Yes, I should listen to Vi. She lived and breathed badass.
Whatever you want.
Merry said that a lot.
To me and to my kid.
I stared at the tree.
Not only would it be awesome this year, it’d be even more awesome in the master suite next year. Our tree. Merry’s and mine.
Whatever you want.
“Bobbie gonna give me your discount?” I asked Vi.
“You’re buyin’ pink ornaments, aren’t you?” she asked back.
“Merry likes me to have what I want,” I told her.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “That’s why I have my new lavender bed set that Joe said he’d sleep on over his dead body. Then again, that’s also why Joe’s got his next kid in my womb.”
“Yeah,” I replied, feeling squishy she had that and now I did too. Decision made, I muttered, “This tree is gonna cost a mint.”
“I’ll call Bobbie. See what she can swing for you.”
“Thanks, Vi.”
“No probs, babe. See you later.”
“Later.”
I shoved my phone in my purse and moved to the baskets under the tree. I was filling my cart with boho Christmas when Bobbie wandered up to me.
She looked to the cart then to me. “Shit, I was gonna offer you thirty percent instead of Vi’s twenty-five, but you goin’ whole hog like that this late in the season, I’ll give you forty. Just tell ’em at the register you’re Vi’s friend and Bobbie says forty. They give you shit, make them page me.”
With that, she wandered away.
But I was grinning because forty was brilliant. It didn’t make this doable. I still had a grill to buy (housewarming). I also had a phone to buy (Merry’s screen was cracked and it drove me crazy in a way I didn’t know how it didn’t drive him crazy, so I was doing something about it, and what I was doing was for Christmas).
But for boho Christmas at Merry’s new lake house, for the first time since I’d clawed my way out from under it, I’d carry a balance on my credit card for a month (or two).
I’d also continue to cut back on the candy. The makeup was a wash since I was setting up my stash at Merry’s. Our first Christmas with Merry and spoiling my man, though, I’d sacrifice my candy.
Totally.
I got the tree stuff for me. I got the expensive lights for Merry. And I got some matching garlands to put on Merry’s mantel because, if you had a mantel at Christmas, it had to be decorated and I was pretty sure I could talk Merry into believing that.
But even I knew I was pushing it (but couldn’t stop myself) when I bought Christmas kitchen towels.
I was loading all of this in the back of the Equinox when I heard, “You do know you ruined my life.”
I stopped loading and looked to Mia Merrick, who was standing by my cart, holding a potted poinsettia curled in each arm.
Shit.
Why?
Really.
Why?
Why couldn’t I just have an excellent day?
A day where I woke up in Merry’s arms, my kid safe and snug and warm under his roof in his new awesome lake house that had new double-paned windows and a new furnace.
A day where Merry made us pancakes and teamed up with my kid to give me shit, which I would for eternity (if I had the shot) make them think annoyed me when I secretly loved every second of it.
A day where Merry said he wanted Christmas and he wanted us to move in with him.
A day where I could buy a bunch of Christmas crap that (best case) Merry was going to think was hilariously me or (worst case) Merry was going to hate. For the former, he’d just tease me, and if it was the latter, he’d still let me have what I want.
Why, from the parking lot of Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe, couldn’t I go to the grocery store, buy a tube of premade Christmas cookie dough (cookie dough was not candy, so it didn’t count) and some Pringles (because we were low), go home, make Christmas cookies for my boys, and decorate a tree my man (and maybe my kid) were gonna hate?
Why?
Why couldn’t all that just be without anything fucking with it?
“Mia, really, today’s been a good day and I’m not—” I started.
She got closer to me (something I liked even less than her being there at all) and cut me off. “Today’s been a good day? Has it, Cher? Has it been a good day for you? Well, how lucky you are. Because today and yesterday and the last three months have been shit for me…” Her face twisted before she finished, “Because of you.”
No wonder Merry scraped her off. She was a pain in the ass.
“If you think I’m lucky, babe, then—” I tried again.
I didn’t get far.
“Do I think you’re lucky?” she sniped. Her gaze cut inside my car and back to me, and her voice degenerated significantly when she asked, “Merry needs Christmas decorations for his new house?”
Okay, right.
I was done. I didn’t need this and I wasn’t going to have it.
So I was going to end it.
“If you’ve deluded yourself into thinking I’m the cause of all your problems, that’s your gig, Mia. It has nothing to do with me. Take it elsewhere,” I stated.
“Deluded?” she asked, coming even closer. “Isn’t it you who’s fucking my husband?”
“No. It’s me who’s fucking Garrett Merrick, who isn’t your husband. Now, step back,” I demanded.
She didn’t step back.
“He’ll come back to me,” she declared.
“Whatever,” I muttered, grabbed the handles of the last bag in the cart and put it into my car.