If It Makes You Happy(53)

CHAPTER 15





Cliff




“Pillow?”

“Pillow.” Michelle tosses the inn’s guest room pillow over, as requested, but instead, the pillow smacks me right in the face. She covers her mouth to halt a laugh. “I thought you were looking.”

I pick the pillow up and toss it back at her. It lightly knocks her in the face, but she gasps.

“Clifford Burke—” Michelle picks up the pillow from the hardwood and pummels me with it.

I hold up my arms, laughing as I protect myself from the second blow. Her bottom lip is tucked in as she tries not to laugh, but when I wrestle the pillow from her and hold it above her head, she folds her arms over her chest and exhales.

I lean closer. “You can’t stay mad at me.”

“Untrue,” she says, snatching the pillow from me and adding it to the other three already plopped on the bed. She gives a teasing smirk. “I’m always mad at you.”

“Touché.”

Each pink sham on the mattress is either frilly or lacy. It feels like we’re in one of Lisa’s rooms with too many dolls. The rain outside makes it extra unsettling.

“Who would want this on their honeymoon?” I ask, leaning against the doorway. “Yuck.”

“Are you yucking my honeymoon setup?” Michelle asks.

“I’m yucking Birdie’s honeymoon setup.”

Michelle hip-checks me on her way out the door, then flicks off the light behind her. “The pink quilt was specifically labeled for the honeymoon package, so that’s what they’re getting.”

Cliff hmms. “I can’t tell if having a honeymoon on Halloween is cool or creepy.”

“Creepy,” Michelle responds right before I say, “Cool.”

She lifts an eyebrow.

We descend the stairs together, taking the last few steps quicker. She hits the main level first.

“That’s three to two,” she declares.

“Okay, see, the last time, you jumped though. I don’t count that.”

“Sore loser.”

I roll my eyes with a grin as we turn the corner to the parlor. A bloodcurdling, high-pitched scream erupts from the TV, and Michelle’s hand shoots to her chest.

“Really?!” she admonishes on a heavy exhale, her lips straightening into a line at both Emily and Josh. They sit exactly two feet apart on the couch, as instructed by yours truly. “A horror movie in the middle of the day?”

“You said nobody was checking in today,” Emily says with an innocent shrug.

I laugh. “I thought you two were gonna watch Charlie Brown’s Big Pumpkin or whatever.”

“That’s not what it’s called,” Michelle interjects.

“Josh didn’t have a copy at the store,” Emily continues. “So, we got Scream instead.”

“At least it’s true to its name,” Michelle muses.

“Dad, you’d love this one.”

“Seen it.”

“When? You saw it without me?”

“It’s when you were with your mom last year.”

Emily grumbles to herself.

“Sorry, kiddo.”

Michelle crosses in front of the TV toward the kitchen, and Emily shimmies in her seat.

“Oh, wait, Michelle! Watch, watch, watch!”

Michelle turns on her heel.

I walk in front of the TV behind her, and of course I get a “Dad, move!” instead.

“The attitude, jeez,” I say on a chuckle, taking a spot beside Michelle by the dining room threshold.

I pretend to watch the screen, but from the corner of my eye, I’m peering at Michelle. I’ve seen this movie before. Killer in a mask goes after teenagers with a knife. But with each passing moment, Michelle’s face slowly changes. Her lips part, her nose scrunches up, and tiny lines deepen between her brows.

“Oh God, this is brutal, Em,” she says.

“No, no, the garage door is about to—”

“Sick,” Josh says, making my own nose scrunch.

I wasn’t exactly thrilled about having Josh in my life, but he makes Emily happy for some reason. I’ve never seen her more excited than when I said they could have a date, as long as it was in the house and everyone was home. I’ll have to deal with Mr. Fig Roll for now.

Rocket lies on the couch beside them, nuzzling his nose into the couch cushion, like he’s trying to shield his own eyes from the horror movie gore.

Michelle pats his hind leg. “Rocket, you all right?”

The dog’s tail beats on the couch in acknowledgment.

“Dad, can you get the light?” Emily asks, pointing to the switch near the kitchen.

I snap it off right when Michelle pets Rocket and murmurs, “Good boy.”

My head jerks back, and she grins, looking from Rocket to me.

“Not you, Cliff.”

Emily snickers at me.

“Keep it down in here,” I say, opening the kitchen door for Michelle. She ducks under my arm to pass through. “And hands where Rocket can see them at all times,” I add, pointing between them, then gesturing to Rocket with his muzzle buried in the cushions.

He’s not doing his job at all.