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I stir awake at the memory in my dream. There’s a soft knock on my door, and I grumble, turning on my side, wanting to sleep forever.
“Morning, honey. I was wondering if you wanted to go shopping with me today. I still need to get some last-minute gifts and wasn’t sure if you needed to pick up any yourself. Or for Vincent.”
Vincent.
Strangely, I haven’t thought about him since I arrived home. . .since. . .well, I’ve been too busy pining over my other ex—who I kissed last night—who kissed me last night in the most beautiful, devastating way…just before I slapped him and ran off.
“Ugh,” I grunt.
“Oh, honey, are you not feeling well?”
With my face stuffed in my pillow, I say, “I’m feeling just fine.” Embarrassed. Embarrassed. Did I mention embarrassed? Why did I slap him? Because he hit a nerve. Oh yeah. Sounds justified. You asked for it. Dammit!
“Are you sure? I can’t understand you with your mouth in your pillow.”
I pull my face away. “Sorry, I was just saying, yes, I would love to go shopping. I have a ton of people still on my list.”
She claps her hands together. “Great. Be ready in twenty? We don’t want to get stuck in the holiday rush.” And then she’s off, leaving me to wallow in my actions from last night. Maybe I should just go home. Tack on the lies and tell my parents there’s a work emergency I have to get back to. Mom would be upset, but she would understand. Then I could avoid ever running into Liam again and addressing that panty-dropping kiss or the immature slap.
Great plan.
I sit up and throw my legs off the bed, scoping out all my things and how fast I can toss them back in my suitcase.
Another knock sounds on my door. “Your father’s already off to the hardware store, so it’s just us girls today!” Then she’s off again.
I throw myself back onto the bed. What am I doing? I can’t leave my mom high and dry. “Can’t wait!” I call out, hating myself for even thinking of leaving. God! I’m the worst daughter ever.
I put my ass into gear, sliding into a pair of leggings and a puffy red sweater. I used to live for Christmas. Liam and I both did. Everything around this time was always perfect in our little bubble. And magical. And then the bubble burst.
After Liam and I went our separate ways, and without much explanation to my parents, I packed my bags and took off. I enrolled in a small institution in the city and pushed myself so hard that I never slowed down enough to allow myself to think of him. I graduated in three years. During that time, I landed an internship at a small advertising company, where I worked my tail off until I was hired full-time.
As the years passed, I moved up in status. Nicer apartments, prestigious social circles. And sometime during the mayhem of my life, I met Vincent. He was that tall drink of water people talk about. He had the looks, the money, and enough brains for me to fall into his bed one night after too many martinis at a work event. I’m not even sure we discussed dating. It just happened. Our lives started to meld, and before we knew it, I was paying rent at one place while living at his. There’s no sweep-me-off-my-feet story. No Romeo that kept me there. He was… comfortable. I loved him, obviously, since I spent thirty days sulking on a couch watching pathetic love stories while eating my weight in donuts. But was it the relationship I was mourning? Was it the job? Or was it the fact that I lost two things I had poured myself into so I wouldn’t focus on the one thing that truly rattled my soul:
Him.
Still in a fog, I head downstairs, shove my feet in my boots, slide on my snuggly jacket, and find my mom waiting at the door.
The department store is absolutely bananas. Last-minute shoppers are frantic to grab anything they can get their hands on. I stare off into the distance as two ladies fight over a cardigan.
“Honey, do you think your father would like this?” she asks, holding up a flannel jacket he has in every color.
“No, I think he’d love it.”
I wander aimlessly through the section of fancy dresses and into the workout clothes. By the time I come out of my daze, I’m in the menswear section, specifically by the Henley shirts. I stop at a gray knit Henley similar to the one Liam had on at the hardware store. I run the fabric through my fingers, remembering the day at the hardware store and how it felt against my skin when my arms were wrapped around him. An earthy scent lingered, and the shirt fit his muscles like a glove. Before I know it, I’m grabbing one in each color.
