And just in time to save me.
“Like I said,” I babbled to Brody as he glared at Matt, “I have another event tonight.”
46
Matt
Merrie seemed out of sorts as we walked down the street, leaving Brody in the dark behind us. She wasn’t her usual bubbly self. She held her enormous platter of food in a death grip.
Maybe she was mad you interrupted. Maybe she really isn’t interested in you and wants Brody instead.
The thought sat sourly inside of me.
“Did I interrupt something?” I finally asked.
“Nope,” she replied.
We walked a few more blocks in silence.
“You don’t have to stay with me,” I told her when we reached my building.
She looked up at me under her eyelashes.
“I’d like to, if that’s okay. Besides”—she hefted the platter of food—“I need to share all this food with someone.”
“I’m sure Kringle would help you out,” I said dryly as the large St. Bernard drooled at us. “Did you make that?” I nodded at the platter.
“Gosh, no. It’s from the Christmas potluck extravaganza at my mom’s house.”
I relaxed. So that was what she was doing there. Maybe Brody was harassing her.
She seemed to relax as we rode up the elevator, and I escorted her into my condo. I poured her a drink while she put the platter of food in the microwave.
“I don’t know why the holidays have to be so complicated,” she said.
“No shit.”
The microwaved beeped, and Merrie took out the platter of food and grabbed two forks. She sat down on the floor with the food on the coffee table. Kringle sat next to me and breathed on me. Merrie tapped the remote, and the movieElfcame up on the screen.
“Sorry,” she said, handing me a fork, “I only brought one plate of food.”
I frowned. “I thought you ran out there with a whole serving dish,” I said.
Merrie frowned. “This is a special Christmas plate, not a platter.”
I looked down at the mountain of food on the huge round plate.
Merrie swiped a piece of turkey in the river of gravy.
“You’re used to those Manhattan meals where you pay fifty dollars and get a dab of sauce and a piece of steak the size of a half-dollar,” she said. “This is wholesome small-town fare. You’re required to eat your weight in food or people think you’re rude.”
She stabbed at a fried brussels sprout. “I’m sure everyone at the party is annoyed that I left.”
Her phone chimed. She looked at it. “Yep.”
I leaned back on my elbow, legs stretched in front of me. “Why did you leave?”
“My family is a mess,” she said, not looking at me. “My parents hate each other, and my mom went off the deep end. She has all these cats, and she’s into paganism, and she and all her friends hold séances during the new moon to try to curse my father. And now she—well never mind. You don’t want to hear all my family drama.”
