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Something’s up.
“Hey, Joe, how’s it going?” Mark asks, extending a hand to Joey, who tugs off his work glove.
The two men shake hands, and I don’t miss that Joey looks relieved to have a distraction from talking with me.
Note to self: don’t come on so strong.
“You get a tree?” Joey asks, his attention on Mark, who’s clearly a safer conversational target than his clingy ex.
“Just helping out Kelly here.”
“Ah. Need help loading it into your car?”
“Nope, all good.”
Joey looks disappointed to have his escape route thwarted.
“You sure you don’t want a tree for yourself?” he asks.
“Mark hates Christmas,” I inject, tired of being ignored.
Both men look at me. Mark frowns. “I do not.”
I look up at him. “Okay, you don’t hate it, but you don’t really get into it. You never get a tree, you won’t hang lights, you wouldn’t even let me put a wreath on your door last year.”
“Because it was white and had a pink bow.”
“It was flocked, and pink and white were very in that year.”
“I have the crew put a tree in the restaurant.”
“A fake one,” I argue. “It’s Christmas sacrilege.”
Joey is starting to back away slowly, but Mark pins him with a stare and makes his move.
He pulls something out of his pocket and dangles it in front of my forehead. “Hey, Joe, you guys sell this?”
“Ah, what’s that—mistletoe?”
I bite back a groan and Mark grins. “Yup.”
Joey shrugs, looking indifferent. “I think so. You ask the gift shop guys? I think it’s like three bucks, five if you want the one with the bow.”
Mark glances down at me and gives the mistletoe a wiggle. “What do you think, Kelly? Bow or no bow?”
He extends the mistletoe a bit farther, lifting it as high as he can so it’s more or less positioned between me and Joey.
I widen my eyes, trying to get him to do that silent best-friend-speak that we do. Sometimes.
“I already have mistletoe,” I say in a slightly menacing tone, reaching up and grabbing his wrist.
He’s stronger than me and holds firm, his arm barely moving even as I put my weight into it. “Oh, that’s right. Well, maybe I’ll get this one, then. Remind me how it works again…whoever’s on either side of the mistletoe, they make out, right?”
I give up on moving his arm and settle for wrapping an arm around his waist and using my thumb to try to dig for a vital organ.
He lowers the mistletoe and takes his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a few ones and handing them over to Joey. “I already paid for the tree, but this is for the mistletoe. Unless…”
Mark starts to lift his arm again, but I snatch his wrist. “Mark. Did you know Joey’s going to be a dad?”
