The Plight Before Christmas(95)

“The past hurts, huh?” I sniff, marveling at my little man and his hammered in truth.

“Mep,” Peyton says, pat patting my face.

I can’t help my laugh as I shake my head. “Out of the mouth of babes.” I squeeze him as he tries to wiggle free. “I love you sooooo much, Pey Pey. So much. Forever and ever.”

“Soooo much,” he nods.

“Want to make Rudolph some cookies?”

“Mep.” He immediately leaps from my lap when I release him.

“Up?” I offer.

“I do it,” Peyton insists, heading for the door.

“Oh, please don’t claim your independence just yet, kid. I don’t think I can handle it today.”

“Comere,” he insists, already at the door. “We go. Mere!”

“Yes, sir,” I follow.





“Thanks so much for your help, man,” Thatch says as I tighten the last bolt with the Allen wrench.

“No problem,” I step back and admire my handy work on Gracie’s glittery neon pink bike. “They’re going to go nuts.”

“Hope so.” Thatch flashes me his first genuine smile since we hit the garage. When we started unloading the bike parts from the boxes, I tested the waters to see if he wanted to vent and carefully read the room. He didn’t. So, together we worked diligently, making small talk, and managed to get both bikes assembled in record time. I flick the fire-colored tassels on Peyton’s new tricycle as Thatch gathers the packaging and trashes it. “This is perfect. It suits him.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“Wonder what happened to Brenden,” I ask, eyeing the box sitting in the corner that holds Conner’s bike. “Should we get started without him?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Thatch grabs the box as Brenden enters the side door of the garage, and we both glance over to see him looking completely lost, his expression pained.

“Shit, what’s wrong?” Thatch asks.

“I’m an idiot,” Brenden mutters. “Let’s leave it at that.”

Brenden grabs the box from Thatch and rips it open, commercial staples and all, and Thatch’s eyes bulge.

“Dude,” Thatch steps forward and lays a hand on Brenden’s shoulder. “Why don’t you take a breath. I don’t think the bike is safe from you right now. How about we step back a minute?”

“I’m good,” Brenden snaps, “let’s just get this done.”

“The fuck you are, you’re hulking out,” Thatch says, reaching for the box just as I step up to Brenden.

“Let me unpack it for you, all right?”

Brenden nods, relinquishing the box to me before running his hands through his hair, eyes glazing over.

“All right, man,” Thatch says, “it’s your turn. What’s going on?”

“My wife is fucking miserable in Charlotte. She’s miserable, and it’s my fault. I made the decision to start Networth and move us there without realizing how much it would affect her. That’s because I thought it’s just a drive, right? If she got homesick, we’d just drive to Nashville, and it would tide her over, but that’s not how it’s played out. While I’ve been obsessed with the startup, my wife has been at home crying. Alone, missing her parents, her friends, and I haven’t been there for her. She’s been hiding it from me. So yeah…fuck!” He picks up something within reach and tosses it across the garage before clasping his hands on top of his head. “I feel so fucking bad, and I have no idea how to remedy this.”

“You had to have suspected,” Thatch says.

“I mean, yeah, but I just figured she’d adjust.” His voice is laced with guilt when he poses his question to Thatch. “Could you tell she was miserable?”

“I mean, not really, but Erin’s hard to read because she’s so laid back.” Thatch shrugs. “Not that I’m an expert.”

Pulling the plastic away from the frame of Conner’s bike, I lay it out on the small worktop before I start lining the rest of the parts up.

“I swear to God I didn’t think…no that’s bullshit. Maybe I didn’t want to see it. I don’t know, but there’s no way I can’t see it now. This is so fucked.”

Tearing open the plastic bag full of screws, I line them up before flipping through the instruction manual as they chatter at my back.

“I wish I knew what to tell you, brother. It’s been a real shit show lately between Serena and me. I’m kind of lost on what to do myself.”

Satisfied with the setup, I grab my wrench and turn back to address them both before I bite my bleeding tongue off.

“Brenden,” I belt sharply as they both stop and divert their attention to me. “Move your family back to Nashville and travel for scheduled meetings with the high-profile clients. It’s fucking 2021, you can work from anywhere, and you’re the boss. While you’re getting settled in, I’m more than capable of doing the handholding temporarily in Charlotte until you can start the commute.”

I divert my attention to Thatch.

“Thatch, Serena is dying for some intimate attention, a real connection with you. Not a playful butt slap or a backward compliment. She needs some semblance of romance back in the marriage. I’m about ninety percent positive she was attempting to give you a blow job, and unknowingly, you rejected her. That’s why she was crying in the store the day you two had your blowout. It was an attempt to get your attention in a sexual way so she could talk to you and tell you she misses the intimacy between the two of you. When that backfired, it broke her heart.”