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Hence why I’d spent most of my day watching movies, carving pumpkins, making spooky-themed cookies, virtually touring a haunted house on my laptop, and even painting a ceramic skull like I routinely did with my sisters when younger.
I wasn’t used to celebrating Halloween alone. Dax was home, but he wasn’t keeping me company. He’d spent most of the day upstairs, leaving me to my own devices. Still, I’d enjoyed myself.
My level of excitement had kicked up a notch when the trick-or-treaters had finally started arriving—I loved seeing little ones in their costumes, all hyped up and smiley. More had showed than I’d initially expected, but fewer and fewer had appeared until eventually the numbers fizzled out even though the hour wasn’t late. But that was understandable since, being a Sunday, it was a school night.
“I did tell you I loved Halloween,” I reminded him.
“You failed to mention that you’d turn into someone I don’t know for the entire day.”
A snicker popped out of me. “What can I say? This holiday does funny things to me. And to my mom, actually. That’s just how it goes. Buckle up. This is your life now.”
He grumbled something beneath his breath, but I didn’t miss the spark of amusement in his eyes.
“Just think, Halloween will be over in a few hours.” I twisted my mouth as I contemplated whether to give him a heads-up that I was even worse at Christmas …
Nah.
“And thank God for that,” he muttered.
With a haughty look, I gestured at my Wednesday Addams outfit. “You’re just jealous because yousowant one of these costumes.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice dry as the desert, “It’s been on my birthday list for decades.”
I felt my lips split into a smile. “Ooh, sarcasm suits you. I want to see more of this. You totally work it.”
Seemingly fighting an eye roll, he heaved a good-natured sigh.
He’d been gifting me with similar sighs ever since I shook up our villa’s décor with my Halloween decorations a few nights ago. The poor guy seemed to have expected me to merely hang up the occasional garland and maybe set out a few props. He hadn’t been prepared for the fake cobwebs, strings of pumpkin lights, hanging ghosts, plentiful amount of votive candles, or the plastic spiders I’d attached to the windows.
The singing cauldron hadn’t gone down well with him either. Or the fake cat skeletons. Or the spooky lanterns.
And when he’d walked outside the next morning to find several pumpkins, tombstones, and dismembered body parts in the front yard, he’d done a double-take.
I’d offered to take some, if not all, of the decorations down—both inside and outside. But he had shaken his head and said, “I can handle them for three days.”
He’d commented no more about the decorations. Except for the cauldron, which he’d threatened to trash if I didn’t permanently switch it off because he was “done” listening to a creepy voice repeatedly sing about a wicked witch being dead. I’d called him a whiner but had turned it off nevertheless.
“Let’s eat before our food gets cold.” He pulled the stainless steel covers off our plates, filling the air with the scents of hot meat, tomatoes, and garlic.
Fairly salivating, I dragged the yummy smells into my lungs. “I’m starving.”
“I don’t know how you could possibly be hungry when you’ve been stuffing candy down your throat practically all day.”
“Candy isn’t filling.” I grabbed my glass of wine from the counter. “You don’t need to put my plate on the table, I’m going to eat in the living room tonight.”
His brow creased slightly. “Why?”
“Because that’s where the TV is.”
“And?”
“And I’ve reached my it’s-horror-movie-time portion of the evening.”
Another self-suffering sigh. “Right.”
Even as I knew he’d turn the offer down, I suggested, “You should join me. Take a peek into my world. See how the TV can be used for more than merely watching live sports.”
Exasperation tinged with humor once more flickered in his gaze.
