Hold On

“That drawer there,” I said, jerking my head.

I finished with the candles and grabbed the lighter to start lighting.

“Baby, ready?”

I twisted again and saw Merry had six packages of Star Wars plates held sandwiched in one of his big hands, a package of plastic forks in the other. The living room beyond him was dimmed. All was ready.

“Ethan in place?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Merry answered.

I smiled. “Then yeah, honey. All ready.”

He smiled back, turned, and stopped dead.

I stopped dead too.

This was because there was a loud banging on the door.

Very loud.

And from that loud, you could definitely read angry.

Very angry.

What the fuck?

Merry glanced my way, then tossed the plates and plastic silverware aside and prowled out.

With a quick look at a perplexed Rocky, I tossed the lighter aside and hurried after him.

I hit the kitchen doorway to see forty-seven people crammed into my not-very-big living room, a room draped in black-and-blue streamers; black, blue, and silver balloons bunched and stuck in corners and around the ceiling light; and black plastic Darth Vader head-shaped trays and white plastic Stormtrooper head-shaped trays filled with Chex Mix, M&M’s, honey-roasted peanuts, or Fritos littering every surface available.

And all of those people were silent as the angry knocks kept coming.

I also saw my son’s confused face turned to the door. Merry was struggling his way through bodies to get to it, but Colt was already there.

Colt opened it.

“Stop knocking,” he bit out when the knocking didn’t stop because whoever was doing it was doing it on the storm door.

“I demand to see Cheryl!”

Fuck.

Peggy.

I looked to Ethan, who no longer looked confused.

His face was pale and his eyes were on me.

“It’s cool. Everything’s cool,” I said to the room at large but turned to the closest adult, who happened to be Dave. “Do me a big favor, Dave. Can you get my son in the kitchen?”

“Sure thing, honey,” Dave muttered.

I pushed through bodies, eyes to the door where Merry now was with Colt.

But he was pushing through the storm.

And he was pissed.

Colt was following him.

And he was pissed too.

Shit, this was happening outside.

I looked back at Dave, who was halfway to my kid.

“And, uh…shut the blinds in the kitchen, would you?”

“Mom!” Ethan cried.

“Give me and Merry a second, baby,” I requested.

Bad choice of words, especially with all these folks around.

“I’m not a baby!” he snapped.

I made it to the door and focused on him. “I need a second, kid. Merry and me need a second. You know we’ll give it to you when we know what’s going down. Just let us see the lay of the land first. Okay?”

Dave had his hand on Ethan’s shoulder. Feb was close too. Vi was pushing their way.

Ethan was glaring at me.

Then he bit out, “Fine.”

“Go with Dave and Feb, you with me?” I asked.

“Whatever,” he muttered, getting up from his seat on the floor by the coffee table, which had been cleared for cake placement, candle blowing, and ice cream scooping, the edges of the table and the floor around it littered with presents.

All ready for the good stuff.

Fucking Peggy.

I set my teeth, gathered my wits, tamped down my fury as best I could, and stormed out of my house.

Merry and Colt had managed to get her halfway down the walk.

I didn’t know what was happening. I just saw through the two men’s bodies she had one arm gesticulating.

She also had her daughter in a stroller and her son on her hip.

And my son was right then being hustled into our kitchen just before he was supposed to get cake, ice cream, and spoiled rotten by people who loved him, all because Peggy was having whatever fit Peggy was currently having.

In other words, I might have succeeded a little bit in tamping down my fury.

But I didn’t hold tight enough to the reins.