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It’s like the moment in the Wizard of Oz when the Munchkins come out one by one to make sure the wicked witch really is dead. They don’t break into joyful singing right away. There’s that first minute of eerie silence, the fear that maybe they were wrong. Maybe a creature that evil and horrid will defy death, resurrect herself, and rain fiery torment on them for the rest of eternity.
Jake’s still standing behind the door. He’s stunned, like how a man who beats his girlfriend in a drunken rage probably feels when he wakes up sober and remembers what he’s done.
I haven’t moved from the couch, partly because I don’t want to wake up Natalie and partly because I don’t know what to expect from Jake now. I’m sure in his mind he’ll find a way to make this all my fault. I’m sure he’ll regret kicking out his mom and blame everything on me.
Except that’s not what he does.
He catches my gaze. I lift my eyebrow to him, and he laughs. It starts like a little chuckle. He’s got this annoying habit of giggling when he’s nervous, and that’s what this is like at first. But soon it turns into an all-out laughing fit, and I join in too. It’s like we’re watching Saturday Night Live reruns and we’re both completely baked so everything’s that much funnier.
“Did you hear what she said?” he asks.
“Did you see how she looked?” I answer, and we’re going at it again. My abs will be sore in the morning. I just know it.
And then the laughing stops. I wonder if this is the moment when regret will kick in. I brace myself for the accusations I’m sure are coming. He lifts Natalie out of my arms and carefully straps her in her bouncy chair. He takes my hand in his and sits next to me on the couch. Except his eyes aren’t angry.
He’s kissing me before I have time to catch my breath. I lean backward on the couch.
“I can’t believe she’s finally gone,” he whispers, and I’m so ready for him it doesn’t bother me that he’s talking about his mom while we’re making out.
“What’s gotten into you?” I ask him as he kisses my neck. My skin tingles with expectation. Hunger.
His hand runs up my leg. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” His lips are hot, his kiss probing and deep.
Maybe it’ll be a good Christmas after all.