Page 49 of Christmas Chaos
II
NO CRIB AND NO BED
By
Kelly Kay
PROLOGUE
February 12 – Chicago, IL
United Lounge, O’Hare Airport
4:46 p.m. CST
TABI
Last call.
Everyone is fucking crazy right now, and I love it. We just finished up a dance party and everyone was making a complete ass of themselves except grumpy Haggis breath who sat and watched. Sabrina and Jonathan stopped using glasses like a half hour ago and just passed a bottle. Tristan actually unbuttoned his vest and danced with the rest of us to some old-school hip hop. He knew every word. Ben is flailing his hands in the air as I make my way over to the corner of the room where we spent most of our time. The lounge and flight crews got quite a show. They stayed in their corner of the world behind some glass, but we were like a fish tank for them. I never care who’s watching or what’s being said. It’s the gift of no filter—or that the appearance of no filter or not caring is a powerful shield.
We’re packing up our belongings to head to our gates. The lights are on everywhere, not just in our oasis. I look around and suddenly I’m going to miss these people. I don’t usually bond well. Ask any of my female friends. Poppy Gelbert once said I wasn’t a hand holding friend. And I’ve known her since she was born. I feel a kinship with her cousin, Rebecca, she’s not much of a girl’s girl either, but Becca’s brother, David, is like a blood bond to me. I hold David’s hand all the time. Not sure what it is about women that I don’t connect with as deeply, but men on a deep friendship level have always been easier for me.
Sabrina’s fantastic, though, and I hope we stay connected. She’s spirited, goofy, and also holds the right amount of cynicism. As soon as she gets out of her own way, she’ll be fine. This blind date tomorrow is probably a tremendous mistake, but she’ll figure it out.
I feel the same affection and trust towards these idiots I’ve known for six hours as I do to some of my lifelong friends at home. I don’t know what magic was in this bubble of time but I’m here for it.
I start clearing up our discarded wine bottles and old plates of cheese. There are quite a lot. I can feel the mountain that is Rory behind me. I flip around with a half-drunk bottle and offer it to him. “Not too late for a nip there, Kilt.”
He shakes his head.
His blond hair is falling around his shoulders and his massive tree-trunk arms are crossed over his chest. Thor comes to mind. I should get him a hammer. Someone must have already done that. “Hey, does Zoe make you play superheroes in bed?”
He shakes his head, then a serious look falls over his face. He says, “I see you. And I’m not that observant of a person.”
I shake him off and turn back to loading my bag. I’ll miss these people, but I also like that they only get a piece of me. Rory’s stare makes me feel like he sees too much.
“The lady doth protest too much.” He steps closer.
I turn around, put my hands on my hips and roll my eyes. “About what? And don’t forget, I’m not much of a lady.”
“Kids.”
He knocks the wind out of me, and I can’t stop my emotions from climbing onto my face and into my eyes. Shit. I turn away to compose myself and tuck away my dirty secret.
He speaks again, “And you’re not drunk.”
I can handle that revelation. “No. When wine is what you teethe on, it takes enough to drown an elephant for me to get wine drunk. I could drink it all day long and still do something intricate and complicated at the end of the day.”
Rory scoffs and kinda cracks a smile, I can’t really tell.
“If you want to see all this crazy get drunk, pour me tequila. I can handle maybe one shot. Vodka, one cocktail and bourbon, now there’s a swift, warm and yummy drunk, but no. I’m not currently buzzed.”
“And you’re not pregnant.”
That’s a little harsher than the man realizes and I’m not sure how the hell he sees that, but ok. I’ll bite. His eyes are softened from his usually steely glare and there’s a kinship connection. His sincerity knocks me back and my suspicion is, no onereallyknows him either. I’m going to guess Zoe is pretty fucking fantastic and that Rory and Bax would get along a scary amount.
I grin and it comes out a little strained and sad. I’m honest this time. “I only do that for a month or so at a time. Then suddenly I’m not pregnant. Then there’s long stretches of needles, vitamins, acupuncture and odd Greek rituals performed by annoying cousins who think fertility is something that can be fixed. It can’t. We’re working on other things. I’m ok.”
