Page 78 of A Love Like Christmas Time
“That’s more than okay.” I lift our hands to my face and press a kiss to the back of hers.
“My parents are getting a divorce,” she says rather nonchalantly, taking another sip of her coffee. “And that’s not even what bothers me most about it. It bothers me more that their divorce bothers me at all.” I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes at her, confused.
“Sorry. I’m lost. Talk me through it from the beginning?”
“My parents and I haven’t been close for years,” she explains as I pull her towards the sofa. “My mom always pestering me about settling down wasn’t exactly an incentive to keep in touch. They never initiated contact, either. Aside from demanding I spend holidays with them and attend birthday celebrations, but that was almost more a case of ‘what would the others say if we didn’t invite her?’”
She sits down next to me, pulling her legs onto the couch. “And I thought I had made peace with that. I can sit throughoccasional family gatherings; pretend I’m having a good time and keep an emotional distance. But this divorce…” She shakes her head. “My father asked me to help manage my mother, because she’s apparently contesting their prenup. After all those years of ‘keeping out of it,’ now he wants me to mediate?” I humorless chuckle leaves her, and she shakes her head.
“What did you tell him?”
“To fuck off. Admittedly, in a little more, but not necessarily nicer words.” She shrugs. “But the more I think about it, the angrier it makes me.”
Jenna jumps off the cat tree and trudges over to us, climbing up Lauren’s jeans-clad leg. Once she reaches her thighs, Lauren scoops her up to kiss her little head, then sets her back down in her lap and lets her cuddle into her shirt.
“All those years, he never picked a side because it would have been ‘unfair’—” she lifts her hand for air quotes “—and now’s the time to throw his own words back into his face. I’m not going to lie, that felt good.” She lets out a deep breath. “But yeah. I wish I didn’t care, but it’s bringing up all kinds of emotions.”
“I’m sorry.” I squeeze her hand.
She pulls her hand from my grasp, lifts my arm and melts against my side instead. “Maybe it’s time to take a page out of Nic’s book and make a hard cut. Just block them and move on with my life. But I feel dumb about it, because it’s not like they were as cruel as Nic’s parents or—”
“Yeah, stop right there,” I interrupt her. “If there’s one thing therapy has taught me, it’s that you make these kinds of decisions for yourself, not depending on anyone else.”
She lifts her chin and glances up at me.
“Yes, Nic’s parents are a special kind of cruel,” I say, thinking back to the fall fair. They not only condoned Nic's sister embarrassing her in front of the whole town, they also knew about Nic's ex-fiancé's affair with said sister. They even supported those two when they tried to extort Nic. “That doesn’t meanyou wouldn’t be justified in cutting off your parents solely because they’re not quite as bad as Nic’s. You’re trying to compare every single experience that shaped you and Nic into the women you are today. That’s impossible. You have to draw your own boundaries and defend them.”
“You’re so wise.”
“My therapist is,” I point out. She slowly shakes her head.
“Say ‘thank you’ and take the compliment, Caleb.”
“Well, in that case, thank you.” I grin and press a kiss to the side of her head.
“You’re right.” She lets out a deep sigh. “What is it this Marie Kondo chick says? If it doesn’t spark joy, it needs to go. I never thought it would apply to people, too.”
“I have no idea what or who you’re talking about.”
“That’s okay.” She pats my arm. “Thank you, Caleb.” She tilts her head back, finally more relaxed. “That helped a lot.”
“Always a pleasure.” I grin and close my eyes when she presses her lips to mine.
“And you’re okay?” I nod.
“Believe it or not, I can talk about other people’s parents without getting a panic attack,” I assure her, surprising myself. Truthfully, I wondered myself how I would feel. Turns out therapy did help after all.
“Thank God.” She grins and cuddles back into my side. “Look at us working through our first fight.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Is it weird that I find that oddly reassuring?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No, it’s not weird. It’s part of life, and I’d rather be sure we can talk out conflicts like adults than tiptoe around them.”
“I couldn’t have said it better.”
“In the spirit of honesty, do you want to talk about your… parent?” Lauren asks in a whisper and glances up at me, taking a sip of her coffee.
“’Want’ would be an overstatement,” I try to joke, but she keeps watching me with a concerned gaze. I let out a deep sigh. “I read that book about postpartum depression.”
