Page 93 of The Love Losers

“Good,” she says firmly. “I knew I’d raised a man of principles.” She glances out the window at the snow, watching as the fat flakes fall. A few moments later, her eyes find mine again. “They all think I killed your father. They love to gossip about it. This person who’s running the website is bringing all of that up again.”

“No one’s seen it other than us.”

“How do you know?”

I don’t, although I have a feeling we’d be getting phone calls and messages if it were more widely known. I say as much, then add, “People in this town love nothing better than to gossip. But most of them don’t really believe it.”

“When I found out your father was hurting you, I wanted to kill him,” she says fiercely, her eyes glittering in the firelight. “I would have. I was going to.”

The glass nearly drops from my grip, but I set it on the table with a clink. The fire suddenly feels too warm, the lights from the tree too bright. “Mother?”

Wind whistles through the old windows, and somewhere upstairs a door shuts.

“Leaving wouldn’t have been enough. He never would have let us go. I had a plan, Anthony. I should have told you years ago, but I didn’t want to burden you after everything you’d been through. Maybe that was a mistake, though. I need you to know that I wouldn’t have let him keep hurting you.”

I nod, my throat swelling with emotion.

“Do you believe me?”

“I do.” Perhaps it’s not rational for such a revelation to bring a man comfort, but that’s exactly what it does.

“Shall we pretend Santa paid a visit?” my mother asks.

I smile at her, feeling different, although the situation I’m in isn’t any better than it was a few hours ago. “Yes, I’ll get some cookies.”

Rosie’s cookies, not that I’m going to think of her more or less if they’re sitting out in the drawing room.

“And I’ll get the packages,” Mother says, surprising me. For the past twenty years or so, we’ve exchanged gift cards or maybe a wrapped book. “But not just yet, Anthony. For right now, I think I’d like to rest and watch the snow.”

And we sit there like that, companionably sipping our drinks, as Christmas Eve slips into Christmas.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ROSIE

Conversation with Dom

Two words for you: Thirsty Thursday.

What do you think, Ro?

Do you mind if I call you Ro?

So, Gene and I were thinking we’d have pretzels. But not just any pretzels. Like…the saltiest pretzels known to man.

So obviously people would need to drink lots of beer to get them down, right?

Genius.

We’re gonna leave the freebie condoms out again, because that seemed like a hit.

So are you gonna come?

I’ll help you spread the news, my friend, but I might be going to New York.

NO. Oh man. I don’t want to lose you to the Big Apple, Ro. We need you here. What about Anthony?

My brother lives up there. I’d just be going to visit.

---