I smash my palm against his nose. “Am not.” But I’m giggling.
“You are,” he says with conviction. I feel his lips tickle my forehead. Then his arms are locked around my shoulders. He’s pulling me against him. Silence throbs around us.
“God—I fucking love you, Gwenna.”
“I love you.” I love his smell, the feel of him… I’m smiling as he slides into the driver’s seat. He takes my hand.
I feel him doing something with it. I look down. There’s something heavy…
“Merry Christmas, Piglet.”
I hold my arm up to my face and see three thin bracelets. They’re smooth and dark. I sit up and flip the visor down. They sparkle.
“Oh my God. Did you—” They’re bangle bracelets made of polished wood, and in the center of each bracelet is a line of tiny diamonds. My eyes fly to his. “You made these.”
“Yeah.” He smiles. His fingers touch the bracelets. “From a tree along our property line. Don’t worry, it had fallen.”
I giggle. “Like me.”
He frowns.
“For you.”
I throw myself at him, end up falling on the console in between our seats, and then fall victim to a minor bout of hysterical laughing.
“Barrett,” I gasp. I start howling.
I can feel him laughing, too, his chest bumping into mine as his low chuckles fill the car.
“I’m sorry,” I cackle. “I love them so much. And you.”
By the time I pull out of his lap, I have to wipe tears from my eyes. The tears pick up steam again as I look at the bracelets. “God, they’re perfect. Thank you, Bear.”
I wipe my face, but that just seems to make the tears flow faster. Then I’m crying in my hands. I don’t know why.
“No… Piglet.” Barrett’s leaning over to me now, his hands on my shoulders. “Hey… It’s Christmas, and you’re Santa, right? Striptease Santa doesn’t cry on Christmas.”
I laugh, still crying.
“You’re a sad one. A sad drunk,” he murmurs, wiping my tears with his fingers.
I nod.
“Better than a mad one, baby. Better than a mad one.”
I settle eventually, and Barrett runs back into my mo
m’s house and gets some water for me. I look at the bracelets, winking like a bunch of little guiding lights.
And that’s when I realize: I am a mad one. I’m a mad drunk, and I’m mad sober. Because I love Barrett, so much. I love him, but I can’t move on. I can’t write a new story with Bear because I’m missing a huge chapter of my old one.
NINETEEN
Gwenna
January 1, 2012
1:11 a.m.