Hello once again, readers!
Is it Tuesday again, already? Only nine more days until Christmas! Nine more days until my kids can finally see what Santa brought them, and I can finally sit back and relax.
Keeping surprises is a hard thing for me. I suck at it actually. I get so excited and anxious for the other person to know what I have in store for them, that I usually end up making them open presents early or talk them into hearing the surprise before it has a chance to happen.
I know. It’s a horrible habit.
But I am getting better at it. I haven’t given the kids any of their presents to open yet. Mostly because I can’t, because Santa brings them. I haven’t even told my very best friend Sonya Loveday what I got her. And that’s a feat.
(I did try to though.)
But I digress.
It’s another Teaser Tuesday, so here’s another snippet from Everlost (which is coming along quite nicely, I might add).
“You’re awake,” he says, blinking sluggishly, looking at Jaxen.
“It appears that way,” Jaxen shoots back, sitting next to me so he can slide his boots on.
“And you’re still an ass too, I see,” Weldon says as he drags his way across the room. He plops down onto the armchair by the window, leaning the hand with the glass over the edge of the arm. “A small ‘Weldon, my hero, thank you for saving my ass’ would be nice.”
Jaxen looks at him flatly. Stands. Slides a flux through the leather binding. “Thank you,” he says dryly.
Weldon lazily lifts a lone brow, his lip twitching at the corner, trying to hide a smile.
“And you’re my hero,” Jaxen adds, smiling now.
The left side of Weldon’s mouth lifts up into a weak attempt at a smirk, and then disappears. He pinches his forehead between his fingers and rubs, shaking his head. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
“Too old?” I ask, looking at his clean-shaven, smooth-as-a-baby face.
Weldon drops his hand and looks up at me as if I’m insulting him. “Yes. I’ll be 46 this year, and you’ve got me running around like a damn teenager. My bones are brittle. My age is catching up to me.” He rubs at his lower back, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Well, you don’t look 46,” I say. “And I don’t think your age is catching up to you either.”
He stops rubbing his back and looks over at his empty cup with a pout. “You’re right. I was just playing the sympathy card. Fetch me a drink?”
I blink. “Me?”
“No, the Faye behind you. Yes you,” he says, shoving the glass at me. “I need to have a little chit-chat with our boyfriend.”
And scene! Please, bear with me. This is all unedited (first draft stuff).
Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Love me some Weldon.
If I don’t write again, have a great Christmas!