I stopped with my little brush dipped in green paint suspended over the cardstock.

“Uh . . . no,” I answered.

“I’ll get ’em,” he declared. “White or colored?”

Oh boy.

“Tobe—”

“I say colored. That cute-as-fuck farmhouse will glitter into the fairy realm if you put perfect white lights on it. Colored with the fat bulbs. Retro and ugly.”

You would not think this, but there was a lot there.

One, Izzy had left all her furniture, but she’d had a huge yard sale, clearing out most of the abundance of the shabby-chic stuff she’d decorated her house with so Brooks and I did not have to live amongst swirly, curlicue cutesy, and so she could buy some insanely expensive wineglasses she had her eye on (as well as save up for her wedding) when she’d moved out.

I was not a shabby-chic girl.

I was twenty-nine years old and I did not know what kind of girl I was seeing as I’d never had the opportunity to decorate. I’d been too busy having fun, living life, fucking up, and falling in love with a cheating loser to get a lock on my preferred home décor.

Two, if I had a choice, I’d put fat, colored, retro bulbs on my house for Christmas cheer because they were festive and ugly. I’d love the hell out of them and Brooks would get a kick out of them.

But knowing Toby was right there with me felt great, which meant it sucked.

And three, there was no way in hell I was going to turn on Christmas lights outside that I couldn’t see except driving up after work, because I simply couldn’t afford it.

The tree, I’d do, in the times Brooks and I were hanging in the family room, plus I already had the fake, pre-lit tree, ornaments and some swags I’d scored at that estate sale.

Unnecessary outdoor decorations, no.

“I’ll get enough to line the edge of roof and come early to do it so when everyone shows on Sunday, they’ll get a load of it. Iz might freak at the retro, but that’ll be part of the fun,” he went on.

“Toby, you really don’t need to do that,” I told him.

“I know. You really don’t need to do anything when it comes to Christmas. But you do because it’s Christmas.”

Really.

Enough.

I could not handle Toby being a holiday person.

Because if I’d ever had the luxury to be a holiday person, I’d totally do that shit up.

Retro and ugly.

“Tobe—”

“I’ll show around noon or one. If you’re at work or something, I’ll just get on with it. You gonna be at work?”

“No, I’m off that day. But Toby—”

“Cool. See you then.”

“Wait!” I cried since it sounded like he was going to ring off.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s sweet you offered, but I don’t want any lights.”

He didn’t say anything for a bit, before he said, “Addie, it’s not a big deal. It’s a few strings of lights, a ladder and a staple gun. It’ll probably take an hour.”

“Yeah, okay, but you know, you don’t have to go through that trouble,” I replied.

“Nothing’s trouble at Christmas.”

Okay.

Damn.

He was a holiday person.

“Did you sweep my steps today?”

“No. Johnny did that. It’s snowing again tonight. You need me to come over and do that tomorrow morning?”

God.

The Gamble Men.

“No. That’s okay. I just, you know . . . everyone helps out a lot and—”

“Adeline, Christmas lights are not a big deal.”

“Tobias, I really can’t afford them,” I admitted.

“You don’t have to afford them. I’m buying them.”

“I mean lighting them.”

Silence.

No, actually, what I was hearing was the definition of the total absence of sound.

“And that’s not really a big deal,” I said hurriedly into the sound void. “It’s just how it is, you know, for a single mom. And it isn’t a biggie. By the time Brooks is old enough to appreciate that kind of thing, life will be steadier.”

“And what about this time when you’re old enough to appreciate it?” he asked.

It was my turn to say nothing.

“You need some money?” he queried.

God.

Just humiliating.

“No, we’re good,” I lied.

He knew I was lying.

And called me on it.

“You’re not good if you don’t got an extra fifty bucks to light some Christmas lights for a couple of months.”

“Next year,” I told him.

“I’ll give you fifty bucks so you can have some lights, Addie.”

If I had an extra fifty bucks, I’d buy Brooks more onesies. He was growing out of the ones he had and garage sale season had dried up.

“Really, it isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Addie—”

“Toby, it just isn’t, okay?” I stated firmly.

“That fuck’s not paying child support,” he declared, low and irate.

Well, he wasn’t.

But even if he was, I still wouldn’t put Christmas lights outside.

“We don’t need him,” I shared.

“Babe, call your attorney. Have his wages garnished.”

And also owe Johnny for more attorney’s fees.

The schedule we had to pay him off would take me three years as it was.

I’d never have Christmas lights if I kept after Perry.

“That might work, if the guy had wages to garnish,” I replied.

“He’s not working?”

“I don’t know what he’s doing, Tobe. I don’t keep in touch with him. My guess, since we haven’t heard from him in months, is that he’s a memory. And that’s okay. I wanted different, but I’m coming to terms with it because he was a memory when we were living with him. So it’s not a big change.”

“Do you want him in Brooklyn’s life?” he asked but didn’t wait for my response. “Because you need that child support, Adeline, and if you want Brooks to have his dad, then I’ll cover your attorney’s fees and you won’t owe me dick. That’ll be for Brooks. Christmas.”

God.

The Gamble Men.

“It’s only been a few months. How about I just give Perry more time to feel out where he’s at, which gives me time to feel out where I’m at, yeah?”

“Where you’re at is you can’t afford fifty bucks to light your house for Christmas.”

This was true, so I had no response.

“I’m putting the lights up, babe.”

I had a response to that.

“Toby, really, I do not want that.”

“Yes, you do. But even if you didn’t, I don’t give a fuck. I want it for you.”

Whoa.

He sounded mad.

Like, really mad.

I’d never heard him sound really mad.

He also was being bossy.

I’d never heard him be bossy.

It was hot.

Shit.

Toby kept speaking, all angry, bossy and hot.

“So I’m gonna give it to you and I’m gonna pay your electricity bill until February so you can have it and don’t think you can stop that shit. You can’t leave your register at the store, but I can leave the garage whenever I want, grab your mail and pay that fucker, which is what I’m gonna do.”