Page 17 of First Christmas

“Lucas wants to take me to the shooting range.” I said softly, spinning the mug on the table.

Monica tilted her head, considering, sipping her own cappuccino.

“That may not be a bad idea, Becks. Your only experience with guns was traumatic and-”

“We don’t have to talk about this,” I blurted.

“Rebecca Wareman. My best friend went through something traumatic and life altering. You let me talk about Paul when I need to even though it brings back bad memories for you.”

“That’s different,” I whispered.

“It’s really not.” Monica placed her hand over mine, squeezing gently. “It may be good for you to feel like you’re in control of the situation with one. Learn how to handle it in a safe and controlled situation. Get used to the noise,” she encouraged me. “Paul used to take me all the time.” She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink.

“My instinct is just to stay the hell away from them,” I said, eyes watering at the thought.

“I get that,” my best friend replied, gently. “Maybe we can go together.” She suggested. “Lucas could work with us both. Paul would hate for me to just stop.”

I stared into my best friend’s eyes, “You’d do that for me?”

“Becks. Any of us would do anything we could to help you,” she stated firmly, shaking her head at me, “One day you’re going to believe that.”

“Are you and the girls still going to your parents, and Paul’s parents, Christmas Eve?” I asked, changing the subject.

Mon nodded, smiling as the waitress set down our food. “It’s going to be different but I don’t think anyone’s ready to stop tradition,” she stated, taking a bite of her chocolate cake.

“Mmmmmmm,” she closed her eyes. “Okay. This is amazing. Enough talking for now. More eating.”

I laughed, taking my own bite, eyes widening at the rich flavor.

“See.” Monica emphasized, pointing her fork at me, “Amazing.”

“You’re right. Less talking. More eating.” I laughed.

After a few moments of companionable silence, she spoke up, so quiet i could have missed it.

“Trevor has been coming around a lot lately…” she trailed off, reorganizing her cake to the center of her plate.

My eyes shot up to hers, “And how do we feel about that?” I questioned, taking a sip of my Americano.

I watched my best friend shrug, seeming unsure and felt my heart ache a bit.

“I really think it may be out of obligation. Lacey and everything. The girls are understandably still reeling from losing Paul.”

“I doubt it's an obligation, Mon. I’ve been around you two often enough to see he still has feelings for you.”

She choked on the bite of cake she’d just placed in her mouth, and I slid her ice water over to her.

After she’d taken a sip she looked at me.

“Are you kidding me? It’s only been about six months since Paul died. Trevor doesn’t have feelings for me…it’s been so long.”

I shook my head, pushing my own empty plate away from me.

“You’re not quite on the outside looking in. Don’t sell yourself short, Mon. I understand it being super soon but you’ll knowwhen it’s right. Paul wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone forever,” I said softly.

“I know. I just wish we’d had that conversation.” She said, staring out the window. “I always brushed him off. It hurts to even talk about it.”

I stared at her until she met my eyes again and smiled gently.

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