His excitement makes me smirk.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” I pull Bree out of a conversation with one of my cousins. “Let me introduce you properly. Dad, this is Aubree Baker, Lincoln Baker’s niece.”
He scrubs his five o’clock shadow. “TheeLincoln Baker?”
“Yes,” Bree confirms with a giggle. “ I have a lot of game tickets; I hate sports—”
Dad cuts in. “Hot damn. I approve this union! Honey, where’s that wedding scrapbook you’ve been dying to use? I’ll plan the damn thing myself.”
Normally, I’d glare at one of my parents for making such a statement, but my dad’s excitement makes me happy.
“I take it, you’re a fan?” she jokes with a laugh.
“Darling, you can sit in my chair, and I don’t even give my wife the privilege.”
He collects us in a bear hug, before he rushes off, while calling the rest of the family ‘losers.’ The joy in Bree’s eyes, tells me, I did the right thing.
“I just might have to give you extra tickets,” she whispers, before wandering off.
“Where do you think you’re going?” My mom challenges Bree when she returns with her things.
“Home?” Her response sounds like a question because my mom’s demeanor is challenging. “If Jason and Matt are leaving, he’d have to drop me off.”
“Like hell. You’re staying here with the family.”
“Mom,” I start, but she shushes me.
Bree’s expression says, ‘That where you get if from.’
“I doubt you have plans. Plus, you and Jason have to add his ornaments to his tree.”
I try not to cringe at the reminder of having to pull out all my homemade ornaments I’ve made over the years. “Let’s get this over with.”
Like almost any woman, Bree coos over my broken candy canes, the clay bullshit that’s supposed to resemble a tree with a snaggletooth version of me pasted to the front, and let’s not forget the drunk reindeer made out of clothes pins. Those are classic.
The smile Bree has the entire time is worth the bullshit. Besides, my dad soon returns wearing all the football gear he owns while smiling like hustler who just found a new mark.
I squeeze Bree’s hand and assure her I’ll return. My family starts their ‘kiss the girl’ campaign along with the chant. I shut it down by telling them to kiss my ass while Bree giggles at my lunacy. It earns me another hit from my mother, but it was worth it.
17
Bree
It’s not long after they leave that dinner is served—pizza and salad—and Bridgett informs me that not only am I remaining at her house, but I’m spending the night. She gives me an oversized sleep shirt and shows me to Jason’s old room.
She waited in the hallway while I changed. Unlike other mothers, she didn’t preserve his teenage décor. While it is disappointing, I am happy to climb into a queen size bed that doesn’t squeak and is comfortable as hell.
Once I’m settled, she returns with cookies, cashew milk, and a photo album. I look at all the adorable and embarrassing photos of Jason, and his sister, while she brags about her babies. We eventually discuss my lack of parents, and after a good cry, return to the lighter topics.
By the time I’m finished giggling at ‘Ollie’s’ hairstyle for prom, I find my eyes drooping. Bridget is gone after another bear hug.
I drift into a content sleep in the quiet, dark room.
* * *
Bree
I don’t know how long I’ve been sleep, but I know it’s late. The night is still, and the moon is high. I wonder for a moment what awakened me until I feel Jason move behind me in the bed.
