Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Gabriel laughs beside me. “She doesn’t.”
“But she’s going to meet a guy about a horse.” I point at the door she just went out of.
“Sweetheart, that’s a Southern saying”—he tries to contain his laughing—“it means she’s going to take care of some business, and it’s private, and also it’s none of our business.” My mouth literally hangs open while he steps up to the counter and orders me a coffee. “Add one of everything you have back there. If you can bag it up, I’ll pick it up later,” he tells the woman, who just nods at him and makes me a coffee.
“So she isn’t going to buy a horse?”
“No,” he confirms, handing the woman cash, “she is not. I don’t even know if she still rides her horse.”
“Wow,” I say. “I’m going to have to remember that one.”
“You do that, Sweetheart.” He hands me my coffee and puts his hand on my lower back to walk me out of the store. We hit up every store on the street, but I’m happy to report, by the end of the afternoon, I have checked every name off the list.
“I’ll come and get you tomorrow,” Gabriel states when he helps carry the bags into the house.
“Um, are you insane? We are not arriving together. I will meet you there.”
He rolls his eyes. “No one is going to notice.”
“Yeah, okay, you think that, you would be wrong,” I tell him when he takes me in his arms. “I’ll meet you there.”
“I won’t see you until then,” he complains, and I ignore the little bit of the dread I am feeling today, except it’s a bit bigger than it was this morning.
“You’ll survive,” I tell him softly before he bends and kisses my lips. “Go get your boy.”
I walk with him to the door as he walks to his truck, holding up my hand to wave goodbye to him, hoping I'll do it with my heart intact when I leave in less than a week.
20
GABRIEL
“Love you, kiddo.” I hug Colson and kiss his head. “Have the best time,” I tell him as he gives me a big hug and looks up at me. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Okay, Dad,” he replies before running up the steps and into the house. The kids squeal when they see him. I hold up my hand to Patricia, who smiles at me and then closes the door. Pulling out my phone, I call her right away.
“Merry Christmas,” she answers the phone.
“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart,” I return, getting into the truck. “I just dropped off Colson; will be there in ten.” I pull out.
“I will be ready,” she replies, disconnecting. When I get there, she sits outside on the step with a big box next to her wrapped in silver paper and a huge red bow. She gets up when she spots the truck, the smile on her face hitting me in the gut and then weaving its way to my chest. Having her there last night with my family was a strange feeling. It felt like she’d been there all along. Colson was excited she was there, and he was telling her about the ornaments we have to remember this Christmas. She hugged him and kissed the top of his head, and it shifted something inside me. Something I needed to get a handle on. Something I knew could never work. But we have today, so I’m going to take advantage of it. The minute I have the truck door open, she shouts, “Merry Christmas, Cowboy!” Her eyes light up, and she skips to me. Her whole face lights up, her eyes shining bright. I make a mental note of this picture, but something in me knows I will never, ever forget it.
“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” I wrap my arm around her as she throws her arms around my neck. My head comes down to kiss her, something I didn’t do all night because we both knew eyes were on us. That didn’t mean we didn’t stay together or sneak in those little touches, but we knew we would be pushing it if we both disappeared, so we didn’t. Now she is in my arms, and I don’t want to let her go, even to get into the truck. But she steps away from me. “Get in the truck. I’ll get the gift.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t fight with me, and I get the gift, which is surprisingly light compared to the box size. I get into the truck and hold her hand the whole way back to my house. “How was Christmas morning?” she asks, looking over at me.
“It was good. He was a happy camper.” I smile. “Did you speak to your folks?”
“I did,” she confirms, and I thought she would be sad, but she sounds like herself. “FaceTimed everyone this morning. Made plans to meet up next week.” The words sting, especially when her voice trails off, and neither of us says anything else after that.