“Of course. I had a great childhood here. It’s all I know, except for when I was an hour away for college. Besides vacations, why would I want to leave here?”
“To experience new things?”
“That’s what those vacations are for. But home is comfortable, and I like comfortable.”
Well, then. Even if I did want to keep Beau around for longer than the holiday (which I don’t), he’s not going to be in New York. And I can’t move here; my life in is New York.
By the end of the day, we finish the tree, most of the cookies, and all of the rum.
“Sonia, do you want to put the star on the tree?” Eve asks.
I look around to see if anyone is mad that she offered it to me. “I couldn’t take that job from someone else.”
“No one here is as obsessed with Christmas as you, Baby Girl. You can do it.” Beau hands me the star.
“If no one cares.” I look at Annabelle to make sure she’s not glaring at me with the white-hot glare of a thousand burning Christmas lights. She’s chasing after her kids, who’re probably hopped up on the sugar that I gave them. Oops.
I climb on the back of their leather sectional so I can reach the top of the tree and add the finishing touch. Beau guides me back down, settling me next to him with a casual hand to my waist.
Reed comes home shortly after I put up the star, with some steaks that he grills. The rest of us prepare the sides and salad, as well as the dessert (more Christmas cookies that I volunteer to decorate before anyone else can claim them).
We have a nice dinner, every hour with the warm family making me more comfortable, despite my best intentions to remain aloof. Eve shares some more embarrassing stories of both of her children as the dinner entertainment, because she’s the best. Bubba and the kids know I’m the weak link, because all three set up shop around me at the dinner table, the rugrats getting actual seats and Bubba slobbering on my knee.
I smile at the children and they smile back, so I think we’re becoming friends. If children can make friends with adults instead of just long-conning them for candy. Not to be forgotten, Bubba sighs so deep he makes my napkin float back to me, so I slip him some steak after belatedly finding out that he is allowed the occasional people food.
Beau and Annabelle volunteer (aka are told by their mom) to do dishes, and I sip some more eggnog.
“Now that the choring is out of the way.” Annabelle races back into the living room after the dishes are done. “Let’s go to MacGregor’s tonight!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“What is MacGregor’s?” I ask in the silence.
Beau sits down, showing us all how willing he is to go out tonight. And then goes and confirms it with his words. “A bar. But why go out when we can get drunk with our mom?”
“Fine, you drink with Mom and my children, and I’ll drink with your big city girlfriend.”
Whoa, Nelly. And look how country I am already using horse terms in my head? “We haven’t really defined anything, as such.”
“Ow, your girlfriend doesn’t even claim you. You definitely need to get MacGregor’s drunk.”
Before Beau can offer any more reasons he can’t come, Annabelle is kissing her kids on the head and telling them to be good for Grandma and Paw-paw. Tucker follows her lead.
“Bye, Bubbykins. Have a good night and get lots of sleep.” I take his head in my hands, looking him in the eyes as I say the words, and then kiss his furry head, not wanting him to feel left out with the kids getting all the love.
“What’s the dress code for MacGregor’s? I have cocktail dresses, nice blouses and skinny jeans, heels, wedges...just let me know and I can change into whatever.” In my mind, I run through the clothes I dumped in my giant suitcases.
“Oh, darlin’, that’s the cutest thing you’ve said all night,” Annabelle says.
I purse my lips in confusion, tilting my head. Her words are all nice and the tone is kind of nice as well, I think, but somehow, I don’t think that sentence was complimentary.
“Did she just insult me?” I whisper to Beau out of the corner of my mouth.
“Yes. I think she avoided ‘Bless your heart’ because by now even you thick Yankees know that’s an insult,” he whispers back. Louder, he says, “What you have on now is fine. It’s a very low-key bar.”
“It doesn’t put on airs like a fancy city bar,” Annabelle says.
Why do people think they’re so nice down here? She’s smiling, but I’m getting mocked.
