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“That’s better than the multifunction keychain you’ll probably end up buying everyone.” She darted into a spot near the back of the lot after someone pulled out and yanked the key out of the ignition. “Skip the inflatable whoopee cushion. It doesn’t make anyone laugh. Just incites violence.”
“Duly noted.” Nick tugged out his phone and glanced at his notes app and the halfhearted list he’d made before giving up. “So, um, I don’t suppose you’re cool with inviting the others to the house tonight for you know, some holiday type stuff?”
“Dude, you need a wife.”
Heat crept up the back of his neck. The last thing he needed was a wife. He wasn’t even entirely sure what a guy did with one of those, besides them providing sex and possibly home-cooked meals. And even that was sketchy, from what he saw on Dr. Phil when he was channel surfing.
“You are a wife,” he said.
“I’m Gray’s wife, not a general catch-all one for the public’s use.” Jazz sighed and tugged her fuzzy purple gloves from the pocket of her quilted vest. It was a little chilly out, but he figured the gloves were some kind of fashion statement rather than actual cold weather gear. “But yes, the rest of the band is coming over for dinner. Harper took pity on all of us and is making Christmas Eve dinner for the horde rather than just for her and big D and baby Lexi.”
“Awesome.” Since he had approximately zero interest in visiting everyone’s place to dispense his likely shitty gifts, he was glad she’d thought ahead. He relaxed into his seat, then rubbed his suddenly damp palm down the thigh of his jeans. “Just the band?”
“I invited Lila too. Don’t worry.” She patted the back of his hand. “It would be mean to cut off your access to Christmas sex.”
“Ha. Yeah, right. Not sure if you noticed, but sex is off the table right now. She’s avoiding me.”
Ever since the night a supernova had blown up his life in more ways than one.
“She’s probably just in damage control mode. You know Lila. All work and more work. And Donovan runs a tight ship.”
He didn’t say anything. No one knew about their big blowup shortly after the crazy VIP show, and how she’d stormed off and barely said two words to him since. It wasn’t about Oblivion business. Not entirely. He would’ve staked everything that mattered to him on it.
But she’d vaulted up and he’d given her space. Mainly because he didn’t know if she’d gotten heat from her boss about their relationship or if the situation with her divorce had turned nasty. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure her or make her life more difficult.
His hope had been that if he stepped away, didn’t crowd her, she’d come to him on her own. Hadn’t happened yet, but he was still hoping.
Christmas was the perfect time for futile wishes, right?
“Come on,” Jazz said gently, diverting his attention from the flow of pedestrian traffic outside the window. “We have a lot to do and not much time to do it in.”
“Nah, this will be easy.”
“Sure it will, honey.” She rolled her eyes at him and slipped out of the car, giving him no choice but to follow.
Not that he wanted to. Shopping was right up there at the top of the list of stuff he hated most. Along with having tough conversations and trying to build some kind of bridge from the shit pile he’d stepped into back to the amazing weekend he’d shared with the woman he was…with.
Withwas a safe word. Much less fraught than so many others.
Like relationship. And love.
They passed the kettle ringers at the mall doors and both dumped money into the pots. He’d walked five feet before he turned back and unloaded more into the kettle. He needed all the karmic help he could get.
The first store Jazz dragged him into was a home store. She tugged him past aisles of draperies and pillows and spa attachment thingies—he stopped and cocked his head at those, imagining Lila naked and soapy while he wielded one of those extendable shower heads—and finally stopped in front of a music display. It was playing a selection that sounded like the product of a high school band, interspersed with some windy sounds that he guessed was supposed to be “a restful breeze blowing through the pines” as the CD cover indicated.
“Now this kind of thing is perfect to help the busy mother relax.”
“Yeah, because I’m buying for so many of those.”
At Jazz’s narrow-eyed stare, he grabbed two of the stupid pine CDs and grimace-smiled. “Great idea. Now you’re done.” Harper too, but he didn’t say that aloud.
“Cheap ass.” She flounced to the next aisle.
“What are you going to get Simon?”
Not that again. Nick scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck and studied all the stuff. Boxes were practically stacked up to the rafters, and everyone was rushing around trying to grab all the stuff and shove it into their carts, usually next to at least one squalling child.
His head was already starting to hurt.
