Page 85 of Booked for the Holidays
I wrestle with a rogue piece of the fake fir. “Mac, he’s allowed to go on dates with whoever he wants. He and I aren’t… We’re not together.”
“Whyaren’tyou together? He likes you. You like him. It can’t be that difficult, can it?”
I forget how blunt kids can be. They don’t understand the broad scope of actions and life outside their small bubble of reality. To Mac, her dad and I are two adults relatively close to the same age, both without anyone else in the picture. Whywouldn’twe be dating?
“Feelings aren’t always black and white, kiddo. Maybe he really, really likes the woman he’s out with tonight. Maybe the two of them had a great connection and he’s interested to see where it goes.” I shrug. “He’s not doing anything wrong by being out with someone else. I’m okay, I promise. I’m not mad at him.”
Confused would be the appropriate adjective. I guess I interpreted our moments together differently than Theo did. It’s no one’s fault I’m disappointed he’s out with someone, because we never had a specific conversation about it. I didn’t realize how much I cared for him until I heard the worddatecome out of his mouth and knew he wasn’t asking me.
I wasn’t going to tell him no, either. We haven’t been intimate. We haven’t had an explicit conversation aboutus. Do I daydream about him pushing me against a wall andfinallykissing me instead of playing games that raise my blood pressure and soak my underwear?
Repeatedly.
Factually, however, we’re merely platonic companions with no romantic ties to each other.
Mac huffs and crosses her arms. “If he dates someone else will you still be around?”
“Sweetie,” I laugh. “We’re getting way ahead of ourselves. Take a deep breath. Besides, those are questions you need to ask him. If he finds someone who makes him happy, then I’m happy for him. But I won’t jeopardize his relationship to hang out with y’all.”
“Fine,” she draws out. “I’m glad he’s getting back out there. I’ve never seen him with a girl before. Ever. Like, never ever.”
“Really? It’s been that long?”
“Yeah,” Mac says. “Not even anything where he’s snuck around and hidden it from me. So, good for him for going to dinner, but I’m not as stoked about this as I should be. I wish you and Dad were together. I love him. You’re great. It would be perfect.”
“Put it on your Christmas list,” I joke. “Maybe Santa will bring it for you. We’re not putting the tree up without him here, are we? He’d be bummed to miss out on the decorating.”
“No. He always complains about climbing into the attic, so now it’s done and he has no excuse for not decorating with me this weekend!”
“Smart girl. Am I going to be in trouble for letting you on the ladder yourself?”
Mac shrugs, an evil glint to her eye. “Maybe.”
I groan and grab a throw pillow, chucking it at her. “Not cool, kid. I just got on his good side.”
Together we pull the eight-foot fake tree out of the box, adjusting the branches and height. Mac climbs back up the ladder to the attic again, pulling down the box of ornaments.
“Where are the lights?” I ask, setting the plastic box to the tree.
“Dad keeps them somewhere. He’ll grab them when we decorate.” She winces and squats to the ground, laying out the tree skirt.
“Whoa. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m fine.”
“You’re holding your stomach like you’re in pain. Oh, hell, is it your appendix? Do we need to go to the hospital? Shit, Theo is going to kill me.”
“No. No hospital. It’s embarrassing.”
“Tattoo gone wrong?” I ask.
“I wish. I… I started my period last night.”
“Ah, shot.”
“For the first time.”
“Double shot. Does your dad know?”
