“Oh my gosh! Is she okay?”
“Depends on your definition of okay,” I mutter. “She’s fine. Well, no, not really. She has a concussion and can’t be left alone.”
Lolo blinks. “And so . . . you’re staying with her? In New York?”
“No! God, no, of course not. I’m just . . . bringing her with me. To Chicago.”
Lolo is silent for several seconds. “Wait, so . . . you’re bringing your ex-wife . . . here? For Christmas?”
It’s apparently too much for even the serene Lolo to bear completely stoically because her eyes have gone wide.
“She’s pretty banged up, Lo,” I say, trying to appeal to my girlfriend’s empathy, even as out of the corner of my eye, I see Katherine prowling around, talking on her cell phone.
Katherine looks more like a ticked-off dictator than a fragile butterfly, and for an uncharitable moment, I wonder if my St. Tom agenda is going too far . . . if Katherine would be just fine spending Christmas alone in New York, where she belongs. So that I can get to Lolo in Chicago, where I belong.
Katherine spots me across the terminal, points at her phone, then gives me a thumbs-up, followed by some motion that I’m pretty sure is supposed to resemble riding on a train, but mostly looks like she’s being humped. Or rather, doing the humping.
A laugh slips out, and I quickly stifle it and shift my attention back to Lolo.
“I’ll explain everything when I get there,” I say. “And I will get there. And when I do, I can foist Katherine off on Meredith,” I say, referring to my sister. “She and Katherine always hit it off.”
I say it to reassure Lolo. To let her know that she’ll have my full attention from the moment I arrive at my parents’, but as soon as the words are out, I realize I’ve made a misstep and inadvertently reminded her that Katherine knew my family first. That Lolo’s not the only woman I’ve brought to meet the Walsh clan.
Something flickers in Lolo’s gaze that confirms my fear. “You okay?”
She gives me a wry smile. “Well, considering that my boyfriend’s just told me he’s bringing his ex-wife home for the holidays . . .”
“Right.” I let out a laugh. “So, not okay.”
“No, I’m . . .” She bites her lip. “I’ll have to think on that one. But it’s just . . . Has your family said anything about me? Since I’ve been here?”
“Well . . . no,” I admit. “But I hadn’t heard much from you either. I figured you guys were all busy getting to know each other.”
“We are,” she says in a rush. “I’ve been making a point to try to get to know each of them individually, as well as observe how they are in a group so that I can figure out how to fit in, but . . . I’m just not sure they like me?”
“Babe. They like you. They love you.”
She smiles, though it seems a little forced. “You’re right. I’m sure I’m just overthinking it. I’m just really excited for you to get here.”
“Believe me. Not as excited as I am.”
“Yeah, you’ve had quite a day.” Lolo fiddles with her earlobe. “Tom, I love that you’re helping someone who needs it. But doesn’t she have family who can help her? Or friends? I mean, why did you even get notified? You haven’t talked to her in years. Right?”
“Right, absolutely not,” I reassure her. “As far as why they called me, the accident happened right outside her office. I guess she forgot to update her emergency contact info at work.”
“She forgot,” Lolo repeats. She doesn’t add air quotes around forgot, but the emphasis is clear.
“Yeah, well, you’ve never met Katherine. Let’s just say managing her interpersonal life has never been high up on her to-do list.”
“I still don’t get why she can’t call a friend.”
“All of her friends are gone for the holidays. Lucky bastards managed to get out of town before the accident.”
“What about her family?”
My gaze shifts to Katherine. She’s ended her call and sat down. I watch as she pulls out two pill bottles, scowling down at the labels before taking one of each with a swig from her water bottle. Her eyes close, and she presses a clenched fist to her forehead. She looks a lot less like a dictator now and more like a woman whose cab was T-boned a few hours ago.
“No family,” I say, my voice quieter now. “Look, Lo, I know this sucks. I’ll make it up to you, I promise, but I’ve got to get going if I’m going to catch the train.”
“The train? How long will that take?”
Too long. Forever.
“The rest of the flights are all canceled due to the weather,” I explain.
Katherine looks my way, tapping impatiently on her watch and looking like, well, Katherine again.
“I’ve gotta run, babe. I’m really sorry. I know this sucks.” Shit. I’m repeating myself now. “But come Christmas Eve, I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”
She perks up like I knew she would. “Christmas Eve, huh? Got something special planned?”
“I think you’re going to like it,” I say, a little bit on autopilot, as I think of the ring in my bag. “Actually, I know you will.”
“I’m excited. I can’t wait to see you,” Lolo adds, clearly mollified. “And by the way, not every man would do what you’re doing. Katherine’s really lucky to have you.”
Katherine catches my eye and mouths, Wrap it up, dumbass, or I’m leaving without you.
“Be sure and tell that to Katherine when you meet her,” I tell Lolo. “I think she needs the reminder.”
EIGHTEEN
KATHERINE
December 23, 4:31 p.m.
Things not on my agenda for the holidays:
Sitting on a hard, sticky chair in a New Jersey train station . . .
In the middle of a freaking blizzard . . .
On my way to Chicago . . .
With my ex-husband in tow.
Now, to be totally fair, I suppose I’m technically the one in tow since I’m crashing his plans. But that’s just semantics. The end result is the same for both of us: misery.
That’s not to say I don’t feel a little guilty about our current situation.
Okay, fine.
A lot guilty. Especially when Tom shifts in his seat, lifts his loafer, and finds a huge wad of pink gum stuck to the sole.
He must be too beaten down by our whole journey, though, because instead of freaking out, he merely lets out a tired sigh and attempts to scrape it off on a cleaner part of the floor.
I feel for him, but I also can’t stop a little smile from sneaking onto my face. This is a fitting addition to our day, given that our first meeting involved gum on a shoe, though not Tom’s. Not mine either.