The Stocking Was Hung(41)

I pull my head back and look at her in confusion.

She points to the sleigh and reindeer, highlighted with a spotlight behind me.

“He loves you, silly! I’ve never met a man who would go to such trouble just to make a woman happy. Maybe he didn’t come right out and say the words, but going by this action, I think he’s definitely head over heels in love with you.”

My mouth drops open and I pull back, lifting the crumpled card from Sam up between us to read it again.

“He did say the words,” I whisper.

Maybe not exactly, but he told me Merry Christmas. He said it for the first time and he did it in a note to me.

“He loves me,” I mutter, my lip quivering with more tears.

“Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Go get him!” my mom exclaims.

“I don’t know where he lives!” I screech frantically.

“I do!” Nicholas suddenly pipes up.

I’d forgotten all about him out here with us and when he shouts happily, I turn and glare at him.

“What do you mean you know where he lives? You’ve seen me crying all day long under the damn tree and you didn’t think to mention this before now?” I ask.

He shrugs, pulling a wadded up piece of paper out of his front pocket.

“He left this on the kitchen table for me. Send to tell you that you could send the ring back whenever you wanted and to make sure you knew it was no rush.”

I snatch the paper out of his hands and look at the address, written in a messy scrawl. I know the city he wrote down and it’s less than an hour away from here.

“I need to borrow your car! Oh, my God, I look like ass! I’ve been crying all day and I look like straight up *!” I yell like a maniac as I run toward the house.

Aunt Bobbie meets me in the doorway with two martinis in her hand, passing one to me when I get to the door. “Here, chug this. Nothing a few cucumbers under the eyes and some spackle won’t fix!”

Ten minutes and three very strong martini’s later, Aunt Bobbie turns my chair to face the mirror.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! WHAT THE FUCK?!” I scream.

“Too much?” she asks innocently, staring over my shoulder at my reflection.

“I look like a hooker! And not even a high priced one at that,” I complain, turning my face from side to side to get a better look at myself.

Thick, bright blue eyeshadow covers my lids from eyelash to eyebrow, fake lashes hang off my lids like spider arms reaching out to attack someone and hot pink blush lines my cheeks, along with hot pink lipstick, lined with dark red liner.

“Oh, God, this is bad. This is really, really bad. I look like Tammy Fay Baker after a bender,” I complain.

“Okay, so the blue eyeshadow was a bit much,” Aunt Bobbie shrugs, grabbing her martini glass from the bathroom sink and taking a sip.

“Wow, you look like a cheap hooker,” Nicholas laughs from the doorway.

“Shut up!” I scream, jumping up from the chair I pulled into the bathroom and teetering to the side when the vodka I’ve consumed goes right to my head.

“I can’t drive like this,” I groan. “I can’t see him like this!”

“I don’t know, is Sam the type of guy who likes cheap hookers? He might appreciate your effort and it will make up for you being an *,” Nicholas informs me.

I hear the jangle of keys from the hallway and my mother pokes her head in the bathroom.

“Sweet mother of Swiss!” she exclaims when she sees my face. “Do you charge by the hour, sweetie?”

She laughs at her own joke and I shoot her a dirty look. At least I think it’s a dirty look. My face feels funny and tingly.

“Sorry, that’s the marijuana talking,” she apologizes, holding up the keys in her hand. “Who wants a ride to Sam’s house? We can stop and pick up Cheetos on the way!”

Nicholas snatches the keys from her hand. “You are definitely not driving, pot head.”

He moves into the bathroom and squeezes past Aunt Bobbie and I, grabbing a container of wipes from the back of the toilet and tossing them at me. My hands move in slow motion to catch it and it bounces around a few times before I finally get a hold of it.

“You can wash that shit off your face on the drive,” he informs me.

“These are Dad’s poop wipes,” I grumble. “He wipes his ass with these, I’m not using them on my face.”

Nicholas grabs my arm and drags me out of the bathroom and down the hall. “They don’t have shit on them, Leon. Quit your bitching and get in the car. Let’s go get your man.”





Chapter 16




Sam




My house is a shit hole.

Okay, fine. It’s not a shit hole, but it sucks. It’s too boring, too quiet, and too…blah. I’ve been sitting on my black leather couch, staring at the photo on my mantle since I got home, feeling like a dumbass and this empty house just makes it worse.

I should have bought a tree on the way home, maybe that would have helped. Something tells me the taxi I called to pick me up at Noel’s parent’s house wouldn’t have been too keen on stopping at a tree farm when he drove me home. He was pissed enough he had to work on Christmas and I don’t blame him.

Bringing my bottle of beer up to my mouth, I grimace when the warm liquid hits my tongue and set it back down on the coffee table in front of me. I’ve been nursing that same damn beer since I got here. I have no idea why I didn’t polish off the six pack as soon as I walked in the door. Maybe getting drunk would make me feel like less of an *.