Page 154 of Rock Bottom Girl

What’s right for someone else doesn’t make it right for you.It sounded true. It had that Oprah A-Ha Moment ring to it. But it was easier for Jake, I reminded myself. He hadn’t spent the years since high school failing. He didn’t have a perfect older sister who set the example for success. He didn’t have to think about whether or not heshouldstart a family. He didn’t have an empty savings account and no place to live. Jake Weston was right where he belonged, doing what he was meant to be doing.

“Okay, so tell me about a Christmas without kids,” I asked. “You’re not building dollhouses or moving elves on shelves. What are you doing?”

“So here’s how I see it. We sleep late. Wake up naked. Christmas morning sex.” He shot me a naughty grin.

We.“Of course. And after Christmas morning sex?”

“Christmas morning coffee, brunch—you cook—and presents.”

“No kids but still presents?”

He looked horrified. “Of coursethere are presents. What kind of Grinch are you? Kids aren’t the only ones who deserve gifts. And I’ll have you know, I could give a master class on gift giving.”

“Sex. Brunch. Presents. Got it.”

“Then we’d head to your parents’ or to my uncles’ place for a big Christmas dinner. Lots of wine. More gifts. Maybe some games. Or maybe if our families get along, we host. We’ve got the room. You’re a hell of a cook, and I could probably be trained as a sous chef,” he mused.

We meantme. Jake was talking about Christmas withme. Marley Jean Cicero, eternal screw-up.

And for one shiny, holiday-scented second, I could see it. Homer in his elf hat. Jake pouring me a glass of wine. My parents laughing with his uncles. My throat felt a little tight, so I cleared it.

“What if you end up with a woman who wants a family?” I asked suddenly. The need for reality, a reminder that all of this was temporary, rose fiercely.

He was quiet for a long beat, and then he squeezed my knee. “I’m with you, Mars. So that’s not a problem.”

65

Marley

Another lifetime ago. The Homecoming Incident.

Ispent every waking minute before Homecoming plotting my revenge. In general, I was an easy-going kinda gal. I had a high tolerance for stupidity. I was patient for my real life to begin after the torturous high school years.

But Amie Jo had pushed me too far. I was done being a silent victim. And it was time for her to pay.

I kept Vicky out of it. Not only did I want to save her from any collusion accusations, I also wanted full credit for this one.

Homecoming was the obvious choice. Of course she was on the court. She was a shoo-in for Queen. Or at least, she would have been.

Step One was already complete. Instead of the Homecoming 1998 banner hung from the back of Amie Jo’s borrowed convertible, I’d swapped it out with a cheery sign that said, “I gave hand jobs to half the boys soccer team.”

The best part? She made it half a mile through the parade before someone took pity on her and ripped the sign from the car. The other best part? Amie Jo’s supposed BFF, Shonda, was also on the court and in the convertible behind her and never said a word.

That was just an appetizer. The main course was arriving at any moment now.

I was ready, standing on the sidelines at halftime. The photographer to Vicky’s school newspaper reporter. I wasn’t going to miss a second of this.

And then it began.

The marching band lined up on the far end of the field for their halftime show to present the Homecoming Court. There was a tension in the air that only I could feel. Things were about to go off the rails.

The color guard marched forward, a rolled-up paper banner clutched in junior Gwen’s hands. I hadn’t even had to bribe her. Amie Jo called Gwen’s little sister “Fatty Too Ugly” in gym class last week. Gwen found her sister crying and doing endless sit-ups in her bedroom.

I trained the school’s camera on them and held my breath. This was for all of us.

“Are you getting this?” Vicky asked, chomping on her gum.

“Oh, yeah,” I said.