Page 41 of Christmas Kisses

It should hurt to see how in love they are. I was slightly bitter about it when I trudged past their room for the first time and saw the raunchy Mrs. Claus outfit my father had laid out for my mother, but then I realized they didn’t get where they are without the ups and downs every relationship faces.

My grandfather hated my father on sight. He did everything in his power to keep them apart.

But at the end of the day, love won, and I was born nine months later.

We won’t mention that my birthday is September twenty-fourth, or you’ll do the math I wish I never calculated.

Once my mother has my father’s focus solely on her, she gives me a nod of approval to continue altering the trajectory of my universe.

During a moment of weakness my first night home, I googled Single All the Way. Ever since, my Facebook page has been filled with advertisements for Zane’s business. I wasn’t interested in the who, what, when, or how of Single All the Way when mycuriosity got the better of me. I merely wanted to settle some theories that arose within me once things settled down.

Predominantly, why did Peter pay Zane days after we met for the first time, and how could he have known Santa would push me in Zane’s direction?

I had this crazy theory in my head about Peter paying the whole of Ravenshoe off to secure the return of his family’s heirloom, but the more I thought about it, the more I disbelieved my theory.

I sought Zane out.

I came on to him with the guise I was going to hire an escort for the night.

And then there was the return of the funds that had been illegally removed from a trading account I started two years ago when I commenced discussions with Peter about leaving Blacks and opening my own investment corporation.

Peter is so cheap he sold securities from my online trading account to pay Zane’s fee.

Mercifully, the money was refunded while I prepared for my interview with Marigold’s—hours before I arrived at Zane’s apartment.

Although I appreciate the return of the funds Peter could end up spending years behind bars for—I wasn’t the first client he embezzled money from—I’m still confused.

Why did Zane refund Peter if he believed his ruse was successful? Peter collected the engagement ring before my interview. He got his supposed money’s worth and then some if his valuation of his mother’s ring is accurate, so his entitlement to a refund makes no sense.

My confusion is why I’ve spent the past week with my head in future trades and investments.

And perhaps my anger.

It seems so odd that Zane founded a company that’s so disrespectful to women. He loves his sister and would do anything for his mother, so how did his notion of respect become so skewed?

After shrugging off my confusion for the umpteenth time this week, I log into the Facebook app to send Christmas messages to my online family and friends.

I’m halfway through my slim list when an advertisement hogs my phone screen.

“For crying out loud.”

When I spin my phone to show my mother the advertisement that’s just popped up, my father exposes he has his ear to the floor more than I realize. “Can’t you say you’re not interested? Then the bots will stop showing you Zane’s ads.”

I swear I’m smarter than my broken-hearted head makes out.

As I’m about to click the Not Interested button, my half-blind cat jumps onto my lap and bumps my hand, sending my clicking finger half an inch lower.

I’ll never be saved now.

My inward whine ends when I notice Zane’s website displays a banner announcing it is closed. It has a number to contact if you wish to claim reimbursement for any losses incurred by his company, then a link to a charity that will assist you with your claim.

Too curious for my own good, I click on the link.

My mouth gapes only a minute later. The charity won’t solely assist women in suing Single All the Way for any wrongdoings they believe they may have faced. It will also help women in situations similar to mine—the women who think they have to leave a relationship with nothing because they’re not married.

“Kelsey…” my mother murmurs when my throat works hard to swallow. I assume she’s worried I’m storming down a paththat will only cause me more pain, but I am proven wrong when she says, “Dios mío.Look at the time.” She pushes my father off her before snatching her car keys off the kitchen counter and tossing them into my chest. “You should have left half an hour ago. The traffic will be bumper-to-bumper all the way to the airport.”

I gulp when I notice the time. My grandparents are due to land in forty minutes.

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