Eleventh Day of Christmas #3
“Yeah, that’s the ticket,” said Charming. “When Bobby came back, the memory of how I felt with Andrews was still inside me, right? So I guess that this time ’round I could tell that Bobby’s type of love wasn’t the only type.”
“What a stunningly beautiful gift.” Kestrel adored Andrews even more.
“You know, something you said to me kept going through my mind too.”
“Me?” Kestrel leaned forward, surprised but eager.
“You were talking about your ex, and you said, ‘He celebrated who I was and never tried to control me,’ something like that. When Bobby was being his worst, I was like, he is trying to control me! And I don’t feel a pickled egg of celebration.”
Kestrel’s heart lit up like a lightning bug. “I also know how it feels to be stuck loving someone who doesn’t love me back. Who can’ t—” Kestrel stopped, her tight throat warning if she kept talking, tears would come. Hank was no noxious tool. He was good, but she simply wasn’t good enough for him.
“You know pain,” said Charming.
“Don’t we all?”
“Well, some people’s pain is like out-of-state cousins that come for a visit. And other people’s pain are their parents, always around, keeping them close. And then, some people actually had parents who are a pain.”
“Charming, you are so smart and so wise and so goals. I have to believe, if you want to try again, you will find someone else.” Kestrel added a thought like a prayer to the universe: Edwin, Edwin, Edwin . . .
Charming rolled her eyes. “Just because you’re lucky with guys doesn’t mean I ever will be.”
“Me? Lucky? Ha!”
“I know all about you.”
Kestrel just shook her head—delicately this time to keep her currently liquified brain from sloshing around.
If Charming really did know all about Kestrel, then she was certain this would be her last night at Pembrook Park.
And maybe it was time to go. Hank had looked at her and turned away.
And after her tea-visit debacle, she must have burned through any goodwill she might have earned.
Her brain assured her that she’d be fine.
After all, moving on was what she knew best. But her chin started to quiver, so she covered her face with her hands before her face could give away every ugly feeling she tried to keep tucked inside.
Charming pressed a hand against her shoulder. “Move over, you look like you need a snuggle.”
Kestrel frowned. This felt too kind a gesture, something she definitely didn’t deserve, but Charming was already climbing into the bed. She lay down and reached out her arm till Kestrel rolled closer, laying her head on Charming’s shoulder.
“You’re a very good snuggler,” Kestrel whispered.
“Darn tootin’.”
Kestrel closed her eyes and whispered, “Hank came in here on New Year’s Eve. I mean Mr. Kern. He lay right there like you are.”
“Ooh, tell me more. Did you have marital relations?”
“No,” said Kestrel. “We’re both just so bad at working out our issues, we’d rather do anything in the world than talk about them, so combined we’re a complete disaster!”
“Honey lamb, marital relations is a euphemism,” said Charming. “I meant did you have S-E-X.”
“Oh! I thought that you thought that it meant—never mind. Um, no, not that either. He just held me till I could feel safe enough to fall asleep.”
“Good gravy,” Charming whispered. “That’s the sweetest thing since sweet tea.”
“Isn’t it?”
They were quiet for a minute. Kestrel’s tipsy thoughts were all tipping toward Hank now, remembering the scent of him, the feel of him—
Charming nudged her in her side. “No drowsing. I’m only offering a short-term snuggle, not a sleep-and-hold.”
“That’s fair.” Kestrel tried to relax and let her body absorb all this good friendship closeness, but regret was clogging up her system till she could barely even breathe. She blurted into the silence, “I’m sorry about today. So, so sorry. I’m not usually like that.”
“You’re not usually unpredictable, impulsive, and attention-seeking?”
“Well . . . I’m not usually drunk. I’ve never enjoyed the feeling that my body isn’t under my control.”
“We’re all allowed to lose control sometimes.” She patted Kestrel’s head like she was a sturdy farm animal who was doing its best. “I’ll let you get some real sleep. Tomorrow is a big day.”
“Okay.”
As Charming’s warmth left her side, Kestrel snuggled under her blankets and closed her eyes. Even the impending aloneness didn’t scare her, because Charming had said tomorrow. Kestrel would have a tomorrow here. That thought was a gust of fresh air into a stifling-hot room.
Kestrel listened to Charming open the door, and suddenly a question rose up so big inside her, it outshone everything else—regret, exhaustion, shame, intoxication—
“Charming! Who is Hank’s match?”
“What do you mean?” Charming paused in the doorway.
“Mr. Kern. Is Mrs. Martinez his assigned match?”
“There’s no scripted love interest for Mrs. Martinez, by her request. But Mr. Kern . . .” Charming smiled at her sadly from the doorway. “Baby girl, didn’t he tell you? He wrote to me right after you won the dance marathon and asked if he could come here to woo you.”
“Woo?” Kestrel couldn’t be sure if she’d heard right. Her hearing was muffled, her brain was cotton stuffing. She generally felt like someone was trying to Build-A-Bear out of her head.
“Of course!” Charming laughed. “Sometimes you’re as smart as a wet sponge.
He said, ‘I’ve been collecting all these presents for my ex-girlfriend, and I don’t know how to give them to her, so can I send them to you so you can Secret-Santa them to her for Christmas, anonymous-like?
’ I said, ‘Why don’t you come out and give them to her yourself?
’ Since Mrs. Martinez didn’t want a romance, there was space for a couple of unattached gents at Windy Nook, and I thought, what fun! A real-life love story!”
“Woo?” Kestrel said again.
Charming nodded, pleased. “He came to woo you, Kestrel. He’s been in love with you the whole frickin’ time.”