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At least I didn’t until that stupid blowjob proposal.
Birdie and Palmer are busy making wedding plans for next summer, and Palmer won’t shut his face about knocking her up as soon as Birdie says I do. Shepherd is planning on proposing to Wren in the middle of a baseball field when they take Owen on a trip to a college in California after the first of the year. And I’m sure it won’t be long until she pops out a sibling for Owen. And Emily… well, Emily’s love life is a goddamn shitshow right now, but it’s only a matter of time before she has wedding bells on the brain. I’ve been to two baby showers in the last month, and I’ve gotten four wedding invitations in the mail in the last week. I’m surrounded by weddings and baby fever on this island, and for the first time in my life, I want to get the hell away from Summersweet. It’s this place that’s wreaking havoc on me and making me feel all mushy and pukey; I just know it. Well, this place and good old Tiny Tim.
When people start filing out of the bar to head to the golf course restaurant, Tee Time, for the white elephant gift exchange and it quiets down a bit, I hear my phone chime with an incoming text, and I grab it out from under the bar where I stowed it next to my purse. I smile when I see the text, and butterflies flap around in my stomach. Then I immediately get annoyed that a stupid text from a stupid boy makes me feel all giddy. I don’t do giddy.
Bodhi: How’s it going, my little firestarter? Have you killed anyone yet?
Me: Fuck off.
Bodhi: That’s the spirit! I miss you too. How are you feeling? Is your fever still gone?
Me: My fever is gone, but I’m still dying from a brain tumor. I’ve named him Tiny Tim. See? I can be festive AF.
Bodhi: You are not dying from a brain tumor. Serious question though. Can we get a pet and name him Tiny Tim the Tumor? Maybe something in the turtle family.
Me: We’re not getting a turtle. There is no other explanation for me crying while watching a Hallmark Christmas movie with you yesterday, aside from the fact that I’m dying from some incurable disease with only months left to live. I haven’t cried since that one time on a Tuesday in 1998 when I stubbed my toe.
Bodhi: You cried because that movie was about a widower who moved to a small town to run the local inn and never thought he’d love again, while also winning the town’s baking competition and fake-dating Santa’s daughter so Santa would stop pressuring her to get married. It was poignant and beautiful and deserved our tears, Tess. You didn’t cry because you’re dying.
Me: Whatever. Something is wrong with me. You’ll see. And I already gave my doctor your cell phone number, and he is under strict instructions to call you and only you. You should probably start practicing how you’re going to tell me I’m dying. You can laugh, but only for three to five seconds, and then you have to get serious.
Bodhi: I know what you need.
Me: If you say your dick, I will shank you with a candy cane.
Bodhi: I wasn’t gonna say my dick.
Bodhi: I was gonna say come sit on my North Pole. Anyhoo, I think you need a few days away to recharge. Get away from the Christmas craziness and the two new shipments of glitter Shepherd just got from Amazon today for those holiday shirts we’re supposed to help make.
Me: I can still taste the glitter from those fucking Thanksgiving shirts we had to help with.
Me: And as lovely as a getaway sounds, I don’t have time to plan a getaway the week before Christmas. Oh, look at that. Birdie just sent me a text with our social calendar for the next week. Looks like I’m going to be busy dying before I ACTUALLY die.
Bodhi: Don’t you worry about a thing. Bodhi’s got it handled and will take care of everything.
Me: Like the time you “handled” making the stuffing for our first Thanksgiving together and forgot the container you labeled parsley wasn’t actually parsley? You’re lucky I refuse to eat soggy bread that’s been cooked in a bird carcass.
Bodhi: Right, so maybe handled a little bit better than that. But everyone was in a GREAT mood for the rest of the day, and they literally ate everything, and we didn’t have a weeks-worth of leftovers. Plus, Murphy giggled! Highlight of my life so far.
Me: Are you forgetting he tried to strangle you after he sobered up?
Bodhi: He wasn’t trying to strangle me. It was just a very firm hug with his hands, while he was straddling me on the ground. And I will handle this like a responsible adult who will make an excellent husband shall you decide to take one in the near future.
