Shameless(76)

His big palm rubs the stubble on his chin. Out of the blue, he says, “I hate leaving you guys.”

My heart thuds wildly in my chest until I realize he’s talking about heading off to work. Not about returning to Boston. Duh.

Forcing a smile, I whisper. “Gotta do what ya gotta do.”

When he puts the mug on the counter behind me, he pauses to kiss my forehead. “I have a guy who wants double sleeves, and even though we’re still finalizing his design, I’ll probably work on him until late, so don’t wait up.”

I want to tell him that I won’t. That despite our little chat about Shana Boobalicious a few nights ago, I’m trying really hard not to have any expectations. Which means I’ve been forcing myself to go to bed at a decent hour and not wait up for him. Because the word he used to describe us was ‘monogamous.’ Not ‘in a relationship’ or ‘committed’ or ‘in love.’ There’s a difference, and Brady’s a smart enough guy that I suspect he was very specific about his word choice.

I know I need to distance my heart. That phone call with his parents was the wake-up call I needed. Because a couple in a relationship would discuss the awkwardness that ensued after his mom brought up Dani. But we didn’t discuss it. In fact, he’s been uncomfortable around me all week.

Deep down, I realize I shouldn’t have jumped his bones the other night, but I missed him. Even now, even when he’s standing two feet away, I miss him so much my heart hurts.

I shake my head. “Before I forget, Mrs. Mac is watching the baby tomorrow evening so I can do some holiday shopping.” His head cants slightly, and I know what he’s thinking. It deflates me more. “Don’t worry. Santa’s getting you a big lump of coal.” He laughs nervously, and I motion toward the door. “You’re gonna be late. Have a good night at work.”

There’s no sense in us talking about how we shouldn’t buy each other anything, or if we do, how we shouldn’t spend a lot of money. I really don’t think I could handle that conversation right now. It’s five days until Christmas, and judging by the expression on his face, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t even thought about it.

That shouldn’t slay me. But it does.



The next day has me feeling even more bummed out. The kittens are adopted, and Brady gets called into work early. I was hoping we could decorate the Christmas tree together, but end up doing it by myself.

The silver lining is I finally found what I hope is the perfect present for Brady.

Behind the counter, the old woman folds the fabric and smiles broadly. “Would you like this gift wrapped, dear?”

“Yes, please.”

Her wrinkled hands tuck the fabric into a white box and then she lines it up on a large piece of textured red paper.

I stare at the impressive displays that line the walls. “Is this your shop?” I hoist the bag with gifts for my parents and sister a little higher.

“Yes, ma’am. Been doin’ this for forty years.”

“I can tell. Your designs are beautiful. They must be hard to part with.”

She nods and a deep sigh leaves her. “It helps when the customer loves them like I do. And I can tell this is for someone special.”

Suddenly, heat stings my eyes. “Yes. Very.”

She pats my hand. “Well, that makes it easier.”

I hope Brady and Izzy like it. The gift cost more than anything I own except my car, but I want to give them something meaningful, something that would remind them of their time here. So they’d know someone loves them. Because I do.

As I head to my car, which finally works thanks to Brady, I debate whether or not to call my parents. They’re going to ask me to come home for Christmas, and while I’d love nothing more than to visit for a few days, I’m worried that things are too weird between me and Brady for me to leave.

That sucks to admit. But our vibe has been so off this week, I’m not totally sure where we stand. Maybe that’s just insecurity talking. In some ways, life has gotten in the way. I’ve had to pick up more shifts this week because people keep calling in sick, and Brady’s job at night has stolen the little time we usually have to hang out.

I tuck my packages in the trunk as I debate what to do. I don’t need ESP to know my parents will flip if I simply mail home their gifts, but I’m not ready for the grand inquisition. And if leaving for a few days ends up straining whatever this is with Brady, I don’t know if I want to risk it.

Which sounds so desperate, I want to slap myself. Tontita.

I’m sitting in traffic when I see a billboard for Saints & Sinners Tattoo Parlor and realize I’m just a few blocks from Brady’s shop.

A few honks and one illegal turn later, I’m pulling up to a brick building with huge glass windows that are all lit up and shine brightly in the night.

But that’s not what why my mouth is hanging open.

That would be the enormous photo of Brady draped around a half-naked redhead that’s hanging in the window.

My stomach is mid-free fall when I realize that must be the image his mother mentioned on that Skype call last weekend.

It’s a stunning photo. All of the color has been stripped out except for her long, blood-red hair.

Wow. Dani is gorgeous.

And very, very topless.

Except you can’t see her boobs because they’re squished behind Brady’s arms, which are wrapped tightly around her.