He belted out a laugh. “No, that’s not it. I admit I like being here to watch the changes in you.”
“But I’m a stranger.”
“Are you?”
She didn’t understand and shook her head in confusion.
“You’ve shared more of yourself than you realize. Now, you can call me a stranger all you want, but I brought you canned meat, and strangers don’t do that. We’ve upgraded, Kim. Bodyguard Non-Date, get excited. Now let’s do some more bonding and build a fire on your front lawn and burn some shit.” He stood and cleared their plates as she stared after him, dumbfounded.
“Oh,” he said, turning back to her, “and ignore the yellow snow on the corner of your house. My lion took a piss.”
“Why would your lion pee on my house?”
“Because,” Burke said with an unapologetic smile, “he’s territorial, too.”
Chapter Nine
There were twenty-seven text notifications on her phone as she stood on her front porch—her front porch—and sipped a mug of steaming coffee. She still had fifteen minutes before she needed to start opening the pottery shop, but she’d come out here to get a breath of fresh, freezing air and clear her head. Or perhaps just to take a moment to mentally prepare for tonight’s shit-show.
Twenty-seven new notifications, but she cared about only one.
Good morning, snob. Busy day with deliveries today but I’ll be there at six to pick you up. Last night was fun. Illuminating and fun.
Illuminating? What did Burke mean by that? At least he’d had fun. And he still wanted to go to the party with her, so he wasn’t completely turned off by her as a person. Bonus, bonus.
She’d cried at the table, admitted more than she’d ever intended, and then they’d burned the memories in box number five.
A thin trail of smoke still wafted from the burn barrel. A fresh layer of snow coated the ground, drowning out any evidence that they’d been there last night at all. She crunched through the snow to the barrel and peeked inside. Evidence did remain. The ashes were the only remnants of her past. No more perfect pictures existed except for one scalded one that remained at the top, charred and blistered around the edges. Half of it was missing—the half with Brayden—and only she remained.
Only she remained.
A tremulous smile took her lips, and the weight lifted from her shoulders. She hadn’t even realized how heavy she’d felt, dragging all this baggage. It was okay that Brayden had a girlfriend. She didn’t wish a miserable life on him. She hoped he could be happy, just as she now hoped for happiness for herself.
He wasn’t a bad man. He just hadn’t been good for her.
Today was New Year’s Eve, and everyone spoke of resolutions. All over social media, all through her family. Resolutions for the upcoming year were this huge thing that she’d never appreciated before. Every year until now, she’d wished for selfish things: more money, better looks, a bigger house. This year would be different, though.
This year, she wanted to be a better person, whatever that meant. She wanted to get to the end of this upcoming year and look back and feel proud of herself for the first time ever.
There was a lot of work she needed to do between now and then, but she was going to do it. She would. Already the changes in her, no matter how small, made her heart feel better. Freer, perhaps.
Kimberly took another sip of her coffee and began to read the text messages from the family thread. Beth was complaining about the seamstress altering her dress too tight around her waist, Danielle was asking what Chef Jeffrey was making for appetizers, and Mom was blowing up the loop to make sure everyone would be on their best behavior tonight.
Kimberly, I’m concerned. After our meeting at the house, I’m worried you don’t have your head in the right place. There will be several eligible bachelors at our party tonight. I have attached a list of names and their accomplishments. I want you to wear the flowy white dress I bought you for your birthday. We need these gentlemen to see your beauty and think of you in a wedding dress.
Kimberly?
Kimberly are you reading this?
Respond now. You’re taking up too much of my head space with these things. I need to focus on organizing for the party tonight.
Kimberly!
I need everything to be perfect tonight. Brayden is coming and I don’t want you looking like a lost puppy. You need to look as if you are unaffected. There hasn’t been a Wilson divorce in four generations. I don’t want this to take any of our prestige away.
KIMBERLY?!?!?!
Kimberly snapped a selfie of herself in her blue sweater, leggings, and UGGs, complete with a beanie on her head and minimal make-up on. She grinned brightly. I’m wearing this tonight. Send.
Leslie’s response came through first. Haaahahaha, okay but you look hot. I’ll match you.
Mom probably just fainted again. Beth.
Because she is so stunned by your casual beauty, Leslie assured her. I’ll be to the shop in ten. I’m grabbing us bagels.
Bagels will go straight to Kimberly’s hips! Mom texted. Leslie, I demand you stop corrupting your sister right now. She’s not a lost cause.
Something about that pissed her off. And Leslie is? Send.
She’s a lion shifter who is constantly covered in paint, tells filthy jokes at every family function, makes everyone uncomfortable, doesn’t care about our prestigious name, and lives in sin with her animal boyfriend.
Mate, Leslie corrected her.
Kimberly speed-typed, AND future husband. Send. Why was her blood boiling so bad right now? Leslie hadn’t done anything. She’d told a joke in the loop, and Mom had just insulted everything about her life.
Whoa what is happening here? Danielle. Kimberly are you sticking up for Leslie? Hell has frozen over.
Kimberly speed-typed out, Leslie is currently my favorite family member. She didn’t judge me or remind me for the hundredth time that there hasn’t been a divorcee in our precious fucking family for the last four generations. She is giving me space to figure my shit out, but is still there for me and has yet to judge me, not even a little bit. I’m wearing the red dress I wore at Beth’s birthday party, Mom. It’s Burke’s favorite. Send.
Leslie responded with a mic drop gif just before Kimberly turned off her phone so she could avoid any negativity that accompanied one of Mom’s dramatic moods. She’d had a great night last night with Burke, and today Leslie was training her on the kilns, because you know what? Her sister was trusting her more and more with her shop, and Kimberly knew how much this place meant to Leslie. She—Kimberly Shame-of-the-Family Wilson—was earning the trust of people she respected. And that made her feel good.
Good shit only. That was her new mantra.
As she turned away from the burn barrel, the wind kicked up so that her burnt picture lifted and flew out of the barrel, landing in the snow at the toe of her shoe.
For a second, she stared at herself in that picture. In it, she was wearing a soft pink dress that hugged her curves perfectly, and her smile was big and perfectly trained, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t want to take pictures like that again.