Second Chance Christmas: A Holiday Sweet Romance by Catelyn Meadows

Author:Catelyn Meadows [Meadows, Catelyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cortney Pearson
Published: 2019-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Saylor wasn’t sure what to wear to this party. Construction implied casual work clothes, but party meant dressier. She settled for something in the middle, her nicest pair of black pants and a stylish shirt that, for once, wasn’t tainted with memories.

Except hiding beneath the red shirt she plucked from her dresser was the gray one she’d stuffed back in here on Christmas Eve, the one she’d worn home from the hospital after Parker was born. She lifted it from the drawer once more, remembering its soft feel on her skin and the way it hung past her waist, baggy enough to be comfortable.

The sight was almost dizzying in an extremely irrational way. “It’s a shirt,” Saylor chided herself through the painful tightness in her throat. History dredged itself up, but she shoved it down, inhaling against the spots flashing in her vision. Ridiculous, that a slip of fabric could have this effect on her after so long.

“I’ve got to stop this.”

Wadding the shirt into her fist, she marched to the cardboard box by the front door, which was overflowing with baby clothes piled on top of some of Parker’s old toys and other books she hadn’t read in years and didn’t plan to read again.

She hesitated. It was strange. She missed those stages with Parker too, seeing him crawl all over the house and chew on his tiny fists. Why wasn’t it harder to get rid of those little insignias of that time in her life? The box was full—it was ready to go out to her trunk, to be dropped off at the thrift store. She should let the shirt go, add it to the stack. But her fist wouldn’t open.

“Ready, Mom!” Parker bounded out of the hallway in t-shirt, jeans, and Captain America socks. Saylor smiled at him, her thoughts still whirling.

“Just one more minute,” she told him, hurrying back to her room. With a brick in her chest, she returned the shirt to its drawer, slammed the drawer shut, and helped him find his boots.

They located one under his bed. After fifteen minutes of looking for Parker’s other boot, she found it behind the dryer. Saylor was starting to think she should charge this kid a finder’s fee.

“You got it?” he said.

“I’ve got it. Come on. You can put it on in the car.”

Saylor carried him outside, juggling him on one hip long enough to lock the front door of their house behind her. They shuffled down the snowy path to their white car. She opened the back door for Parks and handed him his other boot after helping him buckle in.

Saylor settled herself into the driver’s seat. The car gulped a few times, struggling, too cold to want to start.

“Come on,” Saylor said under her breath as it churned, the engine noises whirring. “You can do this.”

“Is it dead, Mommy?”

“No, bud. Just cold.”

Finally, the car started, and they passed through town, turning on Blue Lakes Boulevard. Stores and restaurants lined either side, the street crammed with traffic.

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