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I scoff at her. “I don’t cry every time.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t!”
“Fine. Whatever. But you need to stop sulking. You lost your job, and Vincent cheated on you. I get it. It sucks. But he was a total douche, and that job worked you too hard. Maybe this is a good thing. A way to start fresh. Find somebody who appreciates you.”
I sag further into the couch. The lump in my throat resurfaces, and tears prick my eyes. Three years I dedicated my life to Vincent, only for him to cheat on me with his trashy secretary. His reasoning was the best part of it all. She understood his sexual needs and fetishes. Fetishes! What did he want from her that I couldn’t do? I would suck on toes. Gross, no, I wouldn’t. Whips and chains? Meh, I don’t do pain well.
“You really want to sulk over a guy who probably dreams about shoving a hamster up his—”
“Stop this absolute instant.” I almost crawl out of my skin at the thought. I squeeze my eyes shut, cringing. “Gross. You’re seriously not helping, you know.”
“Well, you moping around watching cheesy romance flicks and eating your weight in powdered donuts won’t make anything better. Vincent’s a jerk. He lost the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”
I grab a throw pillow and clutch it to my chest. He is a jerk. And he didn’t deserve me. To be really honest, Vincent wasn’t great. He was a typical guy who showed affection when I needed it and kept me company instead of being alone. He was my distraction.
Maybe going home will do me some good. I can’t remember the last time I indulged in the warmth and joy of Christmas—a holiday Vincent hated. A holiday that brought up too many memories. A holiday I avoided at all costs. But maybe it’s time.
“Fine.”
“Fine, as in you’ll shower? Or fine as in you’ll go home for Christmas?”
“Both.” I press my nose to my armpit. “Definitely shower first.”
A tightness forms in my chest as we pass the welcome sign for Willow Falls. Inhaling a deep breath, I take in the familiar scenery. It’s been five years, and still nothing has changed when it comes to holiday traditions. And this town lives for the joy of Christmas. Over-the-top houses sparkle with an array of lights and figurines. There’s not a roof without a Santa at the chimney, and if you’re missing a reindeer, they sure as hell talk about you at church. Rudolph’s nose is glowing a bright shade of red, just as it has since I could remember. Dad used to always say it’s how Santa found our house. God forbid the year the light went out and I tried climbing out of my window to the roof while holding a flashlight so Santa wouldn’t miss us.
We pull up to my childhood home. A thick layer of fluffy snow covers the ground, but not enough to hide Jesus and his manger display. An array of elves litter the bushes, carrying piles of glittery wrapped presents. Every decoration brings back memories. Being grounded for trying to unwrap the gifts. Scaring my parents to death when I was five, and they thought someone had kidnapped me, but I was sleeping in the miniature stable because I wanted to be just like Jesus. The ridiculous lights. So many—
“Unless you want me to escort you to the door, this is your stop, little lady.”
I blink and pull my eyes away from the glowing house to the driver. “Sorry. Thanks for the offer, but I got it.” I hold my breath and push open the door. I can’t believe Eileen talked me into this.
It will be good for you.
Holidays should be spent with family.
You’ve hit rock bottom and need a reset.
I completely disagree with the last part. I have not hit rock bottom. It’s called mourning. Look it up. The death of my perfect life. I had the perfect job as senior creative designer at one of the top advertising agencies in the city. It took me years to get there, and I was the best. Not only was my job amazing, but I also got to work side by side with my boyfriend, the director of brand management, Vincent Sheshull. We were unstoppable. Had the same aspirations. Goals. Work was our passion. We were both driven—me toward furthering my career, him toward boning his secretary.
It probably didn’t help that I lost my cool at work and threw a few sluggers at her. And, okay, maybe HR getting involved wasn’t the best. Turns out, no matter how good you are at what you do, assaulting another employee is frowned upon.
So, there was that. I walked out with a box of my things, my plant, and my pride. Well, the last one was in shambles. Still, I kept my chin up and had no regrets when I gave the entire building a fuck off speech, claiming my now ex had a small dick and couldn’t get it up in case anyone else wanted to take a ride. I might have had tiny regrets. That outburst may have cost me a referral. But I’d just lost the best job of my life, money, a steady income—and my heart was in a million devastated pieces.
