Chapter 3
Harrison
For the rest of the meal, we eat in silence as a million thoughts pellet my brain.
I need to talk to Pix, but over the phone seems… wrong.
I motion to Mick for the bill.
He shakes his head. “It’s already taken care of. Merry Christmas.”
I flick a hand toward Zac. “You sure? This guy just set you back a small fortune in beef.”
I’m still reaching for my wallet when Mick waves me off. “There’s no way I’m letting a newly minted groom pay for his own meal. It’s on the house.”
“Thanks, Mick.”
Mick grins. “Maybe it earns me enough goodwill with your lovely wife?”
That’s enough for my smile to shift slightly down. The reminder that she’s never just Pix to anyone else. She’s Ava Alvarez, megawatt star. The one people always want a small piece of.
I want to shield her from it. Protect her.
I like Mick. I do. But I’d pay for this meal ten times over before I start trading bits of her for fucking food.
Zac clearly notices every muscle in my neck bulge when he taps my chest and tips his chin toward the kitchen door.
I follow his gaze.
Big brown eyes peek around the door. Hopeful and quiet. “I’m her biggest fan,” she says.
“Don’t be shy, Natalie,” Mick says, nudging her my way.
She holds up a folded piece of paper. “Can you give this to her?”
If Pix were here, she’d already be on her knees, pulling that little girl into a hug, asking about her favorite book like it’s the most important question in the world. Then she’d show up next time with a bag sewn just for it.
But she’s not here.
So, I take a knee so we’re at eye level and hold out my hand. “I’ll make sure she gets it,” I say, assurance in my words the rest of me doesn’t exactly have confidence in.
She whispers in my ear. “It’s private.”
“I won’t peek,” I assure her with a wink and tuck it in my pocket. “I’ll personally deliver it myself.”
Whenever the hell that will be.
“Did you hear that, Grandpa?”
“I sure did, Natalie,” Mick says, gratitude all over his face.
She wraps a big hug around my neck, you’d think I offered her a ticket to Disney World. “Thank you!” She squeals, and I feel a sliver of that heart-melting happiness Pix feels.
After a minute, Mick pries her off, and we take off as she says, “He’s going to give my letter to Princess Ava. Best Christmas ever!”
It should be for one of us.
Zac and I step out into the cold, the bite of winter hitting me in the face. I swear, New York dropped twenty degrees the second Pix left.
He checks a message, then jerks his chin down the block. “Mom and Hannah are hitting a few shops up the road. Want to join us?”
“Where?”
“Just past that jewelry place.”
My gaze catches on the sign in the window like a moth to a dumpster fire.
This Christmas, Shoot for the Stars.
And just like that, I miss her so hard it knocks the wind out of me.
Or maybe it was Zac’s punch that landed square in my arm.
“Ow! What the hell?”
“Go see your wife.”
Zac’s words land harder than that black belt punch of his.
I rub my arm, buying myself a second. I should go. I want to go. Instead, I reach for the easier truth. “It’s two days before Christmas. The kids are at Mark and Jess’s right this very second, gearing up for the biggest family party of the year. They need to be with family.”
A brotherly hand lands on my shoulder. “Isn’t your wife your family?”
Yes.
So much, I feel her absence everywhere I turn.
I shove that down. Ignore the pull to call her. To hear her voice. To fix this distance with something as simple as pressing a button.
“You go on,” I say, already stepping back. “I’ve got more shopping to do.”
He studies me, not buying it. “Why not do it with us?”
“Because you’re at the top of the list, genius.” The lie comes out rather easily. “So unless you want a stocking full of pie beads, I need a little breathing space.” When he hesitates, I roll my eyes. “I’ll catch up, okay?”
“Suit yourself.” He tugs his coat tighter, shivering. “Maybe grab me socks. Thick, fluffy ones for my balls. I’m starting to lose feeling there.”
I huff a quiet laugh.
He starts down the block, then calls back over his shoulder, “At least call her.”
“I can’t. I’m too busy buying the smallest socks known to man.”
“Don’t be a stubborn mule,” he hollers, already turning the corner.
Then he’s gone.
And the jewelry store comes back into view. Without thinking, I reach for my phone. The phone rings once. Twice.
Connor picks up on the second ring. “Hey, Dad.”
“What are you guys doing?”
“Now?”
How very thirteen of him. No, last Wednesday. “Yes, Connor. Right now. What are you guys doing?”
“Uh, Snooki’s decorating cookies with Aunt Jess for the party tomorrow. And mostly licking frosting off her fingers, so eat them at your own risk.”
As gross as it sounds, I always do.
“Ollie’s playing Halo with Uncle Mark. And I’m making sure the reindeer are fed.”
I close my eyes, shaking my head. Because only Uncle Mark is insane enough to actually have reindeer at his house.
And it reminds me why I won’t tear them away from it. No matter how much I miss Pix in my arms. The ache for her has my entire body twisted in knots.
“Everything okay, Dad?”
“Just…” I puff air in my cheeks. Whatever excuse I was going to make about going to California vanishes in thin air. “…checking on my kids,” I say casually. “Can’t a dad just check on his kids?”
“I guess.”
Awkward silence.
“I’ll let you get back to feeding Blitzen,” I say.
“Cool.”
The call disconnects.
I’m so tempted to call Pix. Even if it goes to voicemail, I just want to, I don’t know…hear her voice.
But the last time I heard her voice, the word divorce came out of her mouth… and nearly destroyed me.
I stare at my phone for a long minute until a brutal gust of frigid wind blasts my balls into my chest.
That does it.
Wants? Gone.
Needs? Front and center.
And what I need to do is the one thing I hate more than small talk, kale chips, and low-flow toilets.
Shop.
Until. I. Drop.