Page 139 of My Favorite Holidate

Except that little issue of Brady.

One thing I’ve learned from our faux romance is that I can’t fake my way through problems. Jerks are a part of life, and I have to face them head-on. I have to face my own hurt, my own shame, and my own feelings about how I should be treated.

I have to stop hiding.

This is the beginning of me really trying to change.

And that should start by me doing what I came to Evergreen Falls to do—stand up for my sister—not protect myself. “I really should go check on Charlotte,” I say, pointing to the door, but then my gaze strays to the bed. What happens later when we both want to sleep?

My gut churns with a whole new worry.

Will we do the bed/couch dance again? But likealways, Wilder reads me instantly. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says, like it’s an order.

I don’t have any fight left in me. It will be beyond awkward to have him sleeping on the couch ten feet away, but sometimes life is awkward and you have to live with the discomfort. “Sure, that’s fine. I’ll get you a blanket.”

I get up to grab one, but he’s faster. Then he says, “I’ll be in the living room onthat couch.”

Oh.

Looks like I got that wrong too.

He grabs some clothes and toiletries, then leaves. The second the door shuts, I am not fine at all. I cry giant, messy, sloppy tears. But they’re silent. Because I don’t want anyone to hear me.

47

MAN BABY TANTRUMS

Fable

There’s a knock on my door a few minutes later. I sit up, grab a tissue to swipe at my eyes, and croak a wobbly, “Yes?” as hope bangs its drum in my chest.

He’s back.

He misses me.

He doesn’t want to stop anything. He wants to start everything.

“It’s us,” Josie says. “And we have something for you.”

My heart sinks, but not for long. I need my friends badly, maybe more than I need Wilder right now. “I hope it’s a time machine so I can go back to three weeks ago and undo my dumb decisions.”

“The second-best thing,” Maeve says cheerily through the wood. “It’s wine and cheese.”

I sniffle. “That’ll do.”

I drag my sorry ass up and open the door. The parade of besties marches in—Maeve, Everly, and Josie aredressed in their Christmas jammies, carrying box wine, mugs, and a charcuterie board covered in cheese, olives, and crackers. Everly carries a canvas bag on her arm.

They sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, and I join them. “I’m such a freaking mess,” I blurt out. There’s no point pretending I’m fine. I texted them earlier in the day to tell them about our New Year’s Eve date. But they would have found out at the Great Town Square megaphoning anyway.

Josie gives me a sympathetic smile. “You’re not a mess. But tonight was definitely a disaster, and I’m really sorry that happened.”

Everly rubs my arm, the ends of her ponytail swinging as she moves. “Do you want to talk about it? How are you feeling?”

My instinct saysdon’t talk about it. But I’m so tired of holding everything in. I’m so exhausted by my own fears and tired of pretending I’m okay all the time. As Maeve pours a glass of wine, I waste no time saying, “I’m not fine. We went from…falling to…we’re not going to date after all.” My voice breaks.

The soft blue lights from the tree flicker across Maeve’s face, and she shakes her head like there’s water in her ears. “You’re not going to date at all? Why not? What’s the point of that? I thought you had real feelings. Sure, they were complicated since you work together, but then it seemed like you uncomplicated it by just…embracing all these feelings.”

“Then it got complicated all over again. See exhibit A. Tonight.”