Page 144 of Stuck With You
“In the morning, if it doesn’t snow too much.”
“I’ll run over when we get home and check your oil and tire pressure.”
I peer up at him. “You don’t have to. I can do that.”
“Will you have to Google it?”
I pinch him, and he flinches. “You know, Google has saved lives.”
“It’ll take me two minutes. It might take you all night.”
I groan. “Fiiinnnne.”
“You sure you want to go?”
I inhale his comforting scent and let it out, resting my head on his chest to stay warm, but also, it feels really nice. “Maybe it will snow three feet, and I’ll be saved from having to perform a Christmas duet with my mom during karaoke.”
“Is that really a thing?” He sounds mortified.
I rest my chin on his chest. “You’ve not met my mother.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“Oh, but everyone who attends has to sing. Now,thatI would like to see.”
“It’d be a cold day in hell before . . .”
I laugh, and he releases me. “Thank you for coming tonight. It was the highlight of Ollie’s preschool experience. Make sure to tell the guys and Krissy, ok?”
He opens my door, waiting for me to climb in. “I’ll follow you home.”
I slide in. “See you in a few.”
I watch him walk to his truck, wondering what it would be like if life were different. Different place. Different time. Different circumstances.
Slade is too good a man for me to allow him to get caught up in whatever I’ve got coming. It’ll entail reliving the nightmare of what was, but if Miles wins, Ollie and Frankie won’t be going anywhere without me. If I have to move to New York City, it will mean saying goodbye to Slade.
His brake lights flare along with my heart, and that’s one more thing I’m not even close to being ready to thinkabout.
Chapter 37
SARAH
“Honey, I don’t know. They’re working on clearing the highways, but Russ says the plows aren’t even close to touching the county roads. It’ll be dark by the time they get to them. I don’t want you driving at night. It could be slick.”
I run my fingers through Grover’s soft, curly fur. “Ollie will be so bummed.”
The snowstorm blew through, leaving behind six inches of snow and more back home. I’ll be sad not to spend Christmas with my mom, but I can’t say I won’t be happy to avoid stirring the small-town gossip. I can definitely do without the questions about Miles’s new gig and spending the next two days rehashing every worst-case scenario. Especially for Christmas.
“We’ll FaceTime tomorrow, and maybe I can swing coming down for New Year’s.”
“Be careful when you go out to shovel.” My mom will be out clearing a pathway through the trailer park to ensure the light show remains undeterred.
“Will do, honey. I’ll send you pictures of the best decorations and a video of Agatha’s drunken rendition of ‘Santa Baby.’”
Agatha is eighty and lives two trailers over. She smokes like a chimney, and each Christmas Eve, she plants herself next to the punch bowl until it’s her turn behind the mic. It’s tradition.
“It’ll be like I’m there.” I laugh. “Love you, Mom.”
