“It really didn’t sound like that,” she conceded. “He seemed like he’d be thrilled to hear from you again.”
“I’ll consider texting him.” I squeezed the napkin in my lap as my knee bounced. “Enough time has passed. It’s probably okay to let some air out of this situation. I’m a hundred percent certain I’m over the break-up, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to find out what he wants.”
The tone of my voice must have awakened Oscar’sgood boyinstincts because he came over to curl up by my feet, rubbing his nose against my ankles. I reached down to scratch his back before sinking further into my chair.
Kasen and I had dated for eight years. I’d loved him, but that had long since faded into something between mild curiosity and indifference. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been nearly as sanguine when we’d broken up, and I felt the consequences of the choices I'd made then keenly now. Him staying away from our reunion had been my first clue. I’d wanted a clean break, not to make Kasen feel uncomfortable in the town he’d grown up in.
“Okay.” Maureen’s voice was monotone. “Just let us know if you need anything.”
“For sure,” Miranda agreed. “Besides, who needs to worry about Kasen when you’ve got new guy, football player-adjacent hottie Jaaaaaaaames coming over tomorrow?” She made kissy noises into the air.
I whacked her with a napkin and laughed. “Leave it alone. Let’s eat some chocolate mousse.”
We retreated to the living room for dessert. When Miranda went into the kitchen, Maureen pulled me aside. “You sure you’re okay? The stuff with Kasen?”
“Peachy,” I assured her. She gave me another once over before nodding sagely.
After my sisters left, I unblocked Kasen’s number. I’d decide about texting him in a few days. For now, I wanted to spend this weekend getting into the spirit of the season. With James.
Chapter four
James
ThedayafterThanksgiving,I set out for Marley’s house with a case of the blackberry sparkling water we both liked. I only lived a few miles away. But in just that short distance, I discovered the town had transformed overnight. Every storefront already sported a tree or a snowman, and there were long lines of garland strung over each block of Main Street. The nail salon advertised Christmas or Hanukkah-themed acrylics, and a kitschy Hawaiian shirt-wearing Santa greeted everyone coming into the bowling alley. Everywhere I drove I could see people on ladders tacking up lights.
As I rounded the corner into Marley’s neighborhood, there were folks in their front yards planning décor campaigns worthy of Clark Griswold. Along with traditional lights and wreaths, I saw two giant menorahs, a blow-up Darth Vader in a Christmas scarf, a reindeer made of candy canes, and cardboard cutouts of The Grinch, Buddy the Elf, Charlie Brown, and Jack Skellington, not to mention a rather terrifying Krampus. Nothing was elegant. The only unifying themes seemed to beunrepentant enthusiasmandmore, more, more. I could see why Marley loved it so much.
I’d been to her home often enough that one of her neighbors waved at me as I pulled into the driveway. She lived in the same house she’d grown up in. I knew from past conversations that she’d bought out her sisters after they’d inherited their mother’s estate. Alice had apparently been a prodigious saver, leaving a nice nest egg for each of her girls.
Patchy bushes bracketed the asphalt driveway on either side. The home’s split-level design matched six others on the block, although its lavender paint job stood out. Unlike her neighbors, Marley had yet to re-create the North Pole on her lawn, but I noticed a wreath on the door that hadn’t been there last week.
My dog Bambi whined impatiently in the back seat as we pulled in. Marley and I had met up with our pooches a few times at the park so they could play together. Bambi was a labradoodle, so he and Oscar had become fast friends. Kind of like their owners.
In addition to the wreath, I noticed a new HO-HO-HO doormat. I stepped on it when I knocked, and a few freakishly loud notes of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” played. Bambi startled and jumped back, barking.
I chuckled as he crouched down into attack mode. He was inching toward the HO-HO-HO in a belly crawl when the door opened.
“Hiya!” Marley said brightly. She eyed my dog before smirking up at me. “Oscar likes the doormat too.”
On cue, Oscar came bounding into the doorway, launching himself at Bambi. They tumbled into the house. Baring their teeth and pressing their faces together, they nipped and bit as they play-fought. It looked vicious, but in actuality, both doggos were big, dopey sweethearts.
After the excitement of the epic canine reunion, I registered Marley’s outfit, then wondered how I hadn’t noticed it immediately. Apparently, she’d dug into that holiday clothing collection she’d mentioned. Her jeans were fine, but the top—yikes. The neon green sweater almost glowed. It wasn’t even a Christmasy green but more of a nuclear lime, with a giant decorated palm tree across the front. If tacky lights and ornaments hadn’t covered the tree, it wouldn’t have looked like a holiday sweater at all.
Eyebrow raised, she practically dared me to say something as I followed her to the living room. I sealed my lips together, fighting a smile. She placed the sparkling water on the counter in the galley-style kitchen as we walked by. I loved visiting her house because it always felt so lived in. We rarely spent time in my rental apartment because I still hadn’t done much with it.
Marley’s living room was pleasantly haphazard. Pieces that appeared old and well-made mixed with IKEA stuff that wouldn’t last five years. Bookshelves stuffed with YA fantasy novels, colorful throw blankets on the couch and modern paintings on the walls—not to mention a dining room table littered with student essays and sharpies—made it clear this was Marley’s home as an adult, not a shrine to her childhood.
“How long have you had Bambi?” she asked. “I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”
I’d adopted Bambi as a puppy right around the same time I’d gotten married. After the divorce, I’d asked to keep him, and Cindy hadn’t fought me. He’d always been my dog anyway. The end of my marriage and my emergency need for a career change had all happened within a few years. Bambi had kept me sane, the one constant source of calm and consistency through it all. But I didn’t think Marley needed that level of detail. And I’d gone this long without laying anything on her about my ex or my old job.
“I got him as a puppy about four years ago.”
“Cool. I know he and Oscar are the same age, but I wasn’t sure if you’d had him his whole life.”
“Yep. I was front and center for Bambi’s whole pissing in the house and destroying shoes phase.”
Marley guffawed. “For Oscar it was cords. We couldn’t leave anything out—phone chargers, floor lamp connectors, cable lines—it all had to be hidden or tacked to the walls because he would chew it to pieces. Luckily, he grew out of that phase by the time my mom got really sick and needed to be hooked up to monitors. Lots of cords then.”
