Page 95 of Red Hot Roaster

Plaid ribbon wove in and around the tree, leaving the ends of the branches free for our ornaments. They were everywhere, with hardly a space to spare—vintage glass angels, Swedish straw goats, Irish Celtic knots, dogs of every breed and mix, foil-wrapped chocolates, and red and green paper chains made by five-year-old Finn. Some chains had two links, some had many more. All had been examined and re-glued as was our practice each year.

My cheeks hurt from grinning so big. I pulled my son and my bestie even closer to me and wallowed in the pure joy of the moment. A moment that capped my happiest day since Rafe’s departure almost three weeks ago.

This morning, I’d packed, no,stuffedthe care box with all the things I’d collected in the past two days. I’d started with one of the Chocolate Lab gift tins, but soon the goodies had spilled over into the surrounding cardboard container.

Besides holding my message and gifts—and those from Tony and his family—the box burst at the seams with items from everyone and their dog.

Hot pink Chocolate Lab beanie – Mateo

Chocolate Lab dog bandanna – Ana

Apple empanadas – Liliana

Timbers soccer T-shirt– Jean-Luc

Chocolate truffles – Kenzo

Insulated dog jacket – Mica & her dad

Elvis Love Songs CD – Lauren

Dog snow booties – Jen & her twins

Dog biscuits – Miss Ada & the girls

Frosted cutout cookies – Finn & Pirate

Silver coffee cupping spoon – Pete

Once the box had been packed and taped up a bazillion ways, Finn and I had taken it over to Pete’s friend at a north Portland shipping company. We’d sent it to the Bean Love Café, rather than the house, so Rafe would be there to sign for it. Guaranteed delivery by Christmas Eve!

Our night finished up with hot chocolate and marshmallows—and Baileys Irish Cream for the adults. Which turned out to be all three of us. Where did the time go?

We parted ways around eleven—Finn with Pi in tow and Lauren, still tired from their drive yesterday, to their rooms upstairs, and me to the garage apartment. Where I planned to spend some quality time with Rafe. Where we couldn’t be heard.

“I can’t do this any longer, Rose.”

I was sitting back against the headboard for our customary post-phone-sex talk. Still trying to catch my breath, I blotted my face with the back of my hand. His face had a sheen to it, too, but he was speaking in more measured tones than I could manage at the moment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that. Must be all my panting.”

He didn’t laugh.

“Rafe, could you please repeat what you just said?”

He looked away from the screen and turned back, his lips pressed in a tight line. “I can’t do this anymore, the texting, the talking, the phone sex. Seeing you this way.”

Oh. Okay. I got it now. “Rafe, I feel the same. It sucks big-time that we’re apart. But it’s only for a couple more months. When you—”

“No, Rose.” He cut me off. “I mean it will be too hard on you—and me—when I move on to my next job.”

“You’re not… You’re not co…coming home?” I went from flushed to ice cold in an instant, numbness spreading from my face down to my fingertips. I fumbled and nearly dropped my phone.

“The reasons I left haven’t changed,” Rafe mumbled.

“What?” I whisper-shouted.

“The reasons—”

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