Page 181 of Sinning for Santa

“Well, nothing too shocking other than the fact that these BS beliefs they’ve been raising us with are things she truly believes. And as far as I can tell, it was the way her and Dad were raised too.”

I nod, not that shocked. Our parents attended the same church together as kids, so their courtship, as my mother likes to call it, was understandable before they got married.

Were my parents nothing but pawns in their parents’ twisted beliefs as well?

Probably.

“There’s no changing them now,” I admit, wondering how Dad likes living without his fingers.

I wish I had been there when he met the devil.

“Well, we better get going,” Presley says, grabbing her bag off the table. “I need to grab a bottle of bubbles on our way back.”

I snicker. “I’m pretty sure you don’t need to take a bottle of wine to a Marx party. They have plenty of money to supply booze.”

“Oh, no. It’s not for the party. It’s for before the party while I get ready.” Presley giggles, and I smile, standing with her as we leave the riverfront cafe.

We chat away as we walk arm in arm the few blocks to Presley’s favourite bottle-o, and I stay outside as she goes in, enjoying the sun and the hyped atmosphere of the city today.

In the window of the bottle-o, they have a selection of expensive whiskeys sitting behind the security grates, and my eyes widen at the hefty five thousand dollar price tag.

Gosh. I hope Presley’s wine isn’t expensive.

As I glance up, a figure across the street catches my eye in the reflection of the window.

Tall. Sandy hair, but wearing a cap.

I stiffen.

Shit.

“I can’t believe they’ve already sold out of my fav,” Presley huffs coming to stand next to me, but my eyes remain on the figure over the street. “I should have grabbed it yesterday, but I was worried I’d drink it early and then be without, and now I’m without anyway. This cheap shit will have to do.”

“Have a look at this,” I say, ignoring the bottle my sister is holding up as I lean closer to the window and point at the whiskey bottles.

“Wait… do you drink whiskey now?” Presley asks in confusion.

“Pres, just keep pretending to look at the whiskey, but instead look at the reflection, and tell me if you can see someone across the street watching us.”

A strangled okay falls from her lips, and then I hear her gasp.

“Is that Eddie?”

“Yes. I’ve had a sixth sense that someone has been following me since yesterday. It’s him. We’re not safe.”

“I got this.” Presley straightens from the window and pulls out her phone tapping the screen before placing it to her ear. “Act casual,” she tells me, so I stop staring in the window and look at her instead, wondering what she’s doing.

“Hi, yes it’s me,” Presley says into the phone. “You know how you said if we ever felt like we were in danger I could ring. Well, this is me calling.”

I can hear a deep voice on the other end of the line, but can’t make out who it is.

“Yes, we can start walking that way. See you soon.”

Hanging up, she loops her elbow with mine and we start walking back the way we came from only minutes ago.

“Who was that and where are we going?” I ask, and my big sister beams at me.

“That was Liam, and he’s just around the corner, so he’ll drive us home.”

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