I smile at her. “That’s a great saying.”
“It really is.”
Not only is it a great saying, but Lacee’s belief in it just made my job a lot easier. See? That alarm going off in my head was for nothing.
“Okay.” I shrug. “I accept your rules.”
“I feel like we should shake on it.”
I lift one eyebrow. “Or we could seal it with a kiss.”
The tires go over a pothole, and the entire car jerks, just as I mention the kiss, making it look like I got overly excited by the thought of kissing her again.
“Easy, buddy!” Lacee laughs, patting me on the shoulder. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”
“I hope so.”
Lacee’s arm shoots out in front of me. “Here’s to an uncomplicated merry Christmas.”
“Shouldn’t you be saying an uncomplicated merrykissmas?”
“That’s the dumbest joke I’ve ever heard.”
I point to her mouth. “Then why are you smiling?”
“I’m not.” She bites her bottom lip.
“You are.”
Her arm waves in front of me. “Are we shaking on this or not?”
I grab her hand and give it a firm shake.
But what Lacee doesn’t know is that things are already complicated.
THIRTEEN
LACEE
I’m back,baby!
The confident, assertive Lacee is finally finding her stride again. Maybe it’s my silky smooth shaved legs, or maybe it’s Park Bradshaw. Either way, I’m starting to put my job problems, Nicholas Lawrence, and the last two years behind me.
It’s all about small steps, like the fact that when Park mentioned Nicholas’s name it didn’t even faze me. I didn’t have a five-second dive into humiliation about how everything ended. For the first time in three months, I just glided past it all. There’s something about Park that restores my confidence and makes me forget how miserable and embarrassed I’ve been.
So like I said, I’m back.
And part of being back is setting up a fun holiday fling between Park and me. It’s not like I woke up this morning and saidI should have a non-committal make-out buddy this Christmas. It just happened. Since I met Park yesterday, I’ve felt better than I have in weeks. Why not keep that feeling going?
I’m not looking for anything long-term. It might have been fun to pretend Park and I could have a real future, but the truth is, we can’t. I’m not in a position where something like that is possible. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company this week. I’m just looking for a way to spice up the holidays. It’s like eating Mexican food on December twenty-third. You know you have days and meals of Christmas ham and turkey ahead, so you eat Mexican food to balance it all out. Park is my Christmas chimichanga, and the relationship rules are the antacids that protect my heart from getting burned.
“This is it.” I point to my parent’s house as Park pulls down their lane. The tires spin, trying to find traction on the flattened snow—their gravel driveway makes it impossible to plow.
He hunches down, looking out the windshield at my parents’ house. “Is that log?”
“Faux log. It’s like siding. My dad wanted the old-world look, but my mom didn’t want logs for the walls inside the house. So this is their compromise.”
My gaze stretches across the house, and a feeling of nostalgia fills me up as I take in the forest-green front door with matching green-trimmed windows. There’s the same garland hanging above the door that my mom’s decorated with since before I was born. A plastic Santa Claus stands on the porch with a sign that reads,Santa, stop here!which has never made sense because why would Santa be holding a sign telling himself to stop at a specific house? The rest of the porch is decorated with oversized plastic candy—red and white swirled peppermints, green lollipops, and striped candy canes. Those are my parents’ favorite decorations because they own a candy store.
