Chapter 36
THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS
MELODY
It’s the day after Christmas, and all through the house, a creature is stirring, and it is… a cat.
Eben’s cat, to be precise. Currently perched on my chest and making very intense eye contact.
Eben swears he’s been fed, but I think he just wants me dead. So I do the only logical thing and declare war.
That’s why Buster and I are currently locked in a high-stakes stare-off.
What the stakes are, I have no idea—nor do I want to find out.
“You’re going to lose,” Eben mutters, side-eyeing us from his side of the bed.
“Shhh.” I wave him away. “I need to focus.”
What’s left of Buster’s mangled old tail gives a twitch. His smushy face has a speck of food at the corner of his mouth. I zero in on it, eyes burning, forcing myself not to blink.
I’m only sixty percent sure Buster even knows we’re in a contest—but I’m one-hundred percent sure he’s winning. My eyes sting—my vision blurs. Still, I persist.
I’m also one hundred percent sure the little demon is growing on me. Not sure the feeling’s mutual.
Still ugly, though.
“He can go several days without blinking, I’m pretty sure,” Eben says.
“Shut. Up.” My eyes water, but I’m nothing if not resilient.
Come on. Just a little longer—
“HA! He blinked!” I swipe the tears from my cheeks and point triumphantly at the cat. “I win, you little fucker.”
Buster MROWS, offended, and hops off the bed.
Eben is shirtless with delicious bedhead, a book in his lap. A book. I think it’s about World War II, but whatever—it’s reading. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any hotter.
And here I am: naked in his bed, picking fights with his cat, not a book in sight.
Balance.
“You are deeply weird,” Eben says.
“Hey!” I smack his bare shoulder. He grins and pats his chest. I smile big and cozy up under his arm. He returns to his book. I nip at his bicep, and he growls, fingers skimming up my ribs to my breast, circling my nipple lazily. I sigh dreamily.
We’ve been together ever since yesterday morning, when Eben declared his love for me in the middle of my very own Christmas tree forest. I heard from Missy and the seniors that he spent all night on Christmas Eve setting it up, taking his truck back and forth between my storage unit and the nursing home.
I spent all of Christmas Day showing him just how much I appreciated his magnificent declaration (and his magnificent… other things).
That reminds me—
“You said Ally let you into my storage unit.”
His hand tightens on my ribs. He looks up from his book—but not at me. “She did.”
I glance at my phone, realizing I have not heard from Ally since the pageant, despite her being very involved with Eben’s grand gesture.
Highly suspicious.
“She was supposed to be away for Christmas with Teddy.”
“Oh,” he says, head tilting. “I don’t know. Maybe they rescheduled.”
He’s hiding something.
“Eben…” I scooch away to look at him full-on.
“Hmmm?” he pretends to read, but his eyes don’t move across the page.
“What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Uh-huh.” I smooth a hand over his brow. “Your eyebrow twitches when you lie.”
He glances up, incredulous. “How could you possibly know that already?”
“I’m very observant. I was in a cult, remember?”
He sighs. “I remember.”
“Did Ally and Teddy break up?” I ask suddenly.
Eben’s eyes snap to mine. “Fuck, Melody—I promised I wouldn’t say anything.”
I’m already grabbing my phone and shoving my arms into the ruby satin robe I brought from home. “Are you kidding me? She told you and not me?”
“She didn’t want to ruin your Christmas!”
“She’s my best friend on Planet Earth! Who gives a fuck about my Christmas when she just broke up with the love of her life?”
I scroll to Ally’s name—twenty-one missed calls from the night of the pageant. Oh my God, I thought she was calling about Eben, but what if she was calling about her breakup? What if she needed me? I hit Call.
She answers on the third ring. “Why are you calling me? You should be shacking up with your lover.”
“Did you and Teddy break up?”
A pause. “That little shit.”
“Don’t blame him, I guessed. Also, why the fuck does my boyfriend know about Teddy before I do?”
“Oooh. Boyfriend?”
“You’re trying to distract me.”
“Fine. Yes, Teddy and I called it.”
“Where are you? I’m coming over.”
“No, you’re not. You’re going to spend the day with your legs in the air.”
“You’re at your parents’ house, aren’t you?”
She swears under her breath.
“Seriously, I’m coming over.”
“If you do, I’ll kick your ass.”
“Fine, then you’re coming over tomorrow. We’ll eat leftover Christmas cookies, cry, and watch The Notebook.”
“I hate The Notebook.”
“I know. I didn’t say we’d enjoy it.”
A pause. “Okay.”
“I love you, Al. I’m not going to tell you it’s going to be okay. But I will help you bury a body if you need me to.”
Her laugh is soft and wobbly. “I know you would.”
I’m not used to hearing her like this. It breaks my heart. I don’t know what happened between her and Teddy, but somewhere deep down, I can’t help but feel like they’ll find their way back to each other. Someday.
And no matter what, I know Ally will be okay. Eventually.
“We’re going to die side by side in the nursing home, just like Noah and Allie.”
“Who’s Noah and Allie?”
“The toxic couple from The Notebook.”
“Right. I hate them.”
“Exactly why we’re watching it tomorrow.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “Thanks, bestie.”
I blink back tears. Her voice is so small. I want to fast-forward through the hurt and healing to the version of her forged by it. I want to skip ahead—to the day she sifts through the wreckage, gathers the broken pieces, and assembles them into someone new. Someone better.
But there’s no speeding up time, and grief has no shortcuts.
I would know.
I swallow the lump rising in my throat. “Friends forever?”
“Forever and ever.”
When we hang up, I pad back into the bedroom. Eben’s pacing now, sweatpants on, worry in his eyes.
“Does she hate me?”
“What? No.”
He doesn’t look so sure.
I roll my eyes. “Relax—Ally forgives hot people very easily,” I smirk, trailing a finger down his bare chest. “You’re good.”
He exhales in relief. “Thank God. I don’t want to screw this up before we’re even official.”
“Wait.” I squint. “We’re not official?”
He grins. “Are we?”
“You told me you love me.”
“I am in love with you.”
“Doesn’t that automatically escalate you to boyfriend status?”
“Does it?” His grin widens. “I didn’t get the handbook.”
“Fine,” I say, turning toward the door. “If I’m not your girlfriend, then I’ll just—”
He catches me and tackles me onto the bed, pinning me beneath him. “Melody Whitaker, will you be my girlfriend?”
“I don’t know…”
He dips down and bites my nipple through the satin robe.
“Fine! Yes! I’ll be your girlfriend.”
“Good girl,” he says, settling between my legs, spreading me wide. I’m already panting. “Only 364 days until next Christmas, and so far you’re on the nice list.”
“Gee, thanks, Santa,” I tease.
He squeezes my ass. “Don’t worry. There’s still plenty of time to be naughty.”
That brilliant grin flashes—and then he lowers his head and puts that pretty mouth to work.
We spend the rest of the day together, in bed and in love, already making plans for next Christmas.
And every Christmas after that.