Page 48 of Wicked Love

“Sa…sl…g…e.” Was the line bad, or was Lea too out of it to speak coherent words?

Clenching and unclenching my other hand, I tried to keep calm.

“Lea, I can’t hear you. Where are you guys?”

“Sorry, I got distracted. Santa’s Lodge. It’s karaoke night, and Grace is rocking the stage.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Grabbing my key and wallet, I hauled myself behind the wheel. My attention was aimed at the road, and the low visibility in the dark prevented my anger from worsening.

I entered Santa’s Lodge, scanning the place, looking for a blonde girl.

As if we were in sync, our gazes locked from a distance.

My heart pounded in my chest.

Grace turned her head and returned to the song she was singing.

When did she change? When she left earlier, she was wearing jeans and a sweater. Now she was wearing a tiny red dress and a Santa hat. I didn’t miss the eyes of the patrons undressing her. Yeah, guys, get in line.

Lea met me before I could reach the stage.

“Hi Joe,” she singsonged. “You came?” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes, shiny.

“What’s going on?” I pointed to the stage. “How did this happen?”

“Grace and I caroled together for a while, and when she suggested that we go for a drink, I thought it was a good idea. We ended up here, and the cocktails kept coming. I have to go home, and I didn’t want Grace to be all alone. I thought we could share a car, but she refuses to leave.”

“Thanks, I’ll take care of it from here. You okay to get a ride?”

“Yes. Rose is picking me up. All fine.”

I nodded. “Fine. Thanks for calling me.”

“And Joe, fair warning. She’s mad at you. Said you don’t love her.”

I sighed. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

She left, and I stood still for a short beat, watching Grace sing in her too-short, naughty Mrs. Claus dress.

The song ended, and she lifted her drink above her head, people cheering as she downed it in one go.

“Party’s over,” I said, nearing the stage.

“No. It’s overrrr when I say it’s overrrr,” Grace argued, slurring her words.

“Let’s go home.” I motioned to grab her hand, but she stepped back.

“No. I’m chooooosing to be here, and you don’t have a say in my whereaboutttts. Go back to bed, and let me be.”

“Not how it works. Sorry to disappoint you.”

She lifted a finger. “It’s almossst my birth”—hiccup—"day. I’m allowed to…to drink and to… What was I saying? Oh yes, I’m allowed to fuck F. U. C. K. whoever I want because I’m an adult and I make the decisions. All of them. Do you hear me, Joe? I am the boss of me. Not you, not my mom. Me.”

I inched closer and looped one arm around her waist. “Lean on me. I have you.”

“No. You don’t understandddd. And you are nooooot listening. You’re not allowed to touch me. It always huuuuurtsss me afterward, and I don’t want to be sad because, Joe, you make me sad. Super sad. S.A.D. And happy too. Like you are the sun in my sky. But also, verrrry sad when you push me away.”