BEAUTIFUL MESS [Book 2] | MIKHAIAH

6 🌸

Christmas arrived a week after Jed's karaoke disaster. I was a little dazed by the abrupt onset of the festive season.

"Now what?" Amaia asked.

I dropped my fork to the plate with a clatter that made Amaia wince. "What are we going to do?"

"About what?"

"Ten days." I left my mouth open and shook my head. After an intense two and a half months of medicine, the notion of free time was as alien as me craving raw carrot.

Amaia blinked at me, tilted her head and sighed as she picked up her plate. "I will assume you're talking about Christmas break," she said, running hot water into the sink to wash her dishes.

"I didn't plan. I have no presents. I have no money for gifts." I had no money for anything. I thought about home. I'd never missed a Christmas there. My chin wobbled. "What about Mom and Dad? I have no money."

"You said that already."

"I can't visit them! What will they do without me?" Amaia was wiping her hands and looking at me like I had sprouted broccoli out of my ears. I groaned and covered my face with my hands. What was with all the vegetable analogies? Amaia was a terrible influence. "I'm a rotten daughter," I moaned into my palms.

"Yes. You are."

I grunted against my arms. That was offensive. True but offensive.

"When was the last time you called your parents?"

I looked up and blinked. "I spoke to them last week...I think." I screwed my face up. I'm sure it was last week. I reached for my phone. After accessing my call logs, I let my upper body fall forward so I struck the counter with my forehead. "I haven't called them in weeks." I groaned. I also noticed a lot of missed calls in the past two weeks. Missed calls I had good intentions about returning.

"I know."

"You know? How?"

"Because your mother resorted to calling me instead. You'll be pleased to know they are well, and that your father has requisitioned a..." Amaia paused and reached for something on the fridge. It was a small piece of paper. "A two-groove, small block, crankshaft pulley. Whatever that means."

"Really?" I was grinning when Amaia looked back up and she shook her head at me. She never did understand what I saw in Mavis. My elation deflated a second later. "I won't be able to put it in. I have no idea when I'm going to get back home." I covered my face again. "Twenty-three years, and I haven't missed a Christmas with my parents."

"Twenty-four, and I'm sure they'll survive."

"I'm not...oh." My brain was so scrambled I'd forgotten how old I was. "And no they won't. I'm their only child. The apple of my daddy's eye, the light in Mom's heart."

Amaia rolled her eyes.

"Hey, no eye rolling."

"You're a grown woman, and they're adults. Describing yourself as the apple of your daddy's eye is reserved for young children only."

"I love my parents and they love me. So I can be as soppy as I wish."

"You're spoiled by them, is what you are."

"Am not."

"Yes, Mika, you are. You arrived here last year like an infant being weaned. Lucky for you, you are adept at medicine."