Page 29 of Split Decision

"How do you always know?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"It's a gift. Spill it," she says.

I rake my hand over my face. I don't want to say this onChristmas. I also know that not saying it is its own kind of problem.

"I keep thinking about January," I admit. "About leaving you here in the middle of all of this." I pause. "I know we've made our decisions and they're the right ones. I just—I don't love the timing."

She's quiet for a moment. Then she sits up and turns to look at me. "You've been thinking about that all day."

"Since about the turkey," I admit.

Her face does the thing—the softening that isn't pity, the warmth she has when she decides to meet something directly instead of around it. She leans in and kisses me once.

"We've talked about this," she says. "We decided together."

"I know we did."

"And the decision was right."

"I know that too."

"Then what you're doing right now is borrowing trouble from January on Christmas Day." She holds my eyes. "Don't do that."

I nod.

She's right. She's almost always right about this specific thing—the way I can take a future problem and carry it into a present moment that didn't need it yet. She has always been better at living in the day that's actually happening.

I try to let it go.

It doesn’t go very far.

"Yes, ma'am," I say.

She settles back against my chest. I pull her in, and for a while, we just watch the movie that neither of us could summarize if asked.

"Shane leaves the same day," I say, after a while. "Joe wanted us both acclimated at the same time. Does Katie know yet?"

"I don't think so." She tilts her head slightly. "She's going to handle it the same way she handles everything Shane-related."

"Which is?"

"Badly, then fine."

"Did you have a good Christmas?" I ask.

Her beautiful smile lights up her face and her eyes. "Yes, this has been the best Christmas ever. You're the best man, Luke."

"No, I'm not," I say seriously. Her face drops when she hears my tone. "I'm the groom." I burst out laughing, and she smacks me repeatedly with the couch pillow.

The past sixdays have escaped from us like grains of sand through our fingers. Andi had the week off from rehearsal since the various band members scattered to different states for the holidays with their families. We've spent every minute of every day and night together. Even the dreaded day-after-Christmas shopping that I may never recover from. I thought this time alone with her would give me my fill, hold me over until I could see her again, but the opposite has happened.

I don't want to go without her. I don't want to leave her.

"So, Mack called today," I start, and see her cringe.

"And?" she asks tentatively.

"Syndi sent over a prep document for the first round of interviews," I say. "Twelve pages. With a glossary."