Page 24 of Booked for the Holidays
“Aversion to birds?” she asks.
“No. More like, what the hell do you do with them after you’re finished?”
She gives me a solemn nod, but I get the feeling she’s holding back laughter as her lips twitch. “I can agree to that compromise. No reenactments. No hats. Got it. Do you need to leave, or do you have a few minutes? There’s a questionnaire the owners are supposed to answer for the magazine. It shouldn’t take long. We could knock that out and maybe pick a time for all of our people to get together and start planning?”
I check my watch. Mac spends time at my parents’ house after soccer practice, and I’m normally well on my way to pick her up by now. No matter what kind of shit is going on at work, it’s a priority of mine to be home for dinner every night. Making a split second decision, I pull out my phone.
“My parents watch Mac, and I’ll just tell them I’m going to be a little late.”
“Shit. Of course. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to take you away from any family plans. It was stupid of me to assume you had tons of free time.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “Hey. Bridget. Look at me.”
I’ve found I like to say her name. I like it even better when she listens, raising her chin, eyes meeting mine. Her lip is caught between her teeth, worry painted on her scrunched brows. Ink-stained hands twist together, fingers intertwining. I want to reach out and hug her, to let her know she hasn’t done anything wrong.
And I’m not a hugger.
“What?” she asks, hesitant, unsure.
“You’re not stupid.”
“I assumed you could drop everything and–”
“Iamdropping everything. I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions. I’m here with you because I want to be here with you. Alright?”
“You promise? Because you can go. I can send you an email or something. Maybe a fax if it’s more your speed.”
I nudge her shoulder with mine as I pass. “Yeah, Brownie. I promise. Give me five minutes, and I’m all yours.”
NINE
THEO
“Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
Whenever Mac answers the phone, she never sounds like a girl who’s almost thirteen or the kid who got her braces off six months ago. She sounds like a college freshman, one foot out the door, on her way to a party I’m not supposed to know about.
It trips me up every time.
“Dad? Helloooo?”
“Sorry. I’m here. Did you finish your homework?”
“Homework is complete and we’re doing a puzzle now. Will you be here soon? We’re having chicken and mashed potatoes.”
“I’m going to be a little late tonight.”
Her gasp is so loud, I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “Do you have adate?”
“It is not a date. I’m working on a holiday thing.”
“What kind of holiday thing?”
“Something for a magazine I’m doing with Bridget. Don’t ask.”
“I want to hang out with Bridget! She was so cool when I met her the other day. Will you tell her I said hi?”
“Sure thing. I’ll pick you up later, okay?”
