So I suspected he’d understand what was important and end up sharing Christmas with his family.
“Right, brother, I gotta go. They’re having the annual Christmas party at our local and we gotta get to town,” I said.
“Okay, Jussy.”
“Call me and let me know what you decide…about everything,” I ordered.
“Will do and…um…well…” he trailed off. I waited. Then he finished it, “Say hey to Deke for me.”
“I will. Love you, Mav.”
“Back, Jussy.”
“Later.”
“Yeah. ’Bye.”
We hung up and I looked to Deke.
“That sounded like it went good,” he remarked.
I nodded, reaching beyond him to the envelope sticking out of the delivery. “He’s now got multiple offers to consider.” I pulled the card to me and grinned at my man. “Told you he was talented.”
“Not like I didn’t believe you, babe,” he muttered, his mouth twitching.
I bent my head, opened the little envelope and pulled out a florist card with a Christmas design on it.
The message read:
Jussy,
Love you. Miss you. You’re always in my heart. I hope I’m still in yours. We’ll talk in the New Year. Merry Christmas.
Bianca
“Who’s it from?” Deke asked.
I looked up to him and didn’t answer. I handed him the card.
He read it and even through his beard I saw his jaw get tight.
But the irritation disappeared when he looked back at me.
He got close, lifted a hand and cupped my jaw.
“I should tell her she’s in my heart,” I whispered, my voice gruff.
“Probably,” Deke murmured.
“I’ll find a way to do that at the same time sharing I need a little more time,” I told him.
“Good idea.”
My grin was shaky.
This was because I worried about her.
But I was glad she’d reached out. I was glad she seemed to have gotten it together. I didn’t know exactly how that was, but from what I did know, I wasn’t certain I agreed with the path she was taking.
That would never negate the fact that she was, indeed, in my heart.
And always would be.
“I’ll text her tomorrow. Let her know her delivery arrived,” I said to Deke. “But we should go now, honey.”
“Yeah,” he got closer, his expression shifting the mood as it filled with amusement. “Warning, Jussy. You’re about to get a full-on blast of Laurie at Christmas.”
He thought this would freak me.
He wasn’t the only person who’d told me Lauren Jackson Christmas stories so it might.
But still.
I couldn’t wait.
*
“Okay,” my voice was shaking with suppressed laughter, “never in my life would I think Laurie could best Twyla.”
We were on our way back home from Carnal’s Christmas party at Bubba’s and doing a debrief.
It seemed the whole town showed up, the place jam-packed, the outside strung with so many lights, it was certain they could see it in the next county. The inside decorated, every inch, in Christmas.
There were deli trays all around and a big vat of eggnog that I avoided because it was spiked so deep, one sip of it, I couldn’t taste nog, only rum and it went right to my head.
I didn’t want to be hammered. I wanted to be buzzed sweet and enjoy every second of my first experience with what had become Carnal’s official kickoff for Christmas.
Lauren, however, got sloshed out of her mind. And when she went to the jukebox, pulled the plug (on Christmas songs, she’d filled the damn thing with nothing but starting on December first) and demanded loudly everyone needed to start singing—you guessed it, Christmas songs—Twyla declared that, at least for her, would not be happening.
Laurie got in her face. Somehow it was decided an arm wrestling match would determine the winner, and then to everyone’s surprise, with a lot of hilarious grunting, Twyla’s eyes getting bigger and bigger in her head as it came clear the way it was going, Lauren’s Christmas monster came out and she beat Twyla at arm wrestling.
An amazing feat.
Thus Twyla sang “Holly Jolly Christmas” and “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” with Lauren while Jim-Billy put in his astonishingly good baritone, a bunch of three-sheets-to-the-wind bikers and their babes and another bunch of locals chimed in.
But not Deke, Tate, Ty, Chace, etc. because mountain men apparently didn’t sing Christmas songs in public, but they did laugh their asses off watching Twyla do it.
Twyla then exited the premises pronto, dragging a giggling, waving and drunk-off-her-ass Cindy behind her.
It.
Was.
A blast.
The whole night.
The best kickoff to Christmas I’d ever had.
Truly.
Even besting the ones Dad and Joss initiated, and they were both holiday fiends.
But not like Lauren. I swear her breath smelled like peppermint, that’s how deep she lived and breathed Christmas.
This could have been Schnapps, though.
“Told you,” Deke said, his voice a smile.
“Yeah,” I agreed, watching him turn up my lane.
“Good night,” he whispered.