When I broke away, I looked at Holly.
She was the most beautiful thing, the most beautiful person I’d seen in a long time. There was just something about her. Something sweet. And damn did I have a sweet tooth.
“I’ll go get the tree,” I grumbled, needing to put some distance between us before I said or worse, did something stupid.
“Okay. I might jump in the shower when Noelle’s finished if that’s okay?”
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold,” I replied, trying to keep things friendly.
As quick as I could, I bounced down the stairs, using the icy cold wind to cool my rising temperature at the thoughts of Holly, naked and wet in my bathroom.
Like I said. I was going to hell.
five
HOLLY
I love my daughter.
I love my daughter.
I had to keep repeating it to myself, reminding myself that I loved her before I strangled her with my own two hands!
I don’t know what had gotten into her, but Noelle was testing my patience and getting on my very last nerve.
I mean, I don’t know where she got this dramatic diva attitude from, but she could seriously shove it where the sun doesn’t shine at this point. Twenty minutes ago, she’d been complaining she was cold and was going to have a shower. That was only the start.
Since then, she’d cried because Chris’s apartment, the one he was so generously letting us stay in, didn't have a bathtub. And Noelle wanted a bath.
I’d tried to convince her she could shower, but she didn't want a shower. Then, after the stomping of her tiny feet, she finally conceded a shower was her best chance at warming up her frozen toes. But then, the tears came because I didn’t have a shower cap for her so her hairdidn’t get wet.
“Noelle,” I begged. “Please. Just get in the shower and warm up before you catch a cold.”
I was pleading with my daughter who was standing in the middle of Chris’s bedroom completely naked and whining that she was cold.
“But, Mom …” she whined.
“No! No, but mom, Noelle. Get in the shower and I’ll find your pajamas.”
“I’m not wearing pajamas!”
I don’t know if I was too afraid of another meltdown or just too exhausted to deal with it, so I picked my battles. And what she wore when she got out was one of them.
“Fine. Hurry up and have your shower then get dressed. Chris is getting the Christmas tree ready to decorate and you wanted to help. You can’t do that if you’re a frozen popsicle.” Thankfully that had her scurrying into the bathroom.
I followed her in, turned on the faucet, and waited for the water to heat up before making sure she actually got in.
Chris was surprisingly neat and tidy for a single guy, especially one who ended his day covered in grease and grime. His bathroom was all white tiles, with huge square charcoal tiles on the floor. A shaving cabinet was above the sink, and I resisted the urge to open it up and go through his things. He was being so kind, the least I could do was respect his privacy, even if curiosity was driving me to distraction.
With Noelle finally in the shower, singing Christmas carols like the past ten minutes hadn’t just happened, I stepped back into the bedroom.
I opened my suitcase and watched as everything fell out. I hated packing. It was the worst and I was the worst at it. I always left it to the last minute, then shoved in everything I thought I might possibly need before hoping it zipped up. Nowunderwear, a hair dryer, my makeup bag, and a black satin bag spilled all over the floor.
“Fuck my life,” I muttered as I tried to find something warm and comfortable to wear.
It didn’t take long for me to become so frustrated that my suitcase was now empty and everything was spread out all over Chris’s bedroom floor.
“Whoa!”
