Holy crap.

He was right.

“How do you know so much?”

“Because I was a kid with my own issues and I wasn’t bullied, but I watched those dicks at work, so I know how they played nasty.”

“Did you put a stop to it?”

He looked down at me.

He put a stop to it.

We both faced forward.

“What were your issues?” I asked as he halted us at an intersection across from the square.

He looked to the light, then to me.

“Nighttime talk. Not we’re-about-to-eat-ourselves-sick-at-the-Matlock-Christmas-Fair talk.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, glancing at the light.

His arm around me squeezed, so I tipped my head to look up at him again.

“I was a second son with an older brother who was perfect. Got all As and Bs. Total gearhead, workin’ side-by-side with Gramps and Dad and Dave at the garage from the minute he could lift a wrench. Captain of the football team, dating the homecoming queen. And all I remember of my mom was a sense she was pretty, anyone wears her perfume and I get a whiff, I immediately think of her and the fact she destroyed my father. We had so many ‘Aunt Whoevers’ growin’ up, I couldn’t even name them all. So that’s just a taste.”

“Oh,” I whispered, giving him a squeeze with the arm I had around him. “Definitely nighttime talk.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, glanced at the light and set us moving again.

I looked to the big town square that was two blocks long, one block wide and was now covered in colorful tents.

“Game plan,” I declared. “We find those chocolate nut clusters that Deanna was talking about and then we can meander.”

“I’m down with that,” Toby agreed.

“I think Deanna and Charlie might be here. Hang tight. I’ll text her and see if she’s located them yet.”

We’d made it to the square, so Toby guided us off the thoroughfare and I reached down to get my phone out of Brooks’s bag. I texted and shoved it into the back pocket of my jeans.

And it was then I realized I was feeling fine.

No.

I was feeling me.

To tell the truth, I’d actually forgotten who me was.

In fact, I didn’t think I was certain I knew who me was.

Until right then.

As crazy as this might sound, this centered around it being a vintage embroidered jacket day.

I wore one over a sage thermal Henley, the buttons at the collar I’d unbuttoned down to hint at cleavage and a thin rock ’n’ roll scarf that had fringed ends that hung to my thighs but was still warm since it was wool and long enough I could wrap it around twice. Also, my black stone-washed jeans, black cowboy boots, and I’d dug out my black oversized beret that made me look like a hippie, gypsy, Stevie Nicks rock ’n’ roll queen.

For his part, Toby was in his usual. Faded jeans. Boots. Long-sleeved vintage Eagles tee. Beat-up leather jacket. And he had on one of those awesome extra-large beanies that drooped at the back and made him look badass and dope.

And Brooklyn was no slouch. Over baby long johns he had baby jeans with some rips in them, a flannel shirt, a baby army jacket, and a beanie a lot like Toby’s that was orange and fit a lot snugger to his skull. On his feet, those yellow-tan baby work boots, and mittens that went with his hat were on his hands. All of this an awesome yard sale score I’d found at the home of one of those Matlock residents Toby was talking about. One who worked in the city.

We fit. We matched. We had it going on.

Feel me?

We so totally had it tight.

All of us.

And I felt just that, when Toby guided us back into the thoroughfare.

We fit.

We matched.

We had it going on.

We did not watch Miracle on 34th Street.

We watched A Nightmare Before Christmas.

We pushed Brooklyn’s stroller together holding on to each other like we practiced that at home.

If Toby saw my dad, he’d punch him in the throat.

If I saw my dad, I’d kick him in the balls.

We were meant to be.

I was feeling this goodness when my ass chimed.

Still moving, I took it out, read the text from Deanna and told Toby, “Northeast corner, two stalls up. She and Charlie are gonna meet us there.”

“Gotcha,” Tobe said, and since we were heading southeast, he flipped us around.

And we nearly ran into Lora.

“Hey! I thought that was you!” she exclaimed.

“Hey back,” I replied on a smile.

She did a funny little jerk, looked to Toby, me, Toby, me, then Toby, Brooklyn and finished on me.

After that, she got a big smile on her face, nodded her head slowly, and said, “Sister, you two finally got it on.”

Toby chuckled.

“Well, uh . . . yeah,” I confirmed.

I semi-disengaged from Toby, this being I took my arm from him and he took his arm from me only to go up under my jacket to hook a finger in a back beltloop.

I flipped a hand toward Toby and did my next to be polite, and for Tobe since I already knew she at least knew him.

“Lora, do you know Toby?”

“Was two years behind you in class, but yeah. Hey. Lora Merriman,” she reminded him.

“Remember you, Lora, how you been?” Toby asked.

“Can’t complain, mostly.” She did an eye sweep of Brooks and me before she said to Toby, “Think you’ve been doin’ better.”

“You’d have that right.”

“Gah! Dodo!” Brooklyn yelled.

Lora bent over, tucking her hands palms together between her knees and saying, “Yo, little dude. Whassup?”

“Mama, kahkah, Dodo, Dada, leepy, sissis,” Brooklyn shared.

“No joke?” Lora asked. “Well, wow. That’s cool.”

“Leepy!” Brooklyn yelled.

“Right on,” Lora said and took one hand from between her knees to put it palm out to Brooklyn to give him a high five.

He went for it, but his little hand slid off the apple of her palm.

She caught it up and smacked them together a couple of times.

Brooks giggled.

“We’re heading for caramel nut clusters,” I told her. “You wanna come?”

She straightened and replied, “Grrrrrl, no. I already hit that tent. I told myself the two pounds I bought were to portion out and wrap up for stocking stuffers, but that whole thing will be in my belly by next Saturday. I’m hightailing it to Grover’s Ice Cream Parlour. Meeting a friend for a quick coffee before we do the Fair. But thanks.”

This kinda sucked. I liked her. It would be cool to hang with her for a while.

I did not share this.

I said, “Okay.”

“Though, we’re heading to Home after we decimate the Fair.” She glanced down at Brooks. “You probably can’t hit it later.”

I shook my head. “No, we have Christmas cookie plans later.”

She gave me a slow smile and lied, “Sucks to be you.”

“Yeah,” I lied back.

She laughed then bid, “You guys hit the chocolate tent. We’ll make plans some other time. Groovy?”

“Totally. Cool to see you,” I replied.

“You too.” To Toby, “Later, Toby.”

“Later, Lora.”