A Little Christmas Cheer

by Roberts, Laylah

  Ooh, yum.

  “Then Mr. Spain rang and said I wasn’t getting my hands on his wife’s tatas, and it took me ten minutes of yelling to explain we were talking about food and not her boobs. Jesus.”

  She had to smile at the thought of him trying to explain to an extremely deaf Mr. Spain that he wasn’t interested in his wife’s boobs.

  Priceless.

  Finally, the bottle was empty and he sat her up straight, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “You were out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow. I think while we’re here, naps are gonna be a daily thing.”

  Oh great. Because she knew that when he said ‘I think’ he actually meant it was gonna happen.

  “Daddy, I don’t need naps. I is a big girl.”

  “You’re just a little thing and you’re exhausted. It’s up to Daddy to keep you safe and healthy. So you’ll be having naps. No arguments. You’re gonna be eating better too. Come on, you can go potty while I go get your bottle of water and make the hot chocolate.”

  “Do we have any hot chocolate?”

  “I got some groceries delivered.”

  “But no one delivers here.”

  “They do when you give them a big enough tip,” he countered, helping her out of bed.

  “Wait, I need to get dressed.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “But—”

  “You’re not doing anything more strenuous than lifting a cup of hot chocolate and you look cute as fuck in that onesie. Now, go potty then into the living room. Got a surprise for you.”

  A surprise? Ooh, she wondered what it was.

  After peeing, she walked into the living room and saw that he’d pulled all the cushions off the sofa and armchairs and made a nest on the floor, complete with blankets. Chompers was already there, snuggled in under a blanket.

  “What do you think?” Spike asked, coming up behind her, two mugs of hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles on top in his hand.

  “It looks great, Daddy. So snuggly and comfy. Here let me help you.”

  “Uh-uh, little girls don’t walk around with hot drinks. Go sit your butt down with Chompers.”

  Once she was sitting, he took a sip from one mug. “Not too hot.” He handed it to her just as something dinged from the kitchen.

  She still couldn’t believe he did things like that, checking that her drink wasn’t too hot. Sometimes she wanted to pinch herself to make sure this was all real.

  “That’s the popcorn. Choose a movie. And don’t steal my whipped cream,” he warned as he set his own mug on the floor.

  He knew her too well.

  She grabbed the remote and started to surf.

  * * *

  Spike returned to the room with a bowl of popcorn. The first thing he did was check his hot chocolate. Just as he’d suspected. The whipped cream on the top had been decimated. He’d recently learned of her obsession with whipped cream. She couldn’t get enough of it and like a little thief, stole it every chance she got.

  Little brat liked to squirt the stuff directly from the can into her mouth.

  “Baby doll, what did I tell you about stealing my cream?” he asked sternly.

  She turned and he saw the cream around her mouth along with a dot on the tip of her nose. Aww, damn it. He was supposed to be telling her off, not notice ng how damn adorable she was.

  “It wasn’t me, Daddy!”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That so? Then who was it?”

  “It was Chompers. See!” She held up the dinosaur and sure enough, there was cream all around his mouth as well.

  “Millie! Did you stick your dinosaur’s face in my drink?” he growled.

  Her eyes went wide. “I didn’t do anything, Daddy. Chompers has a mind of his own. I told him not to do it, but he has no self-control. Do you think cream is all right for dinosaurs to eat? What if he’s lactose intolerant?”

  “Then you’re gonna have a big mess to clean up,” he said dryly.

  “Eww, Daddy.”

  “Chompers stole my cream? Is that the story you’re going with?”

  She gave an offended gasp. “Daddy, it’s not a story. It’s the truth.”

  “Then Chompers is a very naughty dinosaur, isn’t he?”

  Worry filled her face. “You won’t punish him, will you, Daddy?”

  “Well, he is your dinosaur, so I guess it’s up to you to punish him.”

  She sighed. “I guess you’re right. Naughty Chompers for stealing Daddy’s whipped cream.” She waggled her finger at the dinosaur.

  “That’s all he’s getting? A scolding? He doesn’t seem all that repentant.”

  “He is, Daddy. Truly, truly sorry. I’ll go put some more cream on your drink.”

  “You’ll stay right where you are. I know better than to let you get your hands on the can of whipped cream. Give me Chompers too.”

  She grasped the dinosaur tight. “What? Why?”

  “He needs to go in the wash or he’s gonna be all sticky.”

  “No! Chompers doesn’t like going in the wash.”

  “Millie—”

  “No, Daddy. Chompers is fine. He’s not sticky. See?” She kissed the dinosaur then screwed up her nose. “Oh, Chompers that’s gross.”

  “Give him to me.”

  “No, Chompers doesn’t like the water. He can’t swim. He’s never learned how, plus he’s got these funny little arms. They’re more for decoration.” She wiggled his tiny arms. “He can’t even use them to feed himself.”

  “Chompers will be fine. He doesn’t need to swim. I’ll just give his face a wipe, okay?”

  She gave him a suspicious look. “All right, Daddy. But you promise no whirlpool of death.”

  “By whirlpool of death, you mean the washing machine?”

  “Exactly.”

  14

  Millie and Spike

  16th December

  “I don’t know if I can do it,” she said as Spike pulled up outside the graveyard. He parked the truck and they sat there staring out at the wrought iron gates that led to the cemetery.

  She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was. Not just physically. But the emotional toll was huge. Something as simple as a nap, some Little time, and movies while snuggled up to her big, buff biker Daddy had done wonders for her yesterday.

  But that good work might all become unraveled over the next hour.

  She hadn’t been here since she’d buried her sister. This first time back felt the most significant.

  “We can come back another day.”

  She didn’t like the idea of that either.

  “But I think it’s best to do it now,” Spike added. “We’re here. You’re gonna feel just as bad tomorrow. Maybe worse. Do it now.”

  “Like ripping off a band-aid, right?”

  “Right.” He climbed out and came around to lift her down. Taking hold of her hand, he led her into the graveyard.

  “Maybe I should have brought Chompers. Although he doesn’t like the cold. And he’s still chilled from his bath last night.” She sent him an accusing look. He’d ended up dipping Chompers in the laundry tub. Chompers had not been impressed. “He didn’t smell good after. Who knew wet dinosaur would smell so bad. Poor Chompers. He won’t be doing that again.” She knew the verbal diarrhea stemmed from her nervousness.

  “It will be okay, baby. I’m not leaving you. I’m right here.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “You’ll never find out.”

  Thank God for that.

  “They’re over this way.” She led him towards the site where her grandparents and sister were buried. The ground was slightly soggy and muddy so they had to move slowly so she didn’t slip.

  “Here it is.” The headstones were simple. She hadn’t been able to afford anything elaborate. Thankfully, her grandparents’ life insurance had covered the funeral costs. For Daria’s funeral, she’d had the money she’d won. But she’d stuck with a simple headst
one.

  She stood still, reading the inscriptions, even though she knew them by heart. Tears dripped down her cheeks. Spike slid his arm around her waist, holding her tight.

  “She was so young,” she whispered. “How could he do that? She was a baby.”

  “I know, baby doll. I know. He was a sick, twisted bastard.”

  “I’m glad he’s dead. He doesn’t deserve to live after everything he did to her. To other women. But there’s a part of me that wishes he was suffering you know?”

  “He is. If there’s any justice, he’s suffering for eternity.”

  She nodded. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a 100-Grand bar. “These were Deedee’s favorite.” She set the bar down on the top of her headstone. “Enjoy, little sis. Miss you. I wish I could have done more to protect you. I’m sorry. I love you.”

  “Hey.” Spike gently grasped hold of her chin, tilting her face up so he was staring down at her. “I don’t want to hear that, understand? You did everything you could. You didn’t know she was going to run away or that that asshole, Frankie, would get his claws into her. Or sell her to the senator. Okay? It’s not your fault.”

  “I know. It’s just hard not to feel like I should have done more. You know? If I’d just been able to find her. If I’d come home earlier that night . . . “

  “Isn’t Archer supposed to be helping you with this?” he asked with a frown.

  “Yes. He is.”

  “You sure? Because if he’s no good we can find someone else.”

  “No, I like Archer. But these things take time.”

  Spike grunted. He still didn’t look happy. Whoops. She hoped he didn’t get on the phone and give Archer a talking to. She could imagine how that conversation would go.

  A cold breeze worked its way through the cemetery, making her shiver despite the layers of clothes she had on.

  “Come on. You’re cold.”

  He helped her walk back to the truck. She glanced around and up, giving a delighted sigh as a snowflake fell to the ground.

  “Ooh, it’s snowing.”

  “Yep.”

  “Deedee loved the snow.”

  “Then that’s a sign, isn’t it? She’s watching over you.”

  Maybe she was.

  * * *

  When they arrived back at her grandparents’ place, she was shocked to find it filled with her friends. Delicious smells drifted out from the kitchen, making Spike’s tummy grumble.

  She glanced up at him with a grin. To her surprise, he looked slightly chagrined, placing his hand over his stomach.

  Poor guy was obviously starving.

  “There you both are,” Reverend Pat said, bustling out of the fancy living room. “You will never believe what Andry just did.”

  “I did no mean to spill the wine,” a deep, Russian-accented voice boomed. “It was your fault. I spilled when you told the joke about the farmer’s wife and the pig.”

  “Reverend Pat!” Millie gave the Reverend a horrified look. Although she was grinning on the inside.

  “It was not a joke!” Reverend Pat puffed out. “I was telling him about a story I read in the local newspaper.”

  “It was hilarious,” Andry said as he stepped out of the fancy living room, an empty glass in his hand. “Millie, you are back from place of death.”

  “It’s a cemetery,” Reverend Pat said stiffly.

  “Eh, we agree to disagree, yes?”

  “No. We do not.”

  “Millie, Spike, I have the wine that has been mulled for you. I do not know what this means, but it tastes delicious.”

  “And it has just been spilled all over Edna’s prized sofa. Hopefully the plastic wrap has protected it well. Don’t worry, Millie. I’ll go find something to clean it up. It’s not for you to worry about,” Reverend Pat consoled her.

  She gave him a surprised look. That wasn’t like Reverend Pat.

  “Yes, Millie. Do not worry. We are here to help you.” Andry whacked her on the back. She stumbled forward.

  “Watch what you’re doing,” Spike snapped at him, grasping hold of her. “You all right, baby doll?”

  “I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting that.”

  “What’s going on? What did you do, you big buffoon,” Mrs. Spain said, bustling out of the kitchen with a rag. “Reverend Pat said you’re spilling mulled wine everywhere. “We’re meant to be helping Millie, not making more of a mess.”

  “It’s okay, it was an accident.” She patted Andry’s arm, giving Spike a look. He was still glaring at Andry in warning.

  Mrs. Spain was muttering as she walked past, moving into the fancy living room.

  Reverend Pat and Mr. Spain walked out into the hallway. It was starting to get crowded in here.

  “Where’s my wife?” Mr. Spain yelled.

  “I’m in here,” Mrs. Spain called out.

  “What? Where?”

  “She’s in there,” Millie said loudly, pointing the way. She decided she best go check out the damage and walked into the room, the others following.

  Mrs. Spain was down on the floor, cleaning up the spilled wine.

  “What are you doing?” Mr. Spain asked.

  “The big buffoon spilled mulled wine.”

  “You’re having a good time?” Mr. Spain shrugged, looking confused then he turned to Spike and shook a finger in his face. “Don’t you be looking at my woman’s tatas. I see you staring at them. She’s mine.”

  He puffed out his chest.

  Millie wrapped her arm around Spike’s, who was staring down at the smaller man in shock.

  “I’m sure he wasn’t, Mr. Spain,” Millie consoled the older man.

  Mumbling, Mr. Spain left the room.

  “I get you some wine, Millie. It will make it all better,” Andry told her, following Mr. Spain out.

  Make all what better?

  “Idiots, all of them,” Mrs. Spain muttered.

  Spike leaned down and helped her up. She patted his arm in thanks. “I’ve made some dinner for you both. You should have told us you were finding it hard to go through Edna’s stuff. We would have come helped earlier.”

  “Thank you,” Millie whispered. “I guess I thought I should do it myself.”

  “You’re not meant to do everything alone, Millie,” Reverend Pat told her. “That’s what friends are for. To help you when you need it. Support you when you’re struggling. Make you smile when you’re feeling sad.”

  She sniffled. “Thanks, Reverend Pat.”

  “Edna would want us to help you, dear,” Mrs. Spain told her.

  “Thank you. To both of you.”

  “Now, my advice would be stay away from Andry’s mulled wine. It’s terrible. He has no idea what he’s doing. And dear,” she turned to Spike, “if you want to admire my tatas, just do it when my husband isn’t around.”

  Millie bit her lip to hold in her giggles as Mrs. Spain walked past, with an exaggerated swing of her hips.

  Too. Funny.

  15

  Millie and Spike

  19th December

  “Well, I guess that’s everything,” Mille said, looking at the big truck which was packed up with the things they were taking back home with them.

  Spike just grunted and set the last box in the back seat. She honestly hadn’t thought there would be this much stuff she’d want to bring home with her. But as she’d started going through all of her grandma’s things, she’d realized how much sentimental attachment she had to some items.

  All the furniture would stay for the new tenants who were moving in after Christmas.

  She sighed. Time to let it all go.

  Spike came up behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She leaned back against him, stealing his strength.

  “Didn’t think it would be this hard to say goodbye. It’s not like I want to stay here. I want to be with you, in our home. It’s just that there are a lot of memories here. I’m being silly. It’s not like I’m selling the house. I still own it.”


  “If they’re your feelings, they’re not silly,” he told her gruffly. He turned her to face him, gently grasping hold of her chin. “You can feel however you want. No excuses needed.”

  She leaned her forehead against his chest and he just held her until she drew away to smile up at him. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  He snorted. “Lift too many heavy things, give yourself a migraine, from the stress and constantly get in trouble.”

  “Hey! I would not.” She took a moment to think about that. “Okay, so yes I would. And I’m so thankful you’re here with me, Spike. My grandma would have loved you.”

  “I’m sure I would have loved her too.”

  “Granddad, on the other hand, he’d likely have shot you on sight and fed you to the pigs.” She grinned up at him.

  This might have been one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do, but with Spike with her then she knew she could do anything.

  Spike just snorted. Then he ran his finger down her cheek. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “You have? Another surprise? You’re just full of them lately.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” he warned. “But I booked us a night in a fancy hotel in Omaha.”

  She squealed. “You did?”

  “Yep.”

  She threw herself into his arms, not paying attention to his grumbling about being careful.

  This was going to be perfect.

  * * *

  Millie stared at the lights with wonder. They were magical. And there was so much to see that she didn’t know where to look first.

  She tugged at Spike’s hand. “Ooh. This is so pretty.” They strolled along the street, where lights filled the trees. Ahead of them, a brass band played Jingle Bells.

  “Can we get some hot chocolate, please, Daddy?” she asked. There was so much noise that nobody would be able to overhear her.

  “Okay, baby doll,” he replied.

  She could tell he didn’t like being in the crowds. He drew her close with one arm tight around her and growled at anyone who got near her. One poor man who’d bumped into her earlier had nearly peed himself when Spike snarled at him.