Page 30 of Christmas By Design

It only takes one more bite to finish of the cookie. “I mean, I could use a hot shower after sleeping on the floor of a freezing cold house,” I grumble around my mouthful.

“Mmm,” she hums, unconvinced. “You seem more off than that.” She tilts her head as she studies me for a moment. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with that handsome man who brought you home, would it?”

I just about choke on the cookie. “What? No.” Nova peels her head off my shoulder to look at me. She can’t possibly understand the question, but her wide eyes are soaking in the conversation, nonetheless. I cough to dislodge the crumbs from my throat. “No, Mom. I’m tired, that’s all. Sleeping on a hardwood floor in front of a fireplace isn’t as cozy as it sounds.”

“Mmm,” Mom hums again. She clearly doesn’t believe me, but she’s quiet for a minute as she presses two more trees onto the cookie sheet. “You should have invited him in for a bit.”

She can’t help herself from adding that last bit. She wants me to have a partner because she knows I want that, too. I have ever since I met Nova’s father. I really did think he and I would be together forever, but the idea of a baby was too much for him. He left, and I don’t know where he went. Haven’t heard from him since. Dodged a bullet there, it seems. But even if the bullet didn’t hit, it still left a hole.

If only it were as easy as inviting Beckett in. Letting white-walls-and-clean-lines Beckett into this mess would have been a terrible idea. The man can’t even handle a teal refrigerator; I’m sure being covered in flour by a toddler at the same time as meeting my parents would have been a disaster. It was for the best that he said no.

Still, my heart hurts a little. “I did,” I mumble. Mom’s eyebrows shoot up slightly as I clear my throat. “He had things to do.”

Mom nods silently, and if she knows I’m lying, she doesn’t show it. In fact, she doesn’t say anything more about it. She just brushes her hands on her apron and joins me at the table. She reaches out for Nova, who grips me even harder, having sensed she’s about to get pulled away.

“Come on, Star-baby. Let Mommy go so she can shower.” My mom gently tries to pry Nova from me, but she’s got her pudgy little arms wrapped so tightly around my neck that I can barely breathe.

“Why don’t you and Grammy get some sprinkles on those cookies so we can bake them for Santa?” I ask, rubbing her back.

“No.” The word is high-pitched and staccato, leaving no room for argument.

I squeeze her a bit tighter. “I know. I missed you too, baby. But I stink.”

Nova’s head pops off my shoulder again. She sniffs a few times, then wrinkles her nose and giggles. “Yucky Mommy.”

I boop her nose with my pointer finger, and she laughs again. “Go with Grammy and get the cookies ready, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She reluctantly lets my mom take her. They start singing an off-key and, frankly, unrecognizable Christmas carol, and she’s laughing in no time.

Maybe, after a shower, I’ll have cleaned Beckett’s rosemary scent off of me, and I’ll be able to laugh through Christmas Eve, too.

Chapter 19

Beckett

Book, brandy, cat. That’s what I want. It’s what I do every Christmas Eve.

I repeat it to myself like a mantra as I retrace the route from Gemma’s parents’ house back to the highway. As if repetition could make it so.

In true suburban fashion, there is a giant mall just before the entrance to the highway. Sitting at the stoplight, I watch as last-minute shoppers crowd the parking lots and wonder if Gemma will be able to sneak away to buy Nova a present.

One of the anchor stores is a bookstore. Seeing it reminds me that I, too, didn’t get a chance to get to the store and buy myself a book for the evening. I always buy myself a special new hardcover to crack open on Christmas Eve, but I’ve been so busy with the Dash house that I hadn’t gotten around to selecting one. From the families walking in and out of the store, it looks like they’re still open. I might as well stop here since there’s no guarantee I’ll make it back to my local bookstore before they close for the holiday. Grumbling, I signal and pull into the turn lane.

When I push open the large, oak doors at the entrance, I’m greeted by the warm, vanilla-and-almond smell of new books. I veer straight for the table of new-release hardcovers. With any luck, I’ll find something quickly, and then I can be on my way.

But what catches my eye isn’t the hardcover books. It’s the table next to them that’s full of overpriced, impulse-buy toys set out for shoppers to grab for the kids on their way to the checkout.

Gemma was heartbroken about not having a gift for her daughter. There’s no way she’s going to be able to sneak away to get one this afternoon. The stores close soon, and she won’t want to leave Nova, anyway.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the baby doll from the middle of the table and carry it under my arm to the checkout.

It isn’t until I’m pulling out of the parking lot and turning left, back toward Gemma’s house, that I realize I never bothered to pick out a book.

Chapter 20

Gemma

Once I finally make it to the shower, I let the hot water roll over my shoulders until my fingers are prunes. We kept warm enough in the Dash house—even when we weren’t engaged in any heated activities—but there’s something chilling me down to my bones that I don’t think has anything to do with the cold December air. And, sure, I feel pretty shitty about telling Nova I’ll be back in a few minutes and then spending at least thirty in the shower, but she’s okay. She missed me, but she was fine all night without me.