Page 77 of Playing the Backbeat

“You did great,” she adds reluctantly, but I catch the smile pulling at her mouth.

“Thanks, so did you.” I drop a kiss to her full lips then pull her closer. “What are you doing tomorrow, and the day after, for Christmas and Christmas Eve?” I ask.

“I drive home Christmas morning—less traffic that way. My family always celebrates with a big dinner on Christmas Day. You?”

“My parents love Christmas Eve. They host every year.”

She sits up on her elbow, her brows drawn together. “Why don’t you sound excited?”

I drape my arm over my face, but Dee refuses to let me hide.

“No way. You’ve already seen my family in all their glory. Spill.”

I sigh. “I told my family this was the year I’d be making an offer on the Bridge. That was before I knew Ed had plans to screw me over. They were so excited. They told myentirefamily. Even mentioned how maybe we’d be celebrating the big news at the holidays this year.” I shrug. “It feels like I’ve let them down.”

“I doubt your family cares. From what you’ve said over the years, they’re incredibly supportive. What about this situation could possibly change that?”

“Nothing.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “You’re right.”

She lies down, still tucked into my side. She waits a moment, softly rubbing her thumb along my stomach before asking, “Do you think you’re worried about how they’ll react, or are youdreading having to talk about it at all? Is it the saying-it-out-loud part that sucks?”

I clear my throat, trying to ignore the burn behind my eyes.

“It’s been my dream for a long time. I’ve been saving…planning ever since I started working there during my sophomore year of college. If it doesn’t work out, I don’t know what’s next.”

“Did you ever think that maybe being a little lost at sea might lead you somewhere exciting?” she asks.

Goddammit, she’s quoting me. Throwing my advice back in my face. I can’t even be mad.

“That was different,” I say.

“How exactly?”

“We were talking aboutyou.”

She laughs, and I feel her body shaking next to mine. Even when things feel heavy, it’s impossible not to smile around this woman.

“Ah. I see. You’re right. That is very different.I’mthe only one who’s allowed to have a career crisis. You get to be all doom and gloom and I have to maintain my prim and proper disposition.”

I throw a look her way. She stares back, feigning innocence.

“Youdoom and gloomedfor six straight hours on the couch. Need I remind you how much popcorn was in your hair after yourSurvivormarathon?”

“Need I remind you I was loading up on fiberfor my health?”

We burst out laughing, and it’s a few minutes before we calm down again.

“You look good with popcorn in your hair.”

“You look good naked.” I must look surprised, because she gets defensive. “What? You do!”

“I knew you just wanted me for my body. Not my breakdowns. It’s my turn. Don’t you thinkI’lllook good with popcorn in my hair?”

“Haven’t seen it yet. I’m still waiting for you to flip onAntiques Roadshowso I can call in the cavalry. But I’m sure the sight is divine,” she muses, playing with the long strands around my shoulders.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a beautiful woman naked next to me.”

Her fingers still, and the look she gives me feels as weighted as we both know it is.