Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“I’m now ‘the woman in the attic?’ Gosh … just seconds ago I thought I was the homeowner.”
With a little headshake, Henry grins. “Welcome to my world.”
“I’m going inside. Enjoy decorating this house for the last time.”
“Thanks for your help, Siri.”
“Serena,” I grumble a breath before closing the front door.
HENRY
Sexy Siri is a tough one. Her lack of generosity makes it hard to think of her as sexy, but I’m willing to overlook her lack of help in the spirit of Christmas—and maybe a little because she accepted my offer. A fifty-dollar mailbox and no police report in exchange for two weeks at Hotel Afina.
I’m very suspicious of her lack of resistance to the idea, but I don’t have time to figure her out. I have to figure out how I’m going to tell my mom that I’ve let her and the entire Bechtel family down. I fumbled the legacy ball. I’m a disgrace.
“Darling!” Mom hugs me, her thick red cardigan falling off her shoulders while her purse and carry-on bag hang from her arms.
“Hi, Mom.” I squeeze her tightly. It’s been too long since we’ve been together. Even if she’ll likely disown me after Christmas, I’m not going to let it ruin our reunion.
“It’s so good to be home again.” She sighs while handing me her bag. “Have you visited your father and sister?” she asks as if they’re in a house cuddled up next to the fireplace instead of six feet under dead grass and an inch of snow from last week.
“I have not. I thought we’d go together.” Or not at all. I’m not a fan of visiting graves. That’s not where I feel close to the deceased. Dad’s ghost sits next to me in my work van, and Emily hangs out in the attic.
“Lovely idea.” She chatters the whole way to the house and waltzes toward the front door, leaving me to carry her belongings. “Where’s the wreath?” She halts several feet from the front door.
“It broke. Last year. I was going to find a new one but …”
“You knew it was impossible since I made it.” Mom glances over her shoulder while opening the door. She gives me a smile and wink.
“Yup.” I had no idea she made it, but my feigned-innocent smile lies.
“Oh … where’s the garland on the stairs? And the mistletoe over the door? Henry …” She peeks her head into the living room. “Where’s the Christmas tree?”
“I thought we’d pick one out together.” I rest my hands on her shoulders.
There’s a clunking sound that comes from upstairs. I cough to see if it muffles the noise. “What’s that?” She straightens, eyes narrowed.
No such luck.
“What’s what?”
“That sound.”
I shrug. Again, there’s a clunk.
“Someone’s upstairs,” she says, heading toward the stairs. “Who’s here?”
“Mom, wait …”
“Did your Aunt Jan make the trip from Nebraska?”
“Mom—” I chase after her with her bags in my arms.
“OH!” Mom jumps at the top of the stairs.
Sexy Siri, wrapped in a towel, hair wet, eyes wide, slowly opens her mouth into an “O” or maybe an “oops.”
“Oh my goodness! You have a girlfriend?”
Serena says, “No” at the same time as I say, “Yes.”
Shit!
Mom’s eyes widen, red lips parted, and she releases a tiny gasp. It is gasp worthy. That, I won’t argue. I’ve never had a girlfriend. I’ve had dates. Hookups. And a slew of awkward, sexual-tension filled situations with customers. Sadly, married women. But no girlfriend.
And definitely not a girlfriend who’s half-naked and denying that she’s my girlfriend.
Mom covers her mouth with a cupped hand, and she’s getting … dammit! She’s getting all teary-eyed. I’m going to dash every single hope and dream she’s ever had for me.
No house.
No real girlfriend.
Merry-fucking-your-son-is-a-loser Christmas.
“Finally!” She quickly wipes the corners of her eyes.
Serena (yes, I know her name) stiffens, tightening the sash of her white robe as my mom hugs her, ignoring Serena’s adamant “no” answer to the girlfriend question.
“I think I’ve waited my whole life to meet you,” Mom squeaks with choked emotion.
Nobody waits their whole life for anything. The female genetic code comes with an extra chromosome of drama—sheer ridiculousness.
Serena’s eyes look like they might pop out of her head from the tight hug and total ambush.
“Honey…” I wet my lips and clear my throat “…buns … uh … surprise! My mom is here for Christmas.”
Mom holds her at arm’s length. “You’re so beautiful. I always knew my boy would find a beautiful woman. Finally! I’m getting grand babies.”
Oh no … fuck me. Did she really say that?
Serena doesn’t blink. Not once. Her gaze darts between Mom and me. A silent plea for an explanation.
“Sorry. Where are my manners? Mom, this is Serena. Serena, this is my mom, Martha.” I pray for points from Serena for saying her name correctly.
“Serena. What a beautiful name. I can’t believe Henry’s kept you a secret.”