Mistletoe Misses

Chapter 8

Maddox

F rom climbing up and down a ladder countless times over four hours, hanging lights over a street, of all things, my legs and back are still sore two days later.

As I sand the drywall patches at turtle speed, feeling every muscle scream in protest, the front door of Sadie and Carmen’s apartment opens and shuts. I check my watch, trying to figure out which one of them it might be when Sadie appears in the doorframe.

Her hair, the color of sunshine, is tied back with a white ribbon to match her snow boots and sweatshirt beneath a pink jacket. A matching blue, pink, and white plaid backpack scrapes the floor as she crosses to me.

“Hi, sweetie.” She rests an elbow on my shoulder, her pleasant smile dissolving any residual aches.

“Hi, yourself. On your way to school?”

“Yep. What are you doing?”

“Fixing the holes in the wall so I can paint.”

“I wish I could help today.” Her bottom lip pokes out in a slight pout. “Painting sounds way more fun than math and science.”

“Agreed.”

“What about after school?” she asks.

“I’ll save a wall for you. Which one do you want?”

Her arm stays connected to me as she decides. She points toward the kitchen. “The one under the bar. I can reach all of that one.”

“Smart choice. That’s why you’re the queen.”

A flash of sweetness beams in her cheeks before she skips out. Alone again, I get back to work, grateful to have something to look forward to later.

Her thick boots, pounding on the unfinished steps as she runs back up, echo across the hall. “I’m back.”

“Thank goodness. I missed you.”

“I was only gone a minute.” Her hand finds my shoulder again, and I love that about her. Affection and acceptance flow freely from her, making it easy to reciprocate.

“It felt like all day.”

“You’re silly.”

“Was there a reason you came back?” I ask. “Or did you just miss me too?”

“Both. Nana needs you.”

With exaggerated irritation, I fall back on the hardwood floor, bringing her down with me. Her giggles fill the empty room, and just like that, the apartment feels more like a home than a shell of what could be. She does the same to me, filling the void where my heart once beat wildly for life.

“I guess I better see what she wants,” I finally say. On my way up, I snatch Sadie around the middle and carry her down the stairs sideways as she squeals and laughs. Best. Sound. Ever.

“Nana! Save me!”

Smiling, Nana watches us carry on from the front counter. “You two are a mess. Sadie, you better get to the bus stop before you’re walking to school.”

“Can’t I stay with you today?” She manages to stick out her bottom lip in a pout despite being held upside down. The interesting angle makes me chuckle.

“Nope. School is important, and Maddox has work to do.”

“That’s okay. I’m his best helper.”

My only helper, but still the best. I wouldn’t want anyone else.

With her face turning red, I flip her right side up and set her on her feet.

“Does that mean you’re finally accepting my ideas for improvements?” I ask Nana. Before starting the demolition upstairs, I laid out my plans for updating both floors. She threw out every roadblock she could think of, and I had a solution for each one, including the cost. With my parents and I chipping in, she won’t have to spend a penny, and she’ll soon have the revenue stream she needs to do more than get by.

“No.” She scowls. “I have another job for you today.”

“See you after school,” Sadie calls on her way to the door, surely sensing another argument brewing.

“Nana, I’m busy fixing your building so it doesn’t crumble onto your hard head.”

“This will only take a few minutes.”

If this is her adding another speed bump to my plans, it won’t work. Yet, I surrender, knowing I can never refuse her, and let my dissatisfaction be known with a groan before asking, “What is it?”

“My friend is going away for a week and can’t take her sweet little girl. She’s needs a—”

“Babysitter?” I screech, preparing for my first ever Nana refusal.

“What? No. She can’t take her dog . Trixie has been her companion since her husband passed, and usually goes everywhere with her. She can’t this time.”

Muscles I didn’t know I had relax as my shock wears off. “Where do I come in?”

“Feed and let her out several times a day. Just make sure she’s okay. If anything ever happens to that dog …”

“Keep the dog alive. Got it.” That doesn’t seem too terrible. I like animals, and Trixie’s care will be a great excuse to get away when the need arises.

“She’s expecting you today so she can go over the details.”

“No problem.”

I pivot to head upstairs.

“Where are you going?” she asks, giving me déjà vu. It’s the pie entrapment all over again.

“Back upstairs.”

“But she’s expecting you.”

“You said today, not now.”

“Let me rephrase. She’s expecting you now.”

“Nana,” I protest pointlessly. When she sets her mind to something, there’s no changing it.

“Go on and meet Trixie before you get too dirty. I promise to stay out of your way for the rest of the day.”

I’ll believe that when I see it. “Fine, but I’m going to hold you to that promise. Staying out of my way also means no complaining where I can hear you. That’s just as disruptive.”

“No promises.” She winks and goes back to her ancient way of bookkeeping—on paper in a ratty, old three-ring binder.

I’ll tackle that issue later. Rolling my eyes, I forego the coat hanging on the door upstairs and head for the truck.

“Text me the address,” I call and step outside.

◆◆◆

“Maddox, it’s so good to see you again,” Nana’s best friend greets after opening the door.

Her dark gray hair is full of haphazardly placed curlers and only the left side of her makeup has been done. I usually wouldn’t notice something like that, but she applies eyeshadow like it’s 1980. Her bright pink tennis skirt and yellow and white-striped T-shirt match the eccentric personality I remember from my childhood. She’s hard to miss and even harder to forget.

A tiny white snowball of a dog sits snug in the crook of her bony arm as she pulls me in for a hug. She’s stronger than she looks and knocks the air out of my lungs.

“Hi, Ms. Dottie. Nana didn’t tell me it was you I’d be meeting.” That withheld detail kicks my suspicion meter up a few notices. “How have you been?”

“Seventy is the new forty, and I’m living it up.”

“As you should be.”

“Come in, come in.” She clutches my bicep with her free hand and urges me inside, transporting us to a tropical destination. Sand and ocean wallpaper, beachy decorations, and equally high air temperature assault and confuse my winterized system. No wonder she’s dressed for summer instead of Vermont’s freezing December weather. But that’s Dottie for you—always contradicting the norm. Sweat begins to bead on my back, and I’m glad I didn’t wear my coat. It must be ninety degrees in here.

“Can I get you anything?”

A fan, an open window, an ice bucket to dip my face into. “No thanks.”

We walk through the beach into another contradictory room. Colorful flowers and plants cover every surface, cascade over the tops of cabinets, and hang from the ceiling. It would be easy to lose Trixie in here, and I make a mental note of it. I hope she doesn’t expect me to keep this rainforest alive too while she’s gone. My thumb is as brown as they come.

“You’re very handsome.” She smiles over her shoulder as she removes a cup from the cabinet and sets it on the counter. “I always knew you would be. Your grandfather was the sexiest man in town back in the day.”

I’m not sure how to respond to that. “Uh, thanks?”

“I tried to catch his attention in high school, but he only had eyes for Lily. That also runs in your family.”

What the hell? I know everyone knows my history, but does it have to be brought up everywhere I go?

“Anyhoo. I appreciate you helping me with Trixie. I tried everything I could to take her with me, but my granddaughter is highly allergic to dog hair. If I want to see her, we must make this sacrifice.” She kisses Trixie’s little head, making the dog’s tail wiggle with delight. “We haven’t been apart since I brought her home.”

“I’ll take good care of her. When should I stop by to feed her and let her out?”

Dottie’s eyes widen as she stares at me. It goes on so long I start to panic. Is she having a stroke?

“Ms. Dottie?”

“Maddox.” Her free hand pats against her protruding collarbone like she’s counting the beats to a song, tears building and threatening to spill. “Trixie needs constant companionship.”

“She does? Nana said this was a check in on her when needed situation.”

“Lily knows better, and I gave her four pages of detailed instructions to pass along to you. I thought you were here to pick her up.”

Now my heart is playing a heavy metal drum solo, banging itself against my sternum. I can’t dog-sit 24/7. The last thing I need is something dependent on me for survival. I have things to do and my own flailing life to worry about.

“She’s never been alone. What if something happens?” Dottie continues to fret. “What if she injures a paw? Who will brush out the knots in her fur or take her for her daily walks? What if she needs something or gets lonely?”

She’s pacing through the forest now, conjuring up all the ways Trixie’s routine could be disrupted. Is that really so earth-shattering? It’s just a dog. Aren’t pets supposed to adapt to their owner’s life, not the other way around?

“I should cancel my trip. Thanks for coming, Maddox, but I’m going to call my daughter, and—”

“Don’t.” What am I doing? She gave me a way out. Take it, stupid. Take it and run. “If you’re okay with her hanging out with me at the bookshop and at Mom and Dad’s, I’ll take her.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her shoulders slump and relief spills down her cheeks. Yep, I’m the biggest pushover there is. “That’s just fine. She’ll be a good girl for you. Won’t you, princess?” She snuggles faces with Trixie and accepts all the doggy kisses she wants to give.

Then, Dottie launches herself into my arms, making Trixie yelp. She’s less thrilled about being pressed against my sweaty body than Dottie seems to be. She lingers like she’s searching for reassurance that I won’t let her down. I hope I don’t, but it seems to happen even when I try not to these days.

“You two get to know each other while I go print out your instructions.”

She hands over Trixie and leaves me standing there like a fool, wondering what in the heck I do now.

◆◆◆

Two hours of doggy details and witnessing Dottie and Trixie’s multiple agonizing attempts to say goodbye later, I climb into the truck with the miniature dog in tow, weakened from guiding them both through it. If Dottie’s over-the-top fretting and pages of instructions tell me anything, it’s that her little companion can’t be left alone. Ever .

It could be worse, I guess. At least she’s cute.

Driving back to the bookshop, the tiny dog sits on a fluffy pink bed in the passenger seat. Her round, black eyes peek through a soft, white mane of fur, giving off sad, tentative vibes—like she’s not convinced she’ll survive the week.

“Give me some credit, will ya? I’m responsible for lives and other irreplaceable things all the time at work.”

But never something as delicate as me , she seems to argue with a slow blink.

“You’ll be okay.”

Parking in the back, I scoop up Trixie in her bed and grab the large bag of toys, food, and supplies Dottie prepared to help make Princess Trixie comfortable in her new digs. She never vacates her spot in the corner of the room while I paint doors and baseboard trim unless I force her outside to do her business. So far, so good. I’ve got this.

By the time Sadie comes home from school, I’ve painted the living room and kitchen, saving her wall under the bar for last. The queen plays with the princess more than she paints, and I end up finishing that wall as well, but I don’t mind. Her endless questioning and giggles while the dog chases her through the apartment make the work far less lonesome.

Given my usual temperament, I should prefer the quiet solitude over a kid and dog underfoot. With both here, turns out, I don’t. I’m not annoyed or counting the minutes until Sadie finds something else to do. Instead, I find myself searching for reasons to keep her with me longer. We have so much fun, I don’t realize the sun has gone down until Carmen finds us in the back after closing the store.

“What’s going on here?” she asks, surprising us.

“Momma, I’m painting.”

“I see, and you’re doing a fantastic job.”

“I’m helping with Trixie, too.” She pets Trixie, who hasn’t left her side since she arrived.

“Why is she here?”

Sadie turns to me for the answer, realizing she’d been too excited to ask earlier.

“Nana volunteered me to dog-sit.”

“You know she has separation anxiety, right?” Concern, either for me or the dog—I can’t tell—hovers in her tone.

“I heard … after the fact.”

“Not good.”

“It’s fine.”

“Sadie, are you ready for dinner? I picked up pizza.”

“Yay!” She takes off toward their apartment with Trixie on her heels, but Carmen lingers behind.

In the soft lamp light, my mind jumps to a vision of the girl I once knew and how much I loved her, but I can’t go there. I turn back to the wall and my task, wishing for the memories and the woman to leave me alone.

“Would you like to join us?” she asks.

So much for wishes. “I don’t—”

“Please,” Sadie begs from the other room, and if Carmen hadn’t sucked the air out of my lungs with her beauty, I might have laughed.

“We’ll stay in the present, Maddox. I promise.”

Thanks to her confession the other day, her promise to keep our past out of our conversation is not one I can match. Outside of distractions provided by Sadie and Trixie, it’s all I think about.

“Please, sweetie!” Sadie yells, and Trixie yelps in response.

No matter how much I dread what an evening with Carmen might do to me, saying no to Sadie isn’t in my vocabulary. “Okay.”

“You’re welcome to clean up at our place. Do you have water in here yet?”

“I removed the sinks the other day. Let me finish this wall…” What am I doing? “And I’ll be over.” Shit.

“Thank you, Maddox. I’m looking forward to it.”

Wish I could say the same.

◆◆◆

I linger with my cleanup tasks longer than necessary to gather the nerve to voluntarily spend time with Carmen. The last two times happened unexpectedly, and my man card was traded in for one belonging to a spoiled child who didn’t get their way. I can’t lose my shit again, but she affects me in a way I can’t suppress. No surprise there. She always has, and I suspect, always will.

A better use of our time together would be finding a way past my resentment, instead of trying to live with it. Something, as Cooper so delicately pointed out, I’ve sucked at doing so far.

After tucking away the painting supplies, I travel the few steps to Carmen’s apartment and find the door open. Sadie greets me immediately, and I kneel to receive her embrace. Trixie follows, her tiny claws scraping my jeans as she tries to climb up. Reaching down, I scoop her up with my free hand, and she burrows between us.

“What took you so long? We had to put the pizza in the oven,” Sadie complains, but her usual banter adds too much charm for the scolding to have its intended effect.

“My bad. How can I make it up to you?”

She pauses, her eyes grazing the ceiling while she deliberates. “You can come to the duck race with me.”

“Sadie,” Carmen says, gliding into the room, her tone a warning.

She’s traded her General Store-logoed shirt and jeans for a fitted, cotton dress that hugs her figure like it was made for only her. The deep blue in the pattern seems to make her eyes of the same color glow brighter, and I can’t pull mine away. She would be stunning in anything, but for once, shock and the familiar pain of old wounds slicing open aren’t blinding me. I’m able to truly appreciate her, making something light, fluffy, and uninvited stir in my chest.

“Maddox already has plans tomorrow,” she clarifies, saving me from the usual nosedive my thoughts take when she’s nearby.

“You do?” Sadie turns to me, a dramatic pout on her cute face.

“I promised to help Easton. It’s his first race.”

Her forehead falls to my shoulder, and Trixie whimpers at her dip in energy. I’m in trouble.

“I’m sure I can help you both. There’s plenty of me to go around.”

Her head pops up, and so does Trixie’s. “Really?”

“Jada may not appreciate that.” Carmen’s smile is light and teasing when my gaze finds her again.

“Why not?” Sadie asks, turning to her mother.

“Let’s just say, she seemed excited to have Maddox all to herself.”

“But Easton will be there.”

“It’s a man-woman thing, darling.”

“Eww.”

“My thoughts exactly,” I commiserate.

“Maybe me and Mom being there will make it better.”

I don’t mean to, but my eyes dart back to Carmen over Sadie’s shoulder. Her tender grin transports me back to when she was my everything—my dreams, my reason for breathing, my wish list and favorite present for every special occasion.

To keep myself from stumbling down that road again, I kiss Sadie’s cheek. “You make everything better, queenie.”

“Queenie?” Carmen asks with a laugh as I release my two favorite girls and stand.

“I call him sweetie,” Sadie yells as she takes off down the hall with Trixie scampering after her, leaving me unprepared.

Last time I was left alone with Carmen like this, confessions I never expected to hear rocked my system. My overreactive heart isn’t helping my nerves relax, and I’m on the verge of making some confessions of my own. I’ve missed this. I can’t handle being here. I need to hold you. I can’t risk my heart again.

Every one of those terrifies me, so I switch to a safer topic to hold myself together. “She earned the nickname when we practiced her lines for the play.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember now. She was so excited that night. You changed her perspective on the part.”

“I just gave her another option to think about. She did the rest.”

She shrugs then motions toward my dusty clothes and paint-stained hands. “Would you like to wash up?”

“Probably a good idea before I ruin your furniture.”

While I wash up at the kitchen sink, Carmen moves about the room, adding place settings to the little square table nearby. There are three chairs, two matching and one added from another part of the house. The table barely fits two people, much less three, and I’m not ready for the intimacy that creates.

“Would you like a beer?” she asks when I turn off the water.

“Sure.”

How can she be so casual? I’m crawling out of my skin, alternating between wanting to stay far away and holding her close. Both sound like exactly what I need to survive this evening.

She calls for Sadie, and I’m grateful for the distraction and the calming light she brings with her.