Dinner was tense. Brett wasn’t sure what, if anything, had been said in the whopping five minutes he’d left her alone with his mother, but it was obvious Regan was back inside her head and the tension had his dad wanting to claw his own skin off.
Mom, however, had a smile plastered on her face as she chatted away. It made him wonder if his sweet, dear mother could also be a serial killer?
“What’s Chicago like, Regan?” Julia cut up chunks of pot roast and took small, demure bites.
“It’s, uh, cold and windy, most of the time. Crowded, like all big cities, with amazing food and decent entertainment. Not that I go out much. It’s really expensive to live downtown, so I share an apartment with a roommate.”
“You do?” Brett hadn’t asked about where she lived, or any other details about her living conditions. Obviously, she wasn’t living with a boyfriend, not if she didn’t date anyone for longer than a few weeks.
“Yeah, I’ve had a lot of different roommates over the last twelve years. I definitely couldn’t afford my own place in New York, and in Chicago, well, I figured if I was going to live in a big city I better live within walking distance to work—which means a high-priced, sky-rise apartment.”
“Who’s your roommate?”
“Sam.”
Brett narrowed his eyes. “Sam?” A tinge of jealousy ran through his veins.
“Yes, I met him through Tim’s husband many years ago. He’s the best roommate ever. We’re both clean, eat mostly takeout, and like fashion magazines. Plus, he’s hardly ever home, as he spends a majority of his time over at his boyfriend’s house.” She slid him a coy smile as he visibly relaxed.
The idea of her living with a man, even a gay man, shouldn’t bother him. And yet it still kind of did. Or was it the idea of her living with anyone other than him?
His mom, once again, jumped in to save the conversation. “What about your parents? Where did they end up?”
Regan chewed thoughtfully on a chunk of glazed carrot. “My father took a job in Florida working on boat engines, while my mother and her husband both got government contractor jobs in Virginia.”
“Do you see them often?”
Brett caught his mother’s eye, wondering what she was up to. She gave him an innocent bat of her lashes, which raised the hairs on the back of his neck.
“Every few years. Usually when I’m traveling through for work.”
“Not for the holidays? What about Thanksgiving or Christmas?”
Ah, so that’s Mom’s game plan. She couldn’t imagine spending the holidays alone. Honestly, Brett couldn’t either, considering he’d never done so, even when he begged the family to leave him alone.
The first Christmas after Regan had left him was when he’d received the divorce paperwork. Smack dab between Thanksgiving and Christmas. In fact—crap—he hadn’t thought about it until now, but December tenth marked the twelfth anniversary of receiving said Christmas present.
Son of a bitch.
“Mom. What are you doing?” Brett asked through a clenched jaw.
“What, honey?”
Regan exchanged a look with him, telling him she also remembered what day it was. She visibly swallowed and set her fork down. “I don’t celebrate the holidays, Mrs. G. I haven’t in a long time.”
His dad, always quiet, always watchful, and unbelievably in tune with his children’s moods, spoke up for the first time. “Perhaps we should call it a night. We’ve had a few big days,” he patted Regan’s hand, “you more than anyone, and I think we’d all benefit from a good night’s sleep.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Brett grumbled, sitting at the table with his eyes closed. He rubbed small circles on the spot between his eyes, willing his building headache into submission. Maybe bringing Regan here had been a horrible mistake. Alone, just the two of them, he could push aside all the hurt and anger, as long as he had other things to focus his attentions on. And alone with Regan, he could always find other things to focus his attentions on.
But here in his parents’ house, with Regan hobbled, how would they escape their past?
“I’ll be right back.” Brett gave her a tight-lipped smile.
Regan watched helplessly from the chair as he got up and helped his parents take the dishes upstairs.
Her stomach churned what had been delicious pot roast into a lead weight in her stomach. She could hear Julia upstairs. “I don’t understand. What did I say?”
“Nothing, Mom. It’s okay.”
“But what did I say? I was only thinking about our Christmas ritual. We’ll be decorating the tree this Sunday.”
“I know. It’s okay. I’m going to take this downstairs and get Regan situated. Give us a bit.”
Julia said to Terrence as Brett walked down the stairs, “What happened?”
Regan looked up at Brett holding two plates of sweet potato pie. One of her favorites. But right now, she felt like throwing up. “She has no idea, does she?”
He shook his head. “No. I never saw the need to tell her.”
“Who all knows?”
“Alisha and Dad.”
She frowned and picked at the napkin covering her lap. “I never meant for the papers to arrive during the holidays.”
“When were they supposed to arrive?”
“Afterward. Late January seemed okay. Far enough removed from Christmas, birthdays, etc. The law clerk jumped the gun, getting ready to close the office for the holidays, and processed them early.”
“Late January would have ruined Valentine’s Day.” Brett’s jaw clenched.
“There never seemed to be a right time.”
“Maybe that’s because there was no right time.”
“I’d thought they would set you free and provide you closure.”
“Bullshit. You thought they would set you free.”
She nodded, casting her eyes back down into her lap. “That too.”
He sighed and sat down, putting the two pieces of pie on the table. “What a fucking mess.”
“I don’t want to ruin another Christmas.”
“Then don’t. We’re walking through a cow pasture here and are bound to step in it a few more times. But the best way for us to get through this is to talk. My family doesn’t need to know all of our business, but you and I need to be crystal clear.”
Regan wished she could stand up and wrap her arms around him. She had prayed he’d find happiness in her absence, and she wanted nothing more than to comfort him right now. “I’m sorry, for everything.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that. I don’t want you to say it anymore. What’s done is done. What we need is some new memories this Christmas.” He leaned over and grasped both wheelchair arms, putting his nose inches from her own. “Want to make some new memories?”
She tilted her head up and kissed his nose. “Please.”