Until the End of the World (Book 3): All the Stars in the Sky (43 page)

“Shit. I had no idea.”

“You know, for someone so observant you can be completely clueless when you want to get your way.” I sink against the side of the building, heart drumming and mouth dry. I don’t want to say it aloud and make it real, but Nelly will never stop pestering me until I do. “So just do it. Say what you want to say. Ask whatever you want to ask.”

Nelly rubs his cheeks and deliberates before his sky blue eyes meet mine. “No.”

“No?”

He puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “You’ll tell me when you want to.”

I’d like to walk because I’m freezing, but I’m frozen in shock. He must have something up his sleeve. “Seriously?”

He takes my arm and wanders back toward the cabins. “Yup. So what shall we do next? The world, or a small fenced-off part of it, is our oyster. We have three hours until sundown at the ridiculously early time of 3:30.”

“Let’s go to the big cabin and see who’s there.”

“Your wish is my command.” After a block, Nelly clears his throat. “So, anything you want to tell me?”

“Can’t think of anything,” I say.

He throws me into a snowdrift and laughs while I splutter obscenities. But, to his credit, he doesn’t ask again.

We have a Christmas tree. Really, it’s the top of a fir tree that’ll be kindling next year, but it’s pretty with the decorations we made during art class at the school.

“Did we get Barn a present?” Bits asks. She lies on the floor next to the dog, fiddling with the earrings Penny and I put in on her birthday, and Peter followed with a French fry and vanilla milkshake party. Making ice cream is easy when your entire world is snow and ice.

“We’ll give him a bone.”

“How about Sparky?”

“Also a bone,” I say.

“Did you get something for Peter?”

“A bone. Everyone gets bones this year.”

She giggles. “He’ll make soup with it. And then he can give us soup for Christmas.”

“Perfect,” I say.

Hank pokes his head out from the loft. “But did you get him something for real?”

“I have something from you guys. It’s a pot. He really can make us soup.”

Bits rolls on her back and looks at me upside down. “A pot? Why on Earth would you get him a
pot
?” I’d like to ask her where she got that tone, but it’s like listening to a recording of me.

“It’s a fancy pot, like hundreds of dollars fancy. It’s turquoise.”

She stands. “Can I see? Hank, come and look.”

I take them into the bedroom and pull it out of the closet. They like it but look unimpressed. “You know how I love art supplies? Well, cooking’s an art, too. The most famous chefs in the world used pots like these. People would travel all over just to try their food.”

“Really?” Bits asks. “Maybe they’ll come here one day just to try Peter’s food. It’s good enough to fight zombies for.”

I kiss her cheek. “Tell him that, he’ll love it.”

It’s true. The food here was decent but boring, especially made in large quantities, but now the restaurant is always full when people know he’s on.

“So he’ll really like this,” Hank says.

“Thanks for getting it.” Bits grins, eyes the same color as the Dutch oven. “Can we wrap it?”

The cabin door opens in the outer room. Bits places the pot on the closet floor and then yanks most of my clothes off the hangers to throw on top. Like I need any help being a slob.

“Hello?” Penny calls.

I follow Bits to the living room. She shows no interest in cleaning up the clothes even though it’s not Peter. Another wonderful habit inspired by me.

“Hey, Mama,” I say. “Anything?”

She sinks to the couch. It was her due date almost a week ago. “Nothing. Nada.”

“It can only be a couple weeks at the most. Glory’s never seen anyone go more than three weeks past.”

Bits wanders back into my bedroom when Hank calls. “Hey, pick up those clothes,” I yell after her. I’m met with a non-committal reply.

“Glory says to try sex,” Penny says. “This is easier said than done, but I’ve told James he’s on tonight. He looked a little frightened.”

I snort and throw a log into the woodstove just as Nelly enters in his usual sweep of wind and snow. “Shoes!” I yell, and he stops to remove them before he launches himself onto the couch next to Penny.

“I bagged us a turkey for Christmas,” Nelly says.

“What?” I ask. “I didn’t think there were wild turkeys in Alaska.”

“I didn’t shoot it, I won it in poker. Peter’s going to cook it in the kitchen the night before.”

We’re having Christmas dinner at the big cabin. Chuck and Rich are invited, along with a few others besides our group. It’s such a large town that everyone couldn’t eat dinner together anyway.

Adam walks in and removes his shoes, unlike his other half. “It’s so warm in here.”

I wedge another piece of wood into the stove. “But the bedroom is still cold, even if it’s ninety degrees out here.”

“Why don’t you snuggle with Peter?” Nelly asks. “That’ll warm you.”

“Would you stop?” I ask, and head for the kitchen without looking up because I know they’re all staring and my face is a dead giveaway. I’m most afraid of Penny thinking I’m usurping Ana, or that I don’t miss her.

Adam sighs. “Nel, shut—” He breaks off when Peter walks in.

“Hey, are we having a party?” Peter asks.

Adam stands and drags Nelly to the door. “We were just leaving.”

They say their goodbyes, and Peter moves to where I’m wrapping up what’s left of dinner, my cheeks finally cool. “Dinner was yummy, thanks,” I say.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave the house in this, and then you’d eat something crappy.”

A layer of ice swooped in this morning, and with my walking skills being what they are at times, I came home after breakfast shift and art class. “It’s a good thing. We were going to eat your cookies.”

His mouth drops. “You wouldn’t.”

Peter may love Bits more than life itself, but he doesn’t share his Oreos. I refused when he offered me some because I never would’ve enjoyed the corn syrup as much as he does. I like to tease him, though. As long as I keep things silly, I don’t worry that he’ll see how I feel. I stand on my tiptoes and pretend to reach for their hiding place in an upper cabinet.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he says, and spins me around by my belt.

I lean against the counter and smile up at him. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

It comes out low and flirty instead of silly, and his eyes darken in response. His hand is still on my waist, its warmth radiating through my shirt to my skin. I think he wants to kiss me, and I’m pretty sure I’m failing at hiding how much I want him to. His gaze lowers when I moisten my lips, his fingers digging into my waist.

“Well, I’ve got a date,” Penny says.

We jump and turn to find Penny standing, fingers on her glasses. I’d forgotten she was here, and so must have Peter, because his hand drops like a stone and he takes a step back. My throat tightens when I think about how it must look that I sleep in the same bed and spend most of my time with her dead sister’s boyfriend. How obvious my desire must have been to the both of them just now. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t done anything to feel guilty about; wanting it makes me guilty enough. Even if Ana did say she’d want Peter to move on, even if I truly think she’d be glad.

Penny eases her feet into her soft boots and heads to the door. Just before leaving, she smiles our way, although it’s tinged with sorrow. It doesn’t exactly give me the go-ahead, but maybe it says she wouldn’t hate me forever. I can’t tell if Peter’s noticed since he looks everywhere but at me.

The kids come from the bedroom. Bits’s eyes widen when she sees Peter, and she holds her arms straight by her sides. Peter clears his throat. “Everything all right, baby girl?”

“Yes,” she says. “We were in your room for a reason.”

“Okay. Do you want to tell me the reason?”

Hank shakes his head at Bits, who will blurt out everything as if under torture with almost no prodding. “No. It’s a pot for you,” she says, and slaps her hand to her mouth.

“You’re the
worst
,” Hank says with a groan. “I should’ve wished for you to be able to keep secrets.”

I burst into laughter while Peter bites back a smile. He meets my eyes and the awkward moment passes. Peter’s still my best friend, and I don’t want to lose that. If he doesn’t feel the same, I’ll have to find a way to let this go.

I lose at Monopoly for the thousandth time, even using Hank’s secret system, after which we head to bed. I’m almost asleep when Peter’s hand brushes my hair. I don’t know if it means we’re back to normal or if we’re heading somewhere new, but either way, he’s with me.

Barn and Sparky devour their bones while Bits and Hank tear through their presents. Hank holds up the X-Men comics and raises his eyebrows at Bits. When he gets to his stocking, he sits quietly with the small portrait I made of his family in his lap. I’m never sure if it’s a good idea to make a portrait for someone who hasn’t asked, but so far it’s always been appreciated.

I sit on the floor behind him. “I thought you might want them here today. I was going to wait, but…”

Hank nods and moves into my lap. It won’t fit in a pocket like Bits’s locket, but it’s small enough to tuck in a bag if we have to leave.

“Sometimes Christmas can be hard,” I say. “It’s when we miss people the most.”

“I’m excited it’s Christmas, though.” His voice cracks. It’s been doing that occasionally, but this isn’t puberty.

I twist one of his dreads. “It’s normal to be a whole lot sad and be happy at the same time. And it’s normal to feel guilty about being happy.”

“It is?”

“Absolutely. But your dad would want you to be happy. It wouldn’t hurt his feelings. I know that for a fact.”

“Okay.” He traces Henry’s and Dottie’s faces with his finger and stops on Corrine’s purple shirt. “How did you know Corrie liked purple?”

“She kept wishing she’d brought her favorite purple shirt to the campground,” I say. “She told me all about it, so I made it up from her description.”

“It looked just like this. She wouldn’t shut up about it. I forgot about that.”

He rests his head on my collarbone and doesn’t move for a long while. Finally, he goes up to the loft and comes down empty-handed. “I put it by my bed. It’s near my bag in case we have to go.”

“Good idea,” I say. “But I don’t think we’ll have to go anytime soon, and I can always make another.” He’s slow to smile, but when he does like he is now, it lights up his face.

“Open yours, Peter!” Bits says. Peter winces when she drops the heavy pot in his lap.

“Whatever could this be?” He unwraps the fabric we’ve wrapped it in and looks my way. “You remembered the color. I love it, thank you.” He hugs the kids and admires his pot some more, then passes me a package. “Here.”

It’s a large canning jar full of something thick and brown. “What is it?”

“Poop. We made you a jar of poop,” Peter says, which sends the kids into hysterics.

I dip in a finger and groan in pleasure at the buttery caramel but screw the cap closed before I eat it all. “That’s good poop. Thank you.”

“I told you I’d make you caramel sauce one day.”

And I told you I’d love you forever if you did
, I don’t say back. I’m sure he doesn’t remember. “Wait!” I say as he hands me a jewelry box. “You have to open your other two.”

He unwraps the espresso maker and then the box with the espresso beans I hoarded, of which there are more at Nelly’s. I hold up the caramel sauce and bounce. “I see a caramel macchiato in my future!”

“Hey, is this present for me or for you?” Peter turns the espresso machine over in his hands and smiles. “You were right when you said to keep it. Thank you.” I’d hoped he would remember our conversation in the RV. He points to the box in my hand. “It’s just a silly present. I found it in Anchorage.”

Under the lid is a silver half of a heart on a bed of cotton. It says
Best
and has a few tiny cut-out stars. The edge where the other half of the heart would be is curved, waiting for its mate.

“It has stars, so I couldn’t resist.” Peter digs in his jeans and pulls out the half that says
Friends
. “I keep it in my pocket.”

I smile in thanks, but my throat closes so that I can’t say a word.

“I want one for me and Hank,” Bits says.

“Only if I can keep it in my pocket,” Hank says. “You must be crazy if you think I’m wearing a heart necklace.”

Peter laughs at the exchange. I head to the bedroom before anyone sees my tears, but Peter is there a minute later. “Shit, I’m sorry. I thought it would be funny.”

“It’s not funny.” I touch his arm when his face tightens. “It means more than you know.”

It’s as much as I can say without treading into dangerous waters. My heart is full. It’s grown back like that lizard’s tail, but it’s not a shoddy facsimile. It’s different for sure, but it’s better.

“I heard what you said to Hank. I know you’re right, but it’s hard to do.” He looks as if he wants to say more, but he doesn’t.

“It is,” I whisper. It’s a mixture of betrayal of the person who’s gone and the fear that you’ll lose the next person, too. I know it well—I still have the fear, if not the betrayal. “Thank you. Really. Thank you. Sorry I’m such a nincompoop.”

“You’re not a nincompoop.” He takes my chin and looks into my eyes. “You’re a weirdo.”

I’m so surprised that I laugh. I’m even more surprised when he kisses me softly on the lips, then smiles and walks out.

***

We’re all full to bursting. The turkey has been reduced to bones and all the dishes people brought to Christmas dinner have been demolished.

Penny slouches in a chair, looking as if she might burst for real. I sit at her feet and rub her knee. “So, maybe no Christmas baby, huh?”

“I’m going to be pregnant forever. She’ll grow up and go to college without ever being born.”

“I’m calling New Year’s,” James says.

Penny’s eyes well up. “Don’t say that. We’ll miss the party.”

We’ve heard all about the New Year’s party of last year, with its alcohol, music and bonfires. The entire world is frozen and there’s no need for quiet. Apparently, it’s a bit like an office Christmas party, and the kids sleep in the upstairs of the brewery while it rages all night long.