“What is happening here?” Soren asks, stopping just inside the doorway.
I glance around the room that’s so crowded and colorful it’s nauseating. “I think this is where they keep everything they’ve outgrown. That or Bella ordered things and hid them here.” That’s the only explanation for some of it.
“She can do that?” he asks, stepping into the room and wandering through the maze of crazy.
“She has her own credit card.”
“Of course she does.”
“She has a five-thousand-dollar monthly limit.”
“That’s it? Are they monsters?” He chuckles, knocking on the head of a life-size Chucky doll. “All we need is a Santa hat, and this can go by the fireplace.”
I hate that doll. But… “She would love it.”
“All right. You grab the unicorn, and we’ll make it a sleigh.”
After an hour of lugging oddly shaped, oversized toys down from the attic, we have a life-size toy box. A dream for any child—minus the ten-foot skeleton decorated with lights and the Chucky turned Santa.
There’s a small carousel, two of the three seats occupied by a giant teddy bear and a smaller stuffed gorilla. We pushed the couches and chairs out of the way, and in their place is a full-size bounce house. Not one of those little five-kids-max ones. This one is top dollar. There’s a small pool filled with a couple of inches of water and floating Barbie heads.
To top it off, there’s a small climbing set and a rope swing Soren looped around a banister from the second floor. Over, under, and around everything are all the Christmas lights we could find.
“It’s insane. And perfect,” I say, stepping back to take in our work. My heart is beating hard with the joy and the satisfaction of pulling this off.
“Are you going to hide in the giant stocking?” he asks, holding it up.
“No way. That’s where she kept the snake after she attempted to kill Mrs. Murray. They never found the snake after that.”
“Yikes.” Soren grimaces and drops the edge of the stocking on the floor. He tugs on the disk swing, ensuring it’s safe, then sits on it, holding the rope. I walk over and give him a shove. He’s heavy, and I’m weak, so he doesn’t swing far. He hops off and brings it to me. “Your turn.”
“I’m not a child.” I laugh.
“But something tells me you could use some fun.”
I could. I really could. But I’ll feel ridiculous. “It might hurt my head.”
“I’ll get you some more medicine.” He grabs my hand, and for a moment I forget all the reasons I’ve been pushing him away. His touch is gentle, and I give in to its spell. I sit on the disk, and he grabs the rope, pulling me back. And then he lets me go. I haven’t been on a swing for years and am surprised when my stomach swoops like I’m on a rollercoaster instead of a child’s toy.
A laugh bubbles up, and I lean back, enjoying the ride. This is oddly stress-relieving.
The disk spins, and as I come back around, I face him.
“I like when you smile… and you aren’t trying to kill me.” He grabs the rope, then catches me around the waist, holding me in place.
“Maybe you should stop giving me reasons to want you dead.”
“I don’t know if I can; I’m pretty irritating.”
My lips twitch, and I fight back a snarky response and allow myself to meet the gaze of the man I once loved.
How we’ve changed since then.
Without warning, he releases his hold on me, and I fly away from him. Watching him slip away feels familiar and disappointing in a way it shouldn’t.
My head has had enough thinking and swinging. I put my feet on the floor and step off, keeping hold of the rope as my dizziness fades.
“I’m not perfect, you know.”
