The Christmas Wedding - James Patterson [29]
At that exact moment a truck the size of a house jackknifed right in front of Popcorn.
Seth turned the steering wheel away from the monster truck, and then he found himself flipped around and facing oncoming traffic and dozens of headlights. The skid seemed endless and very fast. He did everything a driver wasn’t supposed to do. He slammed on the brakes. He turned in the opposite direction of the skid.
Andie was frozen with fear. And, of course, all she could think was We’re going to die exactly like my parents did. Exactly.
Then it happened. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. Miraculously.
Andie and Seth and This Goddamn Piece of Shit were sitting safely on the snowy shoulder of the Mass. Pike.
Shaking, they reached for each other. They were safe. They held each other, hugged for a long time.
Popcorn, on the other hand, seemed none the worse for the wear and terror. As if to signal the car’s good health, the speakers suddenly began blaring a song by the Black Eyed Peas.
“Wow. A fatal accident sure would have hurt the good vibe at your mom’s wedding,” Andie said quietly.
“Well, I certainly hope so,” said Seth. “Near fatal. Not a problem.” Then they both laughed, nervously, but there was laughter.
Seth eased the car very cautiously back onto the Mass. Pike.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Andie said.
“What’s that?” he said.
“Let’s turn off the iPod and sing Christmas carols, like ‘Jingle Bells’ or ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.’”
“Good idea,” Seth said. “I just wish I knew which Santa Claus my mommy is going to be kissing.”
And so Seth and Andie sang Christmas songs.
And then they did something even more unexpected but definitely in the spirit of the season.
Now they had a very cool surprise of their own.
Chapter 34
CLAIRE AND HANK
TWO NIGHTS EARLIER, Claire had done the hardest, most awful thing she’d ever had to do: She told Hank to get out of the house. She shook as she said it, but she said it. And Hank got out. He saw the tears in Claire’s eyes, but he also saw the anger and the resolve, and maybe even the hurt he’d caused.
“She’ll get over it, Dad. She always does,” Gus said as he helped Hank put a duffel bag and a six-pack of Heineken in the car.
“Yeah,” Hank said. “I’ll sweet-talk my way back before Christmas. You stand strong, now. You’re the man while I’m gone.”
“I know that, Dad. I’m the man.”
Then Hank made a foolish error: He went back inside the house to try to kiss Claire. She turned away and walked quickly out of the kitchen.
But she did hear him shout, “Just remember, you’re the bitch who threw me out of here. You’re the bitch who ruined our family’s Christmas.”
The twins, Toby and Gabrielle, were frightened by Hank’s leaving. Gus seemed amused. And Claire hadn’t yet told anyone else—not even Gaby—about it.
That night, when she lay alone and upset in bed, she wondered if she were the bitch who had ruined Christmas. Couldn’t she have waited until the new year? Or given Hank another chance? Should she have found some sort of marriage counselor? And where would Hank go? She almost didn’t want to think about that one.
But she didn’t have to wait long to find out. The next evening, as she and the children were quietly eating baked macaroni, Hank walked in.
“Look, it’s Daddy,” Toby yelled, and he and Gabrielle rushed to embrace their father.
“Man, you wasted no time,” Gus said, and Hank tousled the boy’s hair.
Angry as she was, Claire had to admit that Hank was looking good for a change. Good as in “good and handsome,” good as in “good and sexy.”
His blond hair was washed and combed into perfect place. He had shaved, and he smelled of a cologne that was his favorite, though not actually hers. White shirt, blue blazer, khaki slacks. The hayseed preppy, she used to call him, and that’s exactly what he looked like now.
“May I pull up a chair?” he asked.
He didn’t wait for Claire to reply. He simply sat in his usual place and scooped out a portion of baked macaroni—with his hand. But only enough so that it wasn