Page 9 of UnLucky Christmas
Suddenly I remember I’m going to my parent’s house tonight. Lovely. I still need to break the news to them. I’m sure my mother will be disappointed because she liked Pete. Although I think she mostly liked him because he complimented her all the time. Regardless, it’s over and I’m going to take a few more days to wallow, and then I’ll be ready to celebrate the holidays whether I have someone in my life or not.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Why not? You deserve to have some fun,” Janelle exclaims. “Just get some background information first. You don’t want to get mixed up with a clinger or a serial killer.”
I laugh. “I doubt Macy would try to set me up with a serial killer.”
“Unless she doesn’t know he’s one,” she retorts. “Most people don’t even know.”
I roll my eyes.
“Anyway, I’ve been thinking there’s probably someone better out there for you. Pete is a nice guy, but you need someone who challenges you. Someone who has an edge. A man who makes you swoon. And maybe you were meant to meet Macy for that reason.”
“Hmm…I guess it’s possible.”
I turn onto my parents’ street.
“Anyway, I’m almost to my parent’s house. Wish me luck.”
“Ohhh, have fun,” she says with a giggle.
“I figure I’ll also tell my mother about my new Christmas tree while I’m here. I might as well rip off the Band-Aid all at once.”
I knock three times before opening the door and walk inside.
“I’m here,” I call.
“Hello,” my dad calls from his office.
“Hey, Dad.”
I walk into his office and find him sitting at his desk sifting through some papers. The room looks like a bomb went off in it. I glance at my dad—his glasses are sliding down his nose, he’s unshaven, and his salt-and-pepper hair looks like it needs a good trim.
“Where have you been, stranger?”
I shake my head. “You sound like Mom now.”
A strange expression spreads across his face. He looks frustrated and confused.
“Are you alright?” I ask worriedly.
He clears his throat. “Sure, you know me.”
That’s a typical answer from my dad. He would smile through a hurricane and say everything’s fine.
“How’s Pete?” he asks, conveniently shifting the subject.
Of course, that’s the last thing I want to talk about.
“Whitney, when did you get here?” my mother calls from the hallway.
“Just a few minutes ago,” I say. She appears in the doorway, and I take in her appearance. “Mom, you look great,” I gush, taking in her freshly colored hair, white blouse, and black cropped pants.
“Aww, thank you,” she says. “It’s a shame Pete couldn’t be here tonight.”
I press my lips together. I should just get it over with and tell them now.
“Well, get used to it because Pete and I are no longer together.”
