Page 55 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
I... I don’t even know what to do with that. How to react.
How to process.
Because . . . what?
Thankfully Storee breaks me from my spell as she gestures to the seat across from her. “Sorry about him. Please don’t run away. I’d still love to have coffee with you.”
Taking a seat, still slightly shook, I say, “Oh, no need to apologize. It’s fine.”
“I just know that things are tense between the two of you.”
I wave her off. “Seriously, no need to worry. We can be civil.”
“That’s what he informed me of when he bumped into me, and I told him you were on your way, so get the hell out of here. But of course Flo wasn’t letting go of him.”
Florence, that’s the baby’s name.
“You know, it’s annoying when you feel your kid likes your husband’s best friend better.”
I chuckle. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’d choose you over him.”
She presses her hand to her chest. “At least I have you on my side.”
“Sorry, ladies, don’t mean to interrupt,” Atlas says, coming back with that deep voice, startling me. When I look to my left, he’s standing there with that freaking grin again, holding out a tray. “I went ahead and ordered you both the peppermint hot chocolate cookie, and I also have your drink here, Betty. Told Tanya I’d deliver it for her so she could take a rest. It’s only going to get busier from here.”
Umm . . . what’s happening?
Why is he acting like a saint?
Like the jolly neighbor, ready to lend a helping hand when called upon?
He sets down two plates with giant cookies on them and then places my drink right in front of me. When he rises, he tucks the tray under his arm, and I don’t know what comes over me, but I say, “Why are you being nice to me?”
My question catches him by surprise, because his brows raise as Storee chuckles.
“I don’t mean that to sound rude, but seriously, why?”
“I’m more being nice to my friend Storee.” He lifts his chin.
“That’s so not the truth,” Storee says as she crosses one leg over the other with a smirk.
“Yes, it is,” he says.
Storee shakes her head and laughs. “No, it’s not.” Then she looks at me and says, “It’s because he thinks you have really pretty eyes.”
Uhh . . . what?
Excuse me?
Did I hear that right?
I turn my attention to Atlas for some sort of confirmation that she’s joking, but when I read his expression, all I see is him staring daggers at Storee.
Wait . . .
Is she serious?
From his reaction, I’m assuming yes.
