“How was work?” I ask, trying to start a conversation.
“Hectic. A good distraction.”
“What movie are you going to watch?”
She finally turns to me, speaking with emphasis. “The Grinch.”
Is she sassing me right now, despite everything?
“Why do I feel like that has a double purpose?”
“Oh, really?” She murmurs, all innocence. “I’m not sure what you mean…”
“Yeah, right,” I say.
“What’s your grand theory then?”
“That maybe I’m the Grinch in your Christmas story.”
She laughs.Laughs. Hell, it’s a sweet sound. “I don’t know. You’re pretty grumpy, so there’s that.”
“Plenty to be grumpy about,” I say.
“Well–do you think there are any similarities?”
“Not sure. Never seen it.”
Her surface-level mask slips, and real shock punches through her shield. “You’ve never seen theGrinch?”
“Nope.”
“I mean the Jim Carrey version.How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The one everyone has seen.”
“Might come as a surprise, Sparkles, but Christmas movies have never been my thing.”
She sits up, looking at me with a challenge on her flawless face. “I think it’s time we changed that.”
What happened to you hating me? What happened to the resentment and the fear?
I know I should ask her this. I should break this spell. For her own good. For mine. For her brother’s. But I can’t. Because she’s making me forget who I am and what I’ve done and what I’ll have to do if we’re going to make it through this in one piece.
I think she reads my expression, something no other woman has ever accomplished. Not that I’ve given them much chance.
“Don’t,” she whispers.
“Don’t…”
“Don’t make it real,” she goes on. “My life is falling to pieces, and for a little while, I just want it to be Christmas, okay? Is that too much to ask?”
No. It’s not. She’s been through a lot.
“It looks like I’m going to pop myGrinchcherry tonight then.”
She laughs for the second time. It’s no less sweet. “Then it looks like we’re having a movie night.”
In a world of darkness and death, this is somehow the most surreal thing she could possibly say.
“Sounds like a plan, Evergreen.”
