The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,82
got in the spirit and decided to think it’s the money I make that I’m buying presents with and the money you gave me I’m paying bills with, and I’m not going crazy. But I get to participate in Christmas. So let’s end this here, okay?”
Toby was seriously down with her getting in the Christmas spirit however she wanted, so he shut up.
She picked up her thread. “I hit Macy’s to get some Christmas wrap, then the craft store to get some supplies. Made a few cards. Did some tidying of the house. Put in an application for a receptionist position at that law firm in town. They’re down with entry level and the pay isn’t gonna have me living the high life, but it’s pretty good, definitely better than what I’m making now, the hours will be steady, and if I get it, I can burn my smock. Took Brooks to Margot and Dave’s. Got ready to be fed at a fancy restaurant by my hot-guy, loaded boyfriend and then properly banged. And oh, Lora called, and she has an annual Christmas Eve’s Eve party every year and she invited us to come. If work doesn’t get in the way, do you wanna go?”
Toby was processing how she got all that shit done in one day.
He still managed to answer, “Yeah.”
“And just to say, Matlock Mart is closed Christmas Day and shuts down at six Christmas Eve, but since I’m one of the cashiers with the least time in, I might have to work the Christmas Eve shift until the bitter end.”
“It’s cool, babe,” he muttered.
“Okay, so, full disclosure about Christmas Eve. Izzy, Margot and I got into a text group, and even though all Margot and Dave’s boys and their families are coming to town, we decided to make a new tradition and we’re doing a safari dinner on Christmas Eve.”
“A what?”
“Drinks and appetizers at mine. Dinner at Johnny and Izzy’s. Dessert at Margot and Dave’s. It took us approximately fifty texts to talk Margot into doing dessert, but since most the party will be sleeping at their pad, we felt it should end there and not somewhere everyone has to drive home. Not to mention, she has to feed that brood Christmas dinner the next day.”
Toby said nothing because there was nothing to say. That made sense.
“Izzy’s doing a buffet,” she put in.
“Right.”
“And if I have to work, since I’m doing apps, I’ll get it all ready and you might have to come over and warm some stuff up and play host while I sort myself out when I get home, and then I’ll take over.”
“We could do that part at mine,” he offered.
“Then how would everyone see my kickass lights and hideous wreath?” she asked.
He grinned.
“Izzy’ll help you,” she told him. “And Margot no doubt will horn in.”
“It’ll be cool, Addie, I’ll have it covered and that sounds like a good time.”
“Yeah,” she said, but there was something not committed to that word.
“Babe, they’ll get it if you can’t do apps this year. We’ll do it at mine, you help me sort something out, you get off work, go home, do your thing, come to mine when you’re ready. I’ll have it handled and you don’t have to worry about it.”
“It’s not that, it’s . . .”
She trailed off and didn’t finish.
“It’s what?” he asked, glancing from the road to her.
When he looked back at the road, he felt her eyes come to him, “Do Margot and Dave’s kids come for Christmas every year?”
Margot and Dave’s sons were scattered. Mark, who was in Atlanta, lived relatively close, Lance and Dave Junior, respectively in Oregon and Minnesota, not as close. They were all married. They all had kids. They all came to visit their mom and dad on occasion.
But mostly it was Margot and Dave taking trips to go see them.
“Usually at least one of them are around, but no, it’s rare it’s all three. Why?”
She didn’t answer his question.
“Why, Addie?” he pushed.
“They were biting at each other when I dropped Brooks.”
“Margot and Dave bicker, Addie, you’ve seen them do that . . . a lot.”
“Thinking on it, it was different when they were over to help decorate,” she murmured like she was talking to herself. “They can bicker, but it’s cute. It seemed sharper and went on longer.”
“You think they’re having problems?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I just . . . nothing. I shouldn’t be saying anything. I don’t know them well enough.”