Almost instantaneously, my mind believes Meirna is gone.
That she changed her mind, left, and called Bobby, but the soft clink of metal against metal proves to my head that she didn’t.
That her little fuck around with me earlier was just to prompt my actions to see how crazy I’d get.
The thing is, she didn’t take it far enough.
She didn’t step into the lobby.
She didn’t call him.
She didn’t search for him.
She didn’t attempt to get into a car with him because that’s when I would’ve finally snapped and made a move, forcing her here.
Meirna and Bobby are finished, as far as I’m concerned.
Do I think she’ll see him again? Yes.
My brother is far from done with getting it through his headthat Meirna isn’t his ticket anymore to solve his problems, image, or serve as some sort of protection.
Bobby is going to seek her out.
And I know damn well that I can’t be at her side twenty-four-seven to make sure that doesn’t happen. Plus, as much as I don’t like it, Meirna needs closure face-to-face.
I’m just hoping she bitch-slaps him in the process of obtaining that closure and that I can bear witness to it.
“Here—” A body suddenly plops down and wedges me into the couch when I open my eyes again and discover Meirna sitting on the couch beside me— “you have to try this. I had to redo it because the first time didn’t rise the way I wanted to, but your life is about to change. And I have to be here when it does.”
It’s two in the morning.
That’s the first thing my brain registers again and, as I blink several times, Meirna has flour-prints on her rosy cheeks, her curly hair thrown up in a messy bun, and her light brown eyes full of excitement.
I’m not big into sweets, but I have a feeling I’d better become one who does. Especially if she gets this enthusiastic over Christmas cookies.
“What is it?” I croak through sleep, slowly pushing myself up onto my elbows.
“It’s called a Kringle Danish.”
“A what?”
“Kringle Danish,” she explains again, rising to her feet so that I can sit all the way up. “It’s a buttery pastry that tastes like Christmas magic.”
Christmas magic would be her sitting on my face to wake me up, but I tiredly sit up, am offered whatever the hell she called it before I gingerly wrap my fingers around her wrist and into my lap.
Meirna doesn’t pull away but adjusts herself there, tucking herlegs along my thighs, then practically shoves her new creation near my lips.
Opening them, I obediently take a bite, immediately tasting a sweet glaze with a nutty, rich flavor.
Chewing, I get the taste of almonds, pecans, and walnuts, and freeze.
I didn’t buy her nuts to go along with the cookies.
Glancing down at what she made, a white glaze is on top, sprinkled with said nuts and inside the almonds.
“Where did you get these?”
Meirna reads my mind because she says, “Alexander got them for me. Is that his name? I thought that’s what you said it was.”
