Page 57 of Holiday Unscripted
I look around at all the full tables and see Elizabeth sitting with a bunch of her girl cousins, and I smile when I hear her laugh. Smiling because she’s getting to spend time with her family. Making a mental note to ask her if she misses them when she’s not here. I make my way over to the table where Jack is sitting with Matthew, Max, and Zack, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “I’m starving,” I declare, making the staple Stone breakfast taco, where you put the scrambled eggs, sausage, and bacon in the pancake, and then dip it in the syrup.
“I’m taking it that Elizabeth didn’t cook you breakfast.” Jack snickers while he takes his own bite of food.
“I don’t know about you,” Matthew offers, “I would not eat anything from someone who wanted me dead.”
“She doesn’t want me dead.” I look at the guys, who just give me a confused look.
“She’s wanted you dead for the past, I don’t know, ten years.”
“No, she hasn’t,” Zack adds. “The two of them used to fight just like Jack and Joshua.” He defends me. “She would get under his skin at times, and he would get under hers, but she never really wanted to kill him.”
“Pretty sure when he used to eat her food that was in the fridge, she wanted to kill him.” Jack laughs. “Once he took the last ice cream sandwich that she tried to hide, and she took all of his shoes and threw them in the pool after she poured honey in them.”
I shake my head, remembering the memory. “Yes, and she also put it in my skates, and I didn’t check before I put my feet into them.”
“I remember that,” Jack says. “The floor in the locker room was sticky for a fucking month.”
“Don’t remind me,” Zack states. “We also had an infestation of ants after that.”
I can’t help but look over at her. The two of us have so many stories over the years, some good, some bad, some so great it fills your soul so full like it’s about to explode. Then the worst was after our night together. The only other time I had felt that type of pain and sadness was when I lost my parents and then my grandparents.
The phone rings from my back pocket, and when I pull it out, I see it’s the office calling. “Hello.”
“Hey, Nate,” Chloe, my vet tech, says, “I know you aren’t on call and are on vacation but?—”
“What’s up?” I ask her.
“Priscilla got food poisoning last night and Bruno,” she mentions the vet who is taking over for me and the dog one of my first clients has, “has come in with a blockage in his?—”
“What did he eat?” I ask her.
“A pair of panties,” she replies, trying not to laugh.
“I’ll be there in a bit,” I tell her and disconnect. “I have to go in. My replacement got food poisoning.” I finish my taco and push away from the table. “I have to go and tell Elizabeth.”
“I can take her back to your house,” Jack offers, “or she can come home with us.”
“I’ll just tell her,” I say, grabbing my plate and taking it to the kitchen, putting it in the sink before I turn and walk toward Elizabeth, who is still sitting with her cousins.
I walk to her and her eyes fly up to meet mine. “Hey,” I greet, nodding to all of them. “I just got a call and I have to go into work. One of my dogs got into some personal items and has eaten a pair of underwear,” I tell her. “Jack said he can take you back to my house or you can wait here.”
“Or,” she suggests, “why don’t I come with you?”
“To my work?” I ask her, shocked that she would come with me instead of staying with her family.
“Yeah.” She gets up and looks at the girls. “I’m a doctor. I’m pretty sure it’s almost the same thing in the operating room.”
I shake my head as she moves quickly to say goodbye to her parents and then meets me by the door. “You don’t have to come with me.”
“Are you kidding?” she replies, putting on her boots. “This is a much-needed escape. They were talking about doing some sort of wedding prep, and I’m not about that life.”
“What wedding prep?” I ask her as I put my own boots on.
“Something about welcome bags and party favors.” She grabs her jacket. “All I know is I’m not making anyone a welcome bag when I was kicked out of my own house.”
“You know, technically, it’s not your room anymore,” I remind her as I shrug my jacket on and she just glares at me.
“Wow, someone is choosing violence before he has to perform surgery. I would hate to, I don’t know, break a finger or something.”
