The Plight Before Christmas(72)

I pull my jaw from his grip. “Maybe instead of a lil talk, you might want to think about a lil nap?”

“You needs a man, Whitney?” He pounds his chest with his fist. “I’ll be your man. I cut the wood, make pantakes, build you a snowman e’ry day.” He fists a bundle of raw carrots from the second shelf, “with a fucking carrot nose, and it’ll be the bess one. You tink greasy hands would do that for you?” He shakes his head adamantly, nearly headbutting me as he leans in, his lips a breath away. “No, he would not.”

“Eli, you’re piss drunk,” I say, wrestling the victimized carrots from his palm and putting them back on the shelf.

“Maybe,” he sloppily bobs his head. “But I know what you mean.”

“I’m not sure you do.”

“I fucked your hand in the shower dis morning, for you.” He belts out his next words proudly, making me jump. “AND YESTERDAY!”

Eyes wide, I glance around and see we’re relatively safe from little ears. “Eli, maybe we shouldn’t be admitting this in the kitchen.” He leans in, grabbing the sides of the fridge doors for balance, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you still trim your pussy in a strip? I’m fucking dying to know. I loved the tickled of it on my gnose. I loved eating you.” He somehow manages to lick his lip seductively as heat climbs my spine. “I’m hungry now.” He lifts his chin with his next declaration. “I can make Tiny Tim come in sithy seconds.”

Unable to help my laugh, he proudly lifts one side of his mouth.

“Yep, you’re feelsing me,” he leans in. “Let’s go be alone.”

“I’m not sure you’re conveying what you really want to say.”

“I don’t care who knows.” He waves a dismissive hand. “They see how bad me want you.” He nods over his shoulder. “C’mon, gab the habenro sauze.”

“I’ll pass because that sounds pretty painful.”

His eyes rake over me. “You know what I can do?”

“I’m pretty sure your brain is telling you anything is possible right now.”

He stretches his arms out against the small cart island behind him. Shoulders hitched next to his ears, he manages to steady himself on the rolling cart and lifts his brows. “I’m going to give you a real man now. Vermy merry Christmas.”

“Yeah? Great. You seem to be the gift that keeps on giving.”

“S’go, baby, I got sorry to do, make you happy,” he says, again nodding over his shoulder toward the den just as the cart begins to roll.

By the time I reach him, he’s veering off and on the verge of more brain damage.

“Oh, shit,” Thatch says as he rushes to help me just before Eli wipes out. We manage to get him standing as Eli greets Thatch. “I’ve got this.” He nudges Thatch and nods my way as if he’s about to seal the deal with me, and Thatch chuckles. “How much did you drink, man?”

“Hey, Thatch,” Eli says as though seeing him for the first time as Thatch secures Eli’s arm around him, keeping him hoisted on his shoulder.

“Sup,” Thatch asks, the instilled patience due to fatherhood evident.

“Did you know Whitney tooks to me camp for the first time. Was my favorite time.” He looks over at me with an unguarded smile as that weekend replays in my head. It was three weeks before we broke up. Smore’s, reading books by firelight, disastrous fishing, fighting bugs, swimming naked in the lake, playing cards, making crazy love under the stars. My favorite part? The feeling of solidarity between us on the drive home, hands clasped the entire ride. I was more confident in us than I’ve ever been as he looked over at me with adoration in his eyes. Warmth fills my chest as he looks back to Thatch, blue eyes imploring. “Did she tell you bout that?”

“No, man, I think I missed that story.”

Eli’s expression falters. “She taught me how to feesh tat weekend. The only thing I caught was my thumb.” He chuckles and wiggles the thumb on the hand wrapped around Thatch’s collar to inspect it. “I didn’t know how ta dostuff like that back then, no time.”

I frown at his confession as my heart bleeds with his next one.

“She’s mad at me cause I wasn’t a good boyfriends to her, Thatch,” He shakes his head sadly. “I never danced with her. All she wanted was one slow dance, and I lef the bar cause I had a xiety attack,” he lowers his voice as Thatch hoists him up, and my heart physically cracks at that admission. I was a total bitch that night. “I didn’t know how todance, never,” he slurs, “until Evie taught me.”

Jealousy snakes its way in, intertwining with the growing ache in my chest. “She’s my best girlfriend. I can dance now,” he confesses in a whisper I believe he thinks only Thatch can hear as I duck beneath his other shoulder and wrap his arm around me. “But she doesn’t want te dance wisme no more, Thatch.”

Thatch looks over to me, and I avert my gaze as we walk Eli into the den and manage to deposit him on his back on the mattress. Turning to go, Eli grips my hand, wordlessly urging me to stay. I can barely make out his profile in the dark room as Thatch lingers uncomfortably next to us before speaking up. “I’ll go grab him a water and a few ibuprofen.”

“Good idea,” I nod as I stare back at Eli, who gazes up at me with unguarded affection. “Wasn’t all bad…Bee…,” he whispers his pet name for me, a name I never thought I would hear again, and I shake my head in agreement. But it’s the longing in his voice that has my heart seizing. “Remember…me? I casn’t forget you.”