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She dug into her purse and pulled out a small airplane bottle of whiskey. She held it toward him with a big cheerful smile. “Go on,” she said. “It’s Christmas.”
“Sure,” he said and took the bottle, staring wide-eyed at her beauty like she’d just been dropped here from heaven.
I wanted to tell him to look someplace else. Anyplace else.
From her bag of wonders I heard a familiar growl and her dog—vicious and mean, was staring at me.
“Is that a teacup poodle?” the preteen boy asked, perking up from the corner where he’d been trying to disintegrate.
“Yes, sort of. There’s a little Shih Tzu in there, too. Maybe some Chihuahua?” Lexie answered. “Her name is Baby Girl and can I ask you a huge favor?” She started to pull the dog out of her purse and hand it to the teenager. “Could you take her out for a tinkle?”
“Oh, I’m not sure—” The mom, silent at bully dad’s elbow, suddenly piped up.
“Sure!” the kid said real quick.
“It’ll be real quick. Baby Girl is not a fan of this cold.”
“I’ll go with you,” the little girl said, and the two of them took off with Cujo.
“Now,” she said, addressing the crowd in front of the desk. She wasn’t even flustered by the face paint.
And they were all looking at her like she was the boss of them and it suddenly occurred to me that however she managed to get here, for whatever reasons, Lexie was my Christmas Miracle.
“If you have a reservation. That’s wonderful. He’ll help you right over there.” She pointed at me and the computer. “The rest of y’all, come on over here and I’ll write down all your questions, your names and phone numbers, and we’ll get some answers for you.”
The lines divided and within ten minutes the crowd was gone except for one of my brother’s fans with his phone out, hoping for a glimpse of the Mountain. The two kids came back and offered to walk Baby Girl whenever she needed it. Lexie hugged both kids when they left.
She’d charmed the mob.
I turned to face her and that smile she’d had for everyone else, even the rude dad and the super fan in the corner, absolutely fell off her face. And her hazel eyes were ice picks right into my chest.
Uh-oh, I thought. And for the first time in a long time I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I bet you never expected to see me again, did you?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“Well, I’d hoped—”
“I’m sure you did,” she snapped before I could finish my sentence.
My dad came out of the back office with his crutches, but her back was to him so she didn’t see him. And this reunion was awkward enough without my father in the audience.
“Do you think we could go someplace private?” I asked.
“No need.” She pulled a sheaf of papers from her bottomless purse. “You just need to sign these and I’ll get out of your life for good.”
“What am I signing?”
“Divorce papers.”
7
Lexie
Ethan looked like I’d punched him in the stomach. I pulled the belt tighter on my jacket, like armor that would keep me safe. His eyes glanced to my waist and then back to my eyes.
“I’m sorry, what, now?” he asked.
“We got married, dum-dum. And even though it was a Vegas wedding it still counts.”
“Married?” A voice behind me asked and I turned to find an old man in a cast on a pair of crutches. He looked like some of the old-timers in Henderson. Long white beard, flannel shirt. The 70s dropped them in the desert and they never left.
He was the mountain man version of that.
But the expression on his face was pure pain.
“You should be sitting down,” I said. “Shouldn’t you? I mean, I’m not a doctor, but that cast looks serious.”
His blue eyes met mine. Same beautiful blue as Ethan’s.
“You’re his dad?” I asked, and suddenly the pain in his voice made sense. I’d been here before. Disapproving parents were not unfamiliar to me.
“And you’re his wife?” he asked quietly.
“Don’t worry, not for much longer.” I gave the man my best the-show-must-go-on smile and pulled the rolling chair that had been shoved in the corner out so he could sit in it.
“Lexie—” Ethan said.
“You remember my name?” I asked and he blushed bright red. He wore a pair of khaki pants, which usually were a total lady-boner killer. Like, ugh. Science teacher pants. But he wore them with a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up like he was gonna go out and get his hands dirty.
And he had a black eye.
As a look it shouldn’t work. Even a little. But it did. “Don’t worry, I didn’t remember yours either until I saw the marriage license.”
Ethan’s Dad made a sound in his throat that could have been laughter or him choking on a chicken bone.
