Page 61 of If You Give a Grump a Christmas Tree Farm
I’ve never wanted to drive my fist into my brother’s face more than I do right now, when it’s too late to do anything about it.
“I know it’s hard, but you have to let go of all that old hurt,” I tell her.
“Back ‘atcha, JJ.”
She’s right. I’m hanging onto every single thing from my childhood, and here I am telling her to let her pain go. “You’re right about that. It’s not easy, is it? I’m sorry for the flippant response. It was thoughtless.”
“I guess we both need to work on that.”
“You’re exposing the cracks in your marriage, and I admire your guts for doing so. You’re stronger than you know, Rebecca. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.”
“Thanks, JJ.”
We walk inside, and I move to the fire, starting one with kindling and split hickory logs. The rich scent of burning wood soon fills the air. Something about a crackling fire has always soothed my soul.
Rebecca curls up on the couch, and I tuck a throw blanket around her. “Want some wine?”
“That’d be nice.”
I return shortly with two glasses. I’ve never been a wine drinker before, but it’s not so bad, and I enjoy it with Rebecca.
“Thank you.” She takes the glass from my hand, and I sit next to her. “I’m sorry about tonight. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You have every right to have feelings. Don’t apologize for them. Not to me. Not to anyone.” I brush a lock of her hair back.
“You’re not who I thought you were, JJ.”
“No?”
“Well, maybe at the beginning. You were so grouchy. But now I’ve gotten to know the man underneath all that. You’re a good guy, and you care about people.”
“Don’t let it get around. You’ll ruin my hard-earned reputation.” I smile, and she chuckles. I hold up my glass. “Here’s to wrong first impressions.”
We clink glasses and sip.
“What was your first impression of me?” she asks.
“You don’t want to know,” I murmur.
“That bad?”
“Not bad at all, but it’ll sound vulgar. Let’s just say I thought you were very pretty in that sweater dress.”
“What’s the vulgar version?”
“I wanted to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture.”
She laughs. “That is vulgar.”
“Told you. You need to listen to me more.” I grin and stare at the fire. “But damn, I’ve used the image of you in that dress more than once in the shower.”
Her mouth drops open, and she slugs my arm. “You are a bad boy.”
“To the bone, darlin’.”
That makes her snort and almost spit out her sip of wine.
“If I didn’t know that was your first glass, I’d cut you off.”
