The Plight Before Christmas (Holiday Hijinx Series #1)

by Kate Stewart

“Just remember when times get hard, when your problems are blinding you, that you’re on a floating planet in the middle of a vast galaxy filled with the unexplainable, and the only thing holding you to it is an invisible force you can’t see.”

“You’ve really memorized that show, haven’t you?” “Line by line, I’m afraid. It’s the bible for the single woman, hell, for every woman. I used to think of myself as two parts Carrie, one-part Charlotte, and a dwindling quarter of Samantha, but at this point, Miranda is threatening a takeover.”

And so it goes, the woman sets off to find herself, while the husband—ex or not—begins dipping lower and lower into the pool until they’re practically dating an infant so that they can have that girl back. But the jokes on them because eventually, the 2.0 version is going to hit the same part of the cycle, too. It’s a hamster wheel.”

Eli lifts Peyton onto the counter. “Spoo.” “On it.” Eli, AKA my nephew’s new bitch, searches a few drawers and finds a spoon before presenting it to Peyton for inspection.

“And Serena,” Ruby begins after a sip out of her coffee mug, “well—” “Mom, it’ll do you good to remind you that I’ll be the one to decide what home to put you and Dad into. Test me, woman,” Serena says icily, and Ruby and Allen share a grin. I can’t help my deep chuckle, and Peyton joins me from across the table, his burst of laughter hysterical compared to mine, which only makes me laugh harder.

“Right, so let’s get down to the important shit. First, how does he look? Please tell me he looks like Benjamin Button, the infant, and has a beer gut.” “Nope. And if he were going gray, which he isn’t, he would be the definition of a silver fox.” “Bastard.”

“You haven’t really let yourself get attached like that since him.” “No woman does after their first love. Not the same way. It’s a good thing.” “Baby, I hate saying this, but in your case, no, it’s really not.” “And why is that?” “Because you’re a romantic.”

“Trust me when I say if he’s there to see you, he regrets it. Take comfort in that over everything else. You’re irreplaceable.

“You can pretend all you want that I haven’t been inside you, but I refuse to.” She gapes at me, her eyes widening. “You did not just say that.” “I did. Don’t you think we’re a bit old for games?” “I’m not playing games, you ass. I just don’t see the point in talking about it. It’s a little late, Eli, don’t you think?” “We’re still breathing, and our hearts are still beating. So, no, I don’t think it’s too late.”

“I didn’t come here with a single expectation, and that’s the honest truth. Maybe I don’t know who you are now,” I swallow and lean in, speaking from a place I fought hard to come to terms with, “but right now, I’m talking to the girl who loved me and left me for good reason. I would love the chance to talk to her, to explain myself to her. But mostly, I just want to tell her that I’m sorry.”

In the past, I gave her everything but words and assurances for the future. But my first hard lesson was that words matter, something I’ve been confronted with over the years again and again through my failed relationships. Even if actions speak louder, words fucking matter.

“Yeah, you’re sorry. I heard you, but the thing is, the people you’re breaking bread with tonight are the people you really need to apologize to because they went through hell to get me back.”

Instinctively, my hands fly up to my chest. “My nipples are not hard for you!” “Jesus,” he rips at his hair before pushing his fingers through.

LMAO.

“You could not have effed me already! You pig!” “Ape,” he barks over his shoulder, “get it straight.” “Oh, no, ape would give you far too much intellectual credit!” I scream out as a woman quickly wheels past me, throwing a protective arm around the child speed walking next to her.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head. “Give me one minute. Sixty fucking seconds, Whitney.” “To what?” “To enjoy how good that kiss was before you try to convince yourself you lost some inner strength for taking part in it. Trust me. It was a lot braver to let me kiss you than to cower away from it.”

“My head is doing enough on its own at the moment. I need to be smart about this.” She stares at me as though I’m literally spewing crap out of my mouth. “Sis, let’s be real. You’re already so fucking gone.” “Shut up.”

It seems we’re all wasting time trying to save face and push our issues aside, and for what—because it’s a holiday? It’s like we’re all hiding behind “it’s fine, we’re fine,” masks, tiptoeing around our issues—serious issues—and for what? The idea of a perfect Christmas?

The picture we have for our lives, even down to a postcard holiday, doesn’t exist. Real memories worth keeping are made in the moment. They aren’t planned. We don’t thrive off idyllic. We thrive off real human emotion and experience. The here and now, and then our mind deciphers later which memories are our fondest.

The truly brave are those who can love and live with the fearless heart of a child.

She’s mine. She has to be because my heart is hers and always has been. It’s never been so clear. I loved her then, soul-deep. I love her now, perpetually.

“I couldn’t tell you. You wouldn’t have left me, and I needed you to because you were the only thing that kept me from bottoming out. I had to bottom out Whitney. I had to bottom out to decide to live and get the help I needed. For me, not for anyone else, for me.”

“Please keep dusting, and make it look convincing, okay? I know I’m acting crazy, but I love your family. I really do. I’ve fallen in love with them, and I don’t want to lose their respect.” His desperation-laced tone tugs at my heart. “Okay.”