My phone pings, the indication that someone has driven onto my property, and I crawl out from under my cocoon. I wait for the app to pull up and strain my eyes to get a good look at the car. But when I see the unmistakable silver BMW with, what I call, the fat grill, I know exactly who it is.
I don’t move a muscle for fear that she’ll be able to sense that I’m here. I won’t give her the chance to fool me, again. Her promises mean very little to me anymore.
The doorbell rings and it’s followed by a knock. Not a pounding like she’s here to break down the door, but a tap just loud enough to emphasize that she wants to come in. But that is one thing she will not be doing. She can wait all night, but I’m not even going to let her see my face much less enter this house.
She rings and knocks once more, which I don’t acknowledge. Seconds later my phone is ringing, her name lighting up the screen. I press the button on the side and send it straight to voicemail. She then sends me a text, obviously realizing that speaking with me will not be happening.
I blink and focus on the text, reading it over a couple times.
Cat: I get the hint. You don’t want to talk to me. I left something for you on your porch. I hope you like it. Xxx
I click over to the app again and wait until I see her car fade out of view before deciding to get up and retrieve whatever it is she left for me. I crack my door open and peek outside in case she’s waiting to ambush me and…I don’t know. Break my heart all over again?
I see a box on the welcome mat and carefully pick it up. What if it’s one of the bait boxes and the damn thing is about toexplode in my face with blue powder and fucking glitter? I’ll take my chances because my curiosity is peaked.
I shut and lock the door then slink back to my room. I flip on the lamp and sit the box down on my bed, staring at it nervously. It’s a nondescript black box so it could be anything from a cake to a 3D print out of her throwing me the finger.
“Just open the fucking thing,” I tell myself out loud.
With a deep breath I pull the lid off and with one eye closed, look in. Slowly I lift the lid of my cautious eye and scrunch my brows. A large bag of Jolly Ranchers sits in a bed of tissue paper, tied with a bow and a note.
To my Jolly Rancher-
I’m an idiot. I was inconsiderate and selfish and owe you so much more than a simple apology. Say you’ll let me make this right?
Xxx
Your scaredy Cat
The corner of my mouth twitches but I quickly bite my cheek, taking away the ability to smile. I’m not ready to smile where she’s concerned. Who knows when orifI’ll ever be ready.
I put the lid back on the box and set it down on the floor before resuming my previously assumed position. Meaning, I creeped back into my hole and tried to pretend this didn’t happen. Pretending doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a little sugar fix, though.
I hang over the side of the bed, riffle through the box and grab a handful of candy, then pull my turtle shell over my head. Maybe these will make me feel more jolly.
19
CATHIA
Well…the candy didn’t work. Not that I thought he’d fall into my arms over a bag of candy, but I thought it would at least be the opening I needed to talk to him. But, since it didn’t work, on to phase two.
I still haven’t told anyone other than Bishop about us, but that is something for the two of us to announce to the group. As a couple.
I look at myself in the rearview mirror and adjust my hat. My hair is in those perfect late 70’s Farrah Fawcett type waves, and I’ve got on the tightest jeans I could manage to squeeze into. As thirsty as I am, I don’t think even a drop of water will make it to my belly. These suckers are millimeters away from being jammed up my hoohaa. It only takes the smallest amount of bloat for the entire camel to be showing.
Cami and Vaughan are out this afternoon having their monthly check-up on my nephew that she’s got cookin’ inside of her, so other than Hayes, the ranch is empty today. It’s the last day of school before the Christmas break, so I’ve got a few morehours before they descend on the McCallan Ranch for the annual ranch party. So I know Hayes is busy setting things up.
I step out and my boots crunch along the gravel.Jesus Lordgive me the strength because walking is a task. If anyone is ever in the market for some compression pants, I should give them the name of these jeans. I tug my suede jacket closer to my body when a cool breeze picks up, and I speed up my steps to reach my destination.
Off in the distance I see Hayes stacking some hay bales from their flatbed that sit around a large hole that was dug for the fire pit later this evening. The ranch has activities spread out all around the ranch. Much like the ones we’ve been playing over the past few weekends, but these are geared specifically for the kids.
The archery targets are covered with reindeer paper and the goal is to put the nose on Rudolph. There are tables set up with craft supplies allowing the kids to make their own ornaments, a movie screen that will play a Christmas movie once the sun goes down, the arena is set up with a calf dummy with fake antlers and a red nose to have the kids do some fun roping with tinsel (there’s no way any of them are roping anything, but it’s fun), food and cookie decorating that will take place under a tent, and a small train they’ve assembled using old barrels. The night will end with s’mores making and by that time, we will all be thoroughly exhausted.
Oh, did I mention all the Mag Creek crew got roped into this? Cami and Vaughan were very sweet in telling us we would be helping. All the more reason to get this over with so I can run in and change and be back out here like nothing ever happened.
Hayes sees me and stops midway through stacking the last hay bale. His eyes grow large as I approach and he drops the bale haphazardly. I bite my bottom lip to contain the giddy smile on my face. Butterflies swirl in my belly and my hands, despite howcold it is, begin to sweat. I calm my quivering, take a deep breath and go for it.
“Howdy cowboy.” I try to make my voice low and seductive but my teeth are starting to chatter.
