Claire’s eyes are wide, and she stares at me. “I don’t think she’s going away,” she whispers.
I grasp the bridge of my nose and add pressure. I’ve only had one drink tonight, and that was hours ago. I’m not intoxicated enough to want to hold a conversation with my ex, but there isn’t enough liquor in the world that would make me want that. I know how this conversation will go without even starting it. She’ll talk over me, control the narrative, and expect me to agree. I won’t allow her antics to ruin my good time.
“No. I don’t care. I’m not doin’ this.” I put the truck in reverse, and Lacy stumbles back as I put the truck in gear and drive away.
I glance at Claire; she’s beaming. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of me, too.” I tap my palm against the steering wheel, singing with the Christmas music on the radio as Claire sits beside me with her hand on my thigh. I’m turning over a new leaf and protecting my boundaries, the same ones I’d allowed Lacy to decimate before.
For years, I did whatever I could to make her happy, to make her want me more, to be the perfect man. It wasn’t enough because she was never in love with me, just the idea of me. It’s why our relationship never progressed to the next level, and why she refused to commit. I’d have married that woman, but I’m grateful I didn’t.
When I turn onto the road that leads to the cabin and we drive under the worn sign for the farm, I make a promise to myself to repaint it.
We park in front of my place, and I open Claire’s door. Once we’re inside, I turn to her. “You know what you’ve helped me realize?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t have to give away my joy and be miserable to make someone happy. It’s not a barter system or an exchange.”
“You’re right,” she says. “Your boundaries matter. You matter.”
I lift her chin with my finger, and her baby blues meet mine. “I have you to thank for that.”
“No, JJ. You learned that through heartache. I can’t take credit.”
I kiss her softly, and we walk inside. I glance over where our gingerbread house is waiting. “Want to finish decorating?”
She returns my smile with one of her own. “I thought you’d never ask. But I want more moonshine.”
“Your wish is my command.” I pull the bottle from the fridge and remove the top. “Want a glass?”
She shakes her head and drinks it straight. “Mm. So good. Now, let’s get to decorating this house.”
I wash my hands and make more icing, then hand the bag with the tip to Claire and grab jars of candy from my pantry.
“This icing is a little bit different from the other stuff.”
She dips her finger in the bowl, and her eyes widen as she tastes it. “Mm.”
I chuckle, kissing her. “Now, what I like to do is outline the doors and windows, then add candy to it. But there are zero rules, so go to town.”
She gives me a look.
“It means to do whatever you want,” I clarify, chuckling. “Like have fun.”
“More slang to add to my Texas lexicon.” She winks, then takes a small sip of the booze before doing precisely that. “You owe me gingerbread cookies.”
“You’re right.” I take the extra dough from the fridge and roll it into small balls before smashing them on a cookie sheet. As the oven preheats, I grab the moonshine and take a sip. It burns going down, but I know if I keep drinking, it won’t. I place my back against the counter and face Claire as she outlines the roof and side walls with icing. Every few minutes, she dips her finger in the bowl and steals a taste.
“When the cookies are ready, we’ll decorate them, too.”
“I can’t wait,” she says.
I love seeing her happy and carefree. The woman standing in front of me isn’t the same one who was trekking her ass to Merryville, refusing to get in my truck. This is the version of Claire I adore.
“What?” She grabs a few candies from the jar and presses them against the icing line she made around the door.
I shake my head. “Nothin’. Just admiring you.”