Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
I laughed, taking the stuffed animal from her. “Your dad is smart. What’s it doing in here?”
“Oh, I gave it to him for a while because of his bad dreams.”
My heart skipped a few beats. “Bad dreams?”
“Yes. He said there’s a monster in them.”
I nodded slowly. “Oh.”
“He woke me up one night last week because he was yelling so loud, so I offered to let him sleep with Prewitt.” She made a face. “Then he hugged me, but he was all sweaty so it was gross.”
I tried to smile, but I’m not sure I did. “What—what night was that? When he woke you?”
“Hmm, let me think.” She squinted. “It was the night my grandma was gone. The night we watched The Grinch.” Her face lit up. “Hey, I bet that’s why Daddy had a nightmare about a monster!”
I swallowed, but the lump in my throat remained. “You could be right. But we better put Prewitt back so your daddy doesn’t miss him.”
“Okay.” She took the stuffed platypus from my hands and replaced it on Cole’s bed. “Daddy said you’ll share his room at the new house. So maybe he won’t need Prewitt.”
“And is that okay with you? If I share his room?”
“Sure. I can’t wait for you to live with us.” She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure she should say what was on her mind.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You can tell me anything.”
“He says he loves you the right way—the way that will last,” she said in one breathless rush. “I asked him, because I wanted to make sure it wasn’t the wrong kind that wears the costume.”
I smiled, even as the lump in my throat got bigger. “Thanks for looking out for me.”
“You’re welcome.” She looked proud of herself. “Should we go downstairs and open gifts? I have one for you.”
“I have something for you too,” I told her. “Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’ll use the bathroom down there.”
With one last glance at Cole’s bed, I turned off the light and shut the door.
That fucking platypus was making me want to cry.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. I could hardly look Cole in the eye because I was constantly on the verge of tears, but I held myself together. On the inside, though, I was a mess. If Cole was having such bad nightmares, why hadn’t he said anything to me about them? Did he think it was something he needed to hide? That it would make him less attractive? Or was it possible his bad dreams had something to do with our relationship? What about the timing? Was it coincidence he’d just started having them within the last week? That he’d had one the night he’d asked me to move in with him?
Stop it, I told myself. Stop being paranoid. This probably has nothing to do with you at all. You just have to talk to him, but NOT on Christmas Eve.
Mariah and I exchanged gifts—she went crazy over her blanket, nail polish, and lip gloss from me, and I squealed with delight at the giant black hoodie she’d gotten me that said RYDELL HIGH on the front above a big varsity letter R and Miss Dempsey on the back. “Mariah, it’s perfect! Thank you so much.”
My mother and I stayed late, helping to gather and distribute coats, wish departing guests Merry Christmas, and clean up. Mariah, exhausted but positive she’d be unable to sleep because she was so excited for Santa to come, eventually went up to bed, and Cole and I said goodnight to her together.
“It’s okay if I wake up early, right?” she asked him.
“Sure.” He yawned. “I have to be at work at seven, so I’ll be up early too. That way I can see you open some gifts if Santa comes tonight.”
“He will,” she said confidently. “The Santa tracker app said he’s over North America now.”
“Oh, good,” Cole said. “Then you better get to sleep.”
When we went downstairs, Mrs. Mitchell said goodnight as well.
“Night, Mom,” said Cole, dropping onto the couch.
“Let me know if you need help bringing up all the Santa gifts from the basement,” she whispered.
“I’m good,” he said, fighting off another yawn.
“I can help you,” I said, sitting next to him.
Mrs. Mitchell disappeared up the stairs, and it was just Cole and me.
“Want to open your present from me?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I grabbed the package I’d placed beneath their tree and set it in his lap. “Here. It’s not very exciting.”
He gave me a look, tore off the paper, and opened the box. “I love it,” he said, holding up the sweater. “Thank you.”
“You know how I love you in blue,” I said.
“You know I love it when you pick my clothing. Okay, now your turn,” he said, reaching under the tree and handing me an envelope the size of a greeting card that said Cheyenne on it in his handwriting.