I smile up at Winston. “You sure it won’t look funny having a bunch of different holiday wreaths up on the wall? It might look silly with the green St. Patrick’s Day one hanging out next to my red, white, and blue 4th of July wreath, along with my bright-ass red Santa Claus one.”
His eyes twinkle down at me, a softness taking over his face like it always does when he looks at me, making me feel all gooey inside. “It’ll be perfectly fine. No one will care nothing matches. They’ll be too blown away by how awesome each one is, and then their heads will explode with all the possibilities of what they’d choose for their own custom wreath. And then when they can’t decide on just one, you’ll make bank creating them out the wazoo.”
“Shit, it might be smart to come up with a business plan before you set them all up, girl. Just let me know if you want help. When Hannah put it out there that she’d take commissioned pieces, she got super overwhelmed until she let me put some rules in place for her. Things like down payments so you don’t get fucked over. Agreements on how long you’ll hold a piece until they pick it up. Things like that,” she tells me, and I’m already nodding.
“I’d appreciate that. I was great at organizing whenever it was just keeping up with my kids’ schedules, but now that I’m having to coordinate and manage me and my sister’s work schedules along with them, things are getting a little squirrely. I’ll take all the help I can get.”
She grins with a nod. “Deal. I’ll come up with a little something and email it to you.”
“Thanks, Steph,” I tell her, and she waves at us before she heads for the door. I turn to Winston, feeling suddenly shy. “And thank you, boss, for letting me display my wreaths. I feel kind of dumb I never thought about selling them before.”
His knuckle touches beneath my chin, and I can’t stop the shudder that works its way through my entire body as he lifts my head to look into his eyes. He drops his hand, side-eyeing the room, probably to make sure no one saw him touching his employee like that. But then his gaze meets mine once more.
“You are the farthest thing you can get from dumb, naekkeo. You are so smart, and creative, and talented that you take my breath away. I don’t know what you’ve been through that you don’t realize how fucking brilliant you are, but I’m going to keep telling you until you believe it,” he says low so only I can hear.
And all I can do is nod.
Another month later
“But don’t you find it strange that he’s still living with his parents, sis?” Mia asks, looking over her shoulder to make sure the girls are still in their spots on the living room couch, sprawled with her dogs, Mercury and Retro, and watching Frozen 2 for the eight hundredth time. “I mean, it’s been five months.”
“If he’s working as much as he always has, then he’s only at his parents’ for dinner and to sleep. He comes and gets the girls to hang out with them during the day on the weekends, which gives you and me the opportunity to work some great shifts, and then I have the peace of mind that they’re home to sleep in their beds each night, since there’s not enough room for all three of them to stay the night with their dad. I’m not going to question him about it, when things are going pretty okay for us right now,” I tell her.
She eyes me, looking as if she’s choosing her words carefully. “You’re stuck, Cece. You’re in a holding pattern and aren’t allowing yourself to move forward in either direction, because you’re scared to make waves. You can’t live like this forever, sis. Has there even been any talk about… I don’t know, marriage counseling… divorce?”
“No. Neither.” I shake my head. I try to think about my relationship with Mike as little as possible, choosing to focus all my efforts on the girls, work, school, and filling the extra time I might have by fulfilling wreath orders. Steph and Winston weren’t wrong. I get at least four orders a week and am loving it. I can only imagine what it’s going to be like when the holidays come around.
“Do you even know what you want, sis? Have you allowed yourself to at least decide what you want to happen in the future?” she asks gently.
I look down into my lap, twisting my paper towel in my hands anxiously before looking up at her. “Honestly, I have no idea. A part of me wants us to fix everything just so I can stop struggling, so things can go back to the way they were and I can pay you back for everything you’ve lost.”