Shameless(78)

Holy shit.

A fully decorated Christmas tree sits in the corner. With little glass ornaments, twinkle lights, and shimmery little angels.

I blow out a breath. Kat must’ve done this after I went to work yesterday.

Pulling out my phone, I glance at the date.

Well, damn. Christmas is in two days.

I press my palms into my eyes as panic sets in. The holidays are honestly the last thing on my mind, but maybe I need to slow down and put a little effort into this for Izzy’s sake. She might not remember opening gifts, but some day I can show her pictures, and maybe that will be meaningful for her.

This is the year she lost her parents, *. Of course it’ll be meaningful.

As always, Katherine is ten steps ahead of me. I hardly know which way my sorry ass is headed, but she just gets what needs to be done and keeps me afloat.

I’m supposed to work tonight and tomorrow, but as I stare at the tree, I’m wondering if that’s the right thing to do. Each night I miss Kat and Izzy like I left my f*cking lungs at home.

I’ve been vacillating between wanting to give Kat a holiday bonus and buying her a present. She might need the money, but I have a sneaking suspicion she’ll think I’m a dick if I hand her a check. I really want to buy her something nice, but I wonder if that would send the wrong message.

Fuck it.

I pick up the phone. For once, I’m not going to overthink this. I’m going to give her the gift. Because even if we’re in this weird limbo place, I think of her as my friend. My best friend, actually. And I want her to know that she means something to me.

Ten minutes later, I’m feeling a little better about life. I sit next to Izzy, who mashes a banana all over her face.

“You know this is supposed to go in your mouth?”

“In yo mowth!” she giggles before she tosses her sippy cup onto the floor where the lid pops off and juice goes everywhere.

I stare at the juice puddle as it spreads.

Yeah, this parent stuff is definitely not as easy as my mom and dad made it seem growing up.

After I clean up the mess, I grab my phone to thank Kat for decorating the tree when an incoming call from my realtor makes me freeze.

Because I already know why he’s calling. And it hits my gut like a boulder.





50





Katherine





Jaycee nudges me out of the way to pin some mistletoe over the doorway of the diner.

I poke her in the ribs. “You’re gonna regret that if Old Man Johnson comes in here and tries to plant a wet one on you.”

She makes a gagging sound and laughs. “Maybe, but I won’t complain if those kisses come from the Walker twins.”

“Perv,” I tease.

She holds a hand over her heart and closes her eyes dramatically. “And damn proud of it.”

Being at work, being busy and chatting with the girls, is making me feel better. I don’t know why I was so emotional last night. I should’ve just waited until Brady was done with his customer to say hello. It’s not like he was cheating on me, for God’s sake.

Honestly? I took this shift today to get out of the house, to get some space and perspective. I was still feeling miffed last night and needed a reason to get away. Which I know is totally immature, but I didn’t want to have to face him before I’d found a little balance.

We just need a night to hang out, and everything will be fine. The man is working himself to the bone. The least I can do is have some patience and stop feeling like a scorned girlfriend.

The cheery holiday music is helping me chill out. Everyone is so dang chipper around here today, it’s contagious. Carol handed out Santa hats this morning, and we’re all wearing red and white.

After refilling someone’s coffee, I’m passing through when a guy in Jaycee’s section opens his briefcase and papers spill all over the floor.

“Shoot,” he mumbles.

“I got it.” Leaning down, I pick up the fliers, which feature full-color photos of houses and properties. I apologize for the one I step on.

He gives me a wide smile. “Honestly, nothing could put me in a bad mood today.”

“I think the holiday mood is rubbing off because I’m starting to feel the same way.” I point at his stack of properties. “Are you a lawyer or a realtor?”

“Realtor.” He laughs. “I hate lawyers.”

Grinning, I motion toward his cup. “Want some coffee?”

“Absolutely.”

I’m filling his mug when my eyes land on the paper in his hand. Which features a photo of a farm. Mel’s farm.

“Whoa!” he yells, and I yank the coffee pot away.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” I’ve overfilled his cup, and coffee runs in rivulets across the table. I reach for the napkins in the dispenser and try to sop up the mess. “I feel terrible. Breakfast is on me.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I just landed the biggest deal of the year, and I don’t think anything can ruin it for me.”

A lump forms in my throat. “Yeah?” I motion toward his stack of papers. Please let it be a different property. “Which”—I clear my throat—“which house?”

He waves his hand. “This little old farm is gonna buy my kids a pool for Christmas.” I listen in shock as he says a buyer came out of nowhere and made an amazing offer. Doesn’t want to haggle. Just wants to close. On our farm.