It’s over for me.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Fuck you, Cal. Take her shit, and get out of here. I don’t want to see either of you ever again.”
Kelli turned herself around. It was a struggle for her and a struggle for me to watch without offering to help. I knew if I tried, she would scream bloody murder at me. Eventually, she wheeled herself into the living room, and I could hear her crying as Judy came back down the stairs. She paused in front of the entrance to the living room, frowned, and came over to me.
She held out two large bags. I took them. “Thank you, Judy.”
“No problem. I’m sorry about all this.”
“Don’t be,” I said, trying to smile. I failed miserably.
Judy stepped outside and closed the front door behind her. She wrapped her arms tight around herself to ward off the chill. Apparently, her thick Christmas sweater didn’t do the trick. She looked both ways down the street, as if wishing another distraction would arrive, and then turned her gaze back to me. “Take care of Lina, will you? She’s a second daughter to me, and I wish I could be there for her too right now. I just… I can’t with Kelli like this. You understand?”
“Of course I do. You have enough to worry about. Let me know if I can do anything.”
“I will. And what Kelli said. Try not to think about it too much. I have faith that she’ll come around. She loves Lina. It was just a mistake.” Judy sucked in a shaky breath as her bottom lip began to tremble with grief. “I have to believe it was just a mistake.”
I reached out and put my hand over her wrist. “It was, Judy.”
18
LINA
There was no way of knowing if staying up in my room for three hours by myself after having my afternoon shower was out of character for me or not. But nobody came and knocked on the bedroom door while I flipped through one of the romance books on the nightstand, and no one called me downstairs, and no one made me feel like I was being… strange.
So, I stayed where I was and lay on my bed completely alone, trying to figure out who I was without all the distractions of the hospital staff and monitors, or Cal, or his father, or his adorable son.
And my mind was nothing but blank, like white noise on an old television set, rabbit ears and all.
“How do you know what everything is but not who everyone is?” I wondered aloud around six in the evening. The sun had set a long time ago, and I was reading by the warm amber glow of the lamp beside the bed. The shade was mint green and had little crystals hanging out from under it. It was the only feature in the room with any sort of feminine qualities—besides the romance novels.
I closed the book in my lap and reached out to play with some of the crystals. They danced at my touch, little fractures of light all up the walls and ceiling. I sighed and let my hand fall to my side.
Trying to remember was infuriating. And confusing. And somehow not emotional at all. It was like wading through very still, lukewarm water. Nothing felt out of place. Nothing was a shock to the senses. It was all just warm and mildly comfortable.
There was a soft knock at the door. I stared at it, wondering dubiously if it had only been my imagination. Then someone spoke.
“Lina? It’s Cal. I just picked up some of your things. I’ve left them by the door for you. If you’d like, you can come down and join the rest of us for dinner. My father is a pretty good cook. He’s whipped up his famous chicken enchiladas.”
