Three Little Words

“No. One of us would want more, and the other would get hurt. Last time it was you. This time was me.”

“I never meant to hurt you. Then or now.”

“I know.” She sniffed and wiped the corner of her eye. She forced a smile. “Look at me. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry!”

“I didn’t see anything,” I lied gallantly.

“You’re a good guy, Paul. You always were, even if I didn’t see it all the time.”

“Well, thanks, but… no, I wasn’t. I was selfish, clueless, and immature.

Sometimes all three at once.”

“Yeah, you were,” she admitted with a teary laugh. She wiped her eyes again and smiled. “Let’s talk about something happier. Tell me about Christy.

She sounds wonderful.”

I paused to let Gina settle her emotions. “She is,” I said. “She’s an art major, a sculptor. She wants to get an MFA, but she isn’t sure what she wants to do then. She’s from a military family, like me, so…”

We talked and eventually laughed as I told her more about Christy. Then Gina told me she’d been talking to a guy she’d met at the clinic. He was another pre-med student and doing volunteer work to help his med school applications. They hadn’t been on a date yet, but she thought he was working up the nerve to ask her.

“I hope he does,” I said. “He sounds like a nice guy.”

“We’ll see,” Gina said cautiously. She was about to say something else when Elizabeth stuck her head into the kitchen.

“We’re about to open presents,” she said. “Would you care to join us?”

“Depends,” I shot back. “Are there presents for me?”

“No. Father Christmas only brought you a lump of coal. Now get in here!” She turned so quickly that her wine sloshed out of her glass. She dabbed her wrist with a napkin, drained the glass, and went in search of more.

“I guess we’d better go,” I said to Gina.

“Probably. They’ll just come looking for us if we don’t.”

We went to join our families.

“I enjoyed talking to you,” Gina said before we reached the living room.

“Me too. I always have. And I’ll always love you.”

“I know. I’ll always love you too. But… it sounds like you’ll have your

hands full with Christy.”

“I hope so.”

“I hope so too,” she said. “I really mean that. Tell her, okay?”

“I will. And tell Regan what I said.”

“I will.”

I gave her a hug and we held each other for a long time.

“We’d better go,” she said at last. “Life goes on.”

“Life goes on,” I agreed.

I called Christy the next morning before I had to leave for the airport. Her father answered.

“Hello, Harold. Sir,” I said. “It’s Paul.”

“You don’t have to call me sir. Really. I mean it.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” I wasn’t sure he heard the grin in my voice, but I definitely heard the frown in his.

“Don’t say that at all, unless it’s for real.”

“No, sir,” I said, suitably chastised. “I mean, Harold.”

“Better. But if you’re joking with me, you must feel fairly confident about your chances with Birdy.”

“I do. I’ve totally fallen for her.”

He harrumphed. “That’s what she said. Although I’m not sure I approve of this ski trip, especially the sleeping arrangements.”

“She’ll have her own bed,” I said. “And the couch folds out to a bed.”

Both of which were technically true, if misleading.

“She told us. But—”

“Harold,” I interrupted, “do you really want to have this conversation?”

“I want to protect my daughter.”

“I do too. I won’t do anything against her wishes.” Again, true but misleading.

“It’s her wishes I’m worried about.”

“Then you’ll have to take it up with her.”

“I tried,” he grumbled, almost under his breath, “but my wife won’t let me.”

“I envy you,” I said. “And I’m being honest, not patronizing. Anne is a

strong, intelligent woman.”

“She is.”

“And I like Christy even more because she’s like her.”

“Son, you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Oh, I think I do,” I said with a soft laugh. “I like a challenge.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Well, you couldn’t run me off, and Rich couldn’t scare me off, so maybe I’m in it for the long haul.”

He didn’t answer.

“And,” I said, a touch flippantly, “I’m better than the last guy.”

“You can say that again.”

“I’m better than the last guy.”

He sighed. “Let me tell Birdy you’re on the phone. We’ll see you this afternoon.”

“Thanks. I’m looking forward to it.”

“So help me God, I am too.”

Christy came to the phone after a short wait.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me,” I said.

“Hello, Mr. Wonderful.”

“Hello, Miss Fellatio.”

She gasped and covered the receiver. When she spoke again, she cupped her hand around the mouthpiece. “Don’t say that. Someone might hear.”

“Relax,” I chuckled. “But if it’ll make you feel better, I won’t say it again.”

“Please don’t.”

“Unless we’re alone.”

“Right. Then it’s okay.”

I chuckled again. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

“Try harder. Isn’t that what your mother said?”

“Yes, dear.”

She sighed. “I like hearing you say that.”

“Then I’ll have to say it more often.”

“Say the other thing I like.”

“Which one? ‘Pole smoking’ or ‘playing the skin flute’?” I laughed to myself at the muffled sound from the other end of the line. She must’ve pressed the earpiece to her shoulder.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” she whispered when she returned.

“Be nice.”