“You’ve got one hell of a sex afro going on, sis.”
Erin’s eyes bulge as she furiously runs her hands through her hair, her gaze darting around. Brenden shrugs with a prideful grin as Erin glowers at him.
“You should be thanking me this morning, wife. I got you out of there as soon as these two idiots started reciting The Pink Lady Pledge.”
“Till death do us part, think pink,” Serena and I recite together before wincing.
“Which movie is that?” Eli asks.
“Even I know that one,” Brenden declares, “Grease.”
Eli nods, “ah.”
“So, Christmas Eve,” Serena addresses Thatch cautiously. “Do you have everything you need to put the b-i-k-e-s together?”
“Yeah,” Thatch says softly, “I’m good.”
“I’ll help,” Eli offers.
“No, man, you don’t have to do that,” Thatch says, distracted by his cereal.
“I really don’t mind. It’ll be cool. I’ve never played Santa.” His admission squeezes my heart as Peyton scolds him with crazy baby eyes pointing his hammer in Eli’s direction. “No Santa!”
“Sorry, buddy,” Eli chuckles.
“No do gain, Lie.” Peyton chides.
“Yes, sir,” Eli lifts his hands. “Really sorry.”
“Otay,” Peyton concedes easily.
I shake my head as Eli and I find ourselves in another stare-off. “Sorry, not even you are safe.”
Eli winks, and my belly flutters. There has to be time for us to talk. Sooner rather than later. He seems to read my thoughts, a whisper of a smile crossing his lips. Lips that have recently set fire to my libido, a fire that’s been raging ever since.
God, I want him. But should I?
“We probably need to get it done today since we’re going to mass tonight,” Thatch says to Eli, “so I’ll take you up on it.”
“Ready when you are,” Eli says, tossing his napkin on his plate.
“I got one for Conner too,” Brenden says, “I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit.”
My eyes flit between the three of them due to the easy camaraderie. Briefly, I have an image of Eli being more than just a temporary fixture at the table. Fear snakes its way into me as my thumping head scolds my repeatedly beating heart for already going there with that line of thinking. A breath later, blinding pain shoots through me. Eyes watering, I turn to see Peyton with his plastic hammer, culprit, and source.
“Oh my God, Peyton,” Serena gasps, “no hit Auntie Whit!”
Peyton speaks up in his defense. “Do not matta! In de past! Past hewts!”
Head smarting and feeling betrayed—I gawk at the baby as a second of silence ensues before the whole table bursts into hysterical laughter. Eli’s laugh in particular bellows throughout the dining room, his head tossed back, body shaking as I turn to Peyton massaging my stinging scalp.
“Traitorous little shit,” I mutter beneath the roar of the table. Peyton grins broadly, proud of himself for causing such a reaction. Laughter slowing, Eli’s smiling eyes catch mine, a fond sparkle inside them I recognize. His expression softens further as he runs a soothing hand over my head before cupping my cheek briefly, his thumb brushing my jaw before he pulls it away.
“You okay?”
“I think so.”
He’s not even trying to mask his affection for me at this point, and I know all eyes are on us as the laughter slows, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Even with my scalp screaming, I feel the urgent need to free myself of the rest of my hurt and resentment—if only to give myself a chance. To be able to open myself to him. It’s one thing to say you forgive someone, another thing entirely to actually do it. Within these weighted seconds, I feel the shift of it. The bulk of it beginning to lift as an age-old question circles my mind.
What if?
“I don’t remember going to bed,” Serena speaks up. “How exactly did I get there?”
Tearing my eyes from Eli, I nod toward Thatch, who keeps his focus on his uneaten breakfast. It’s when Serena addresses him that the whole table tenses in unease. “Hey, husband.”
Thatch looks up, his eyes weary.
“I love you,” she stresses, evident ache in her declaration. “You know that, right?”
Thatch nods and stands, turning to Eli. “Meet you in the garage?”
“Right behind you,” Eli assures as Thatch takes his bowl to the kitchen before making his way to the hall tree. Serena stares after him as he slides on his jacket and into his boots before slipping out the front door. Coffee in hand, she stands, her voice shaking when she speaks. “I’m going to go shower.”