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“Yeah.”

I smiled a little. “One of the partners at the Chicago branch of my firm hates Christmas so they’re not allowed to decorate over there.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Really… you work with Scrooge?”

“Ha. William’s nice. It’s one of the reasons I opted for the Minneapolis office over the Chicago one, though. It seemed a little too uptight.”

“You almost moved to Chicago?” he asked.

“Yup. They offered me a huge raise and everything.”

“And only the spirit of Christmas kept you here?” he teased.

“I guess you could say that,” I mumbled.

“That where you met Beau?” he said, saying the name like it tasted bad. “At the firm?”

I gave him a look. “Who told you about Beau?”

“Someone. Your mom.”

I smirked at the house. “He wasn’t a lawyer. He was in finance. Did really well too. My engagement ring cost more than my car.”

“Are you trying to make me jealous?”

I glanced at him. “Do I still have the ability to make you jealous?”

“Yeah. You do.”

Good.

“So I’m guessing you’re single, then?” I said.

“I am.”

That was my next text to my best friend.

It was weird that I had a best friend who’d been in my life for years who had never met Jeremy. Never even heard about him, because why would I talk about Jeremy?

I’m sure he had people like that too. Whole relationships, romantic and platonic, that I knew nothing about—and they knew nothing about me. I was a chapter, closed, in a book he’d tossed on a nightstand and left behind years ago.

We stood in silence while the lights moved in time to the song.

“I know I messed up leaving,” he said next to me. “But you didn’t have to break up with me.”

I turned to look at him full-on.

“I begged you,” he said. “For months. And then one day you just vanished. No call no nothing and then I’m blocked? That’s it? All those years, that’s how it ends?”

I looked at him sadly.

That is what happened. But that’s not the full story.

The front door flew open. “Jeremy! You’re an hour late!” The woman stood with her hands on her hips, silhouetted by the lights in the foyer.

Jeremy’s mom, Debra.

“Sorry, Mom,” he called, not breaking eye contact with me.