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Annabelle
Declan had to leave the house hours ago to get to the stadium, and he had no problem getting himself together. I, on the other hand, have had all day and still barely feel like moving. I’ve forced myself to do it, but man, a cup of coffee would have gone a long way today. I tried to clean up the insanity that is currently my living room, but I don’t know why I bothered. Tommy keeps hopping from one toy to the next, so I’m not sure what the point of putting any of them away actually is.
So, instead of fighting it, I gave in. While Tommy happily played in front of the pretty Christmas tree, I laid down on the couch for a few minutes and closed my eyes. Well, I intended for it to only be a few minutes, but when my phone chimes with an incoming text and I see the time, I realize it was more like an hour.
I quickly look over to where I left Tommy, and he’s still contentedly playing with all his dinosaur figurines. They’ve formed an army to try to fight off the three-foot-tall animatronic dinosaur he got from Santa.
Amelia is coming with Tommy and me to the game today. She doesn’t have any family in the area to celebrate the holiday with, so she jumped at the chance to join us. I know she likes watching football, but I like to think it’s because she liked the idea of spending Christmas with us too.
Amelia:Merry Christmas, Belle. What time should I meet you today?
Annabelle:You don’t have to meet me. Tommy and I will pick you up.
Amelia:Just tell me what time to be at your house, Annabelle.
Annabelle:I can hear your eyes rolling, Amelia. You’re a pain in my ass. You know that, right?
Amelia:Good thing your ass is small. What time?
Annabelle:Three-thirty
Amelia:See you then!
Little does she know I told her thirty minutes later than when I want to leave today. It only takes fifteen minutes to walk from Mail Street to our house, so that leaves me plenty of time to drive over and get her before she decides to walk over in the freezing cold temperatures we’re seeing today.
Guess I better get a move on.
Before long, I’ve got Tommy and Rex both dressed in matching Kings jerseys and Santa hats. I’ve got on my best skinny jeans, black knee-high chunky-heeled leather boots, and my new Mrs. Sinclair jersey. My hair is down, and I paid a little extra attention to it and my makeup. If I’m going to get bombarded by reporters today, I might as well look good while they do it.
I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to this aspect of loving Declan Sinclair.
I talk a good game, but it’s still a little unnerving.
Declan’s worth it though.
He’s worth everything.
“Come on, Tommy. Get your coat on, please. It’s cold outside,” I holler into the family room as I fill up my Mary Poppins bag with today’s essentials. “Tommy,” I call out again when there’s no answer.
Where is this kid?
When I walk into the family room, I find him on the couch with his new headphones on, watching Toy Story That Time Forgot. It’s basically a Toy Story Christmas movie. His favorite movie but with extra dinosaurs. The kid is in heaven.
I pull his headphones off and put them around his neck. “Come on, kiddo. We need to go get Amelia.”
With a nod of agreement, he grabs his iPad and Rex and follows me to the kitchen. Once I’ve grabbed my bag and keys, I shove my phone into the pocket of my jeans and lock up.
Once Tommy is buckled up in the back, I turn around to get myself in the car but see Leah strolling up my driveway. She’s a mess. Flannel pajama bottoms and Ugg boots are showing beneath her open puffer jacket. Her blonde hair looks stringy and tangled like it hasn’t been washed for days. And her mascara is smeared and looks like it ran down her face when she was crying... two days ago. Everything about her screams take a shower and sleep it off.
She looks like a Harley Quinn reject, not at all like her typically high-end put-together self.
As she gets closer to the car, I hear her singing, “Santa Baby.”
Quickly closing Tommy’s door, I force a smile. “Merry Christmas, Leah.” Now that she’s closer, I see her hair extensions are also coming out.
Damn. This girl is a hot mess.
“Is it really a Merry Christmas? I mean, I guess for you, it’s a perfect Christmas.” She gets uncomfortably close, and I smell the alcohol on her breath. “You’ve got everything you want this Christmas, and I’ve got nothing.”
