Page 32 of Once Upon A Christmas Song

I wanted to punch him, though. Really, really hard.

“Chris,” he said gruffly, voice going out on him. “Is there…”

“No, there’s no one else,” I barked, fists clenched, slipping around him, mad at myself that I couldn’t even lie to him. “But I really wish there was.”

In moments, he was back at my side as I charged down the long sidewalk lining the enormous curved drive.

“I’m so relieved,” he told me. “And so very thankful.”

“That doesn’t mean I trust you to stick around even a little,” I said snidely. “Because we know how well that turned out the last time.”

“Would you feel better if you punched me?”

That was the thing with someone who knew you—they could say the things that were in your head.

“Why don’t we stop, and you can gimme a good one right in the gut.”

“Do not placate me,” I warned him. “You have no idea how pissed off I am.”

“I would never placate you unless we were playing,” he said softly, “and I know you’re mad. As I said earlier, you have every right.”

“I don’t need permission to be mad,” I snarled at him.

“I know,” he rushed out. “I just meant that I get why you’re mad, and you have my permission to beat me up.”

I said nothing.

“But I do need my face, my mouth, to sing, so…how about the bicep?”

“Stop talking,” I ordered him.

“No problem. Shutting up now.”

I ignored him, walking faster, having this sudden urge to run but keeping my stride brisk instead.

As I got closer to the front of the school, though, I noticed that Cami was not where she normally was, sitting on the granite steps that led into the administration building. Second, everyone was carrying gifts, bags, many with empty pans, and many kids had candy canes sticking out of their mouths.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumbled, pulling my phone from my back pocket. The phone rang three times before Georgine answered.

“What?” she snapped. “I’m working.”

“Did you neglect to tell me that this is the last day before Christmas break?”

A couple of beats of silence went by. “Wait. Is that right?”

“I’m going with yes.”

“Oh shit! I forgot all about that because she slept at her grandmother’s last night. I had to be up early to get to the fish market this morning.”

“She had all her gifts for her friends, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“So you forgot it was the last day, but you remembered the gifts?”

“Listen, motherhood is an unholy balance between being on top of some things and under others. My memory is highly selective. I can remember to send her with gifts and not remember that you will be playing the role of her sherpa today.”

“That’s great. We’re supposed to stop for food. I’m starving.”