Page 26 of Love Letters to Christmas

“Am,” Ceres chirps.

Mars cuts his fingers back through the wild black strands of his hair. “Everything okay?”

“I’m going to see Amelia. We are getting Taco Bell.”

Instead of informing Ceres that this is ahorribleidea, Mars says, “Okay. I’ll drive.”

“Girlies only.”

“I’m good at cosplaying as a girlie.”

“You’re in the middle of a meeting.”

“I will text Jove that there was an emergency.”

“You’d shirk part of yourvery rareandimportantweekly meeting to invade my girlie time?”

Mars rests his forehead against his arm and smiles down at his fiancée. “Yes.”

“Poor Jupiter,” Ceres bemoans.

When Mars’s eye twitches, I interject, “I’m fine! No one has to come take me to Taco Bell. Promise. I’m trying to helpother people, not myself.” Taking in a deep breath and fighting the urge to sob, I blurt, “Mars, do you have any problems I can fix?”

Mars arches a brow and looks at Ceres. Ceres says, “She is done working on herself. Now she’d like to work on us.”

“Ah.” Mars hums, contemplating his many issues, I’m sure. Finally, he locates the perfect one for me, and says, “My wifey-to-be doesn’t want to wear a veil at our wedding. I am peak distress, thinking about how many people will be ogling her.”

These people really don’t have normal problems that are within an attainable and fixable sphere for me, huh?

“Whose fault is it that we’re getting married in full view of the entire town?” Ceres mutters.

“The most romantic holiday of the year’s,” Mars replies.

It’s like they aren’t even speaking English anymore.

One way or another, I manage to coax the lunatics down from coming to see me at two in the morning for Taco Bell. I hang up only once I’m convinced they won’t be bothering Brian on my account by showing up in the middle of the night, then I sigh.

Drained, I return to my carpet-yoga, listening distantly for Brian to make it home from the store, so I can make dinner.

All the while, I do my best to focus on anything, anything,anything…other than myself.

Chapter Ten

No one tells me anything.

Amelia

I was locked in a car with Brian for six hours so I could watch grown men in sunglasses get married at night during a ten minute ceremony that took place on the outskirts of a town painted red, red, and red. I was locked in a car with Brian forsix hours, and I only barely survived, because at one point he had to make a U-turn, and hesingle-handledthe wheel full circle. It took everything in me to keep my heart from leaping out of my throat.

Because I am no longer allowed to obsess over Brian Single.

No, sir.

I am on a personal growth journey, marching valiantly toward healing…and peace…and security.

And just in case anyone asks, I am doing agreatjob and makingexcellentprogress.

“I have not seen your parents here,” Ceres says, seated beside me in her wedding dress as though she’s not eating a messy Grilled Cheese Burrito that could forever stain the fabric. On the whole, her “wedding gown” is more of a “white summer dress,” but still.

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