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I let her drag me to her room with Gabby trailing behind us. Gabby keeps spouting how unpredictable this whole situation is between Jocelyn’s advice about how I should style my hair. I really should have gone to them in the first place, but I was afraid they’d make a big deal about it like they’re doing right now. Did I mention, I love every second? Because I do.
They start making up outrageous scenarios about how he’s going to kiss me tonight. Jocelyn thinks he’ll steal the mike to serenade me on stage first. Rockwell couldn’t be paid a million dollars to sing on stage. Gabby thinks he’ll knock over the punch to find a reason to get me into the janitor’s closet for privacy. Their ideas get stranger and more hilarious as we go. I’m fine with any of them as long as I get my dance first. I want my list checked off, in order, please.
After creating a second small mess in Jocelyn’s room, I model a white dress for my friends. I’m shorter than Jocelyn, so while it hits her at the knee, it’s more mid-calf for me. Its subtle A-line hem and billowy sleeves are charming though. I look in the mirror at the square neck and elastic smocked bodice that hugs my figure. I have to admit, it looks amazing with my boots.
“This is the dress,” Gabby says.
Jocelyn nods. “It looks better on you than it ever did on me.”
Jocelyn makes everything look good, so I don’t believe her. “Do I wear my hair up or down?”
“Up.” They say at the same time.
I laugh and let Jocelyn push me into a seat. I’m her model for the next hour as she transforms my hair and face. Gabby takes over my nails. I wonder why I didn’t put a makeover on my Christmas list. Being pampered like this is a strong contestant for chocolate therapy. My nerves for tonight fade with the application of red lipstick matching the color on my nails. Rockwell is going to love the hoedown. It’s going to be exactly like last night but better because we’ll be dancing.
By the time we arrive at the reception hall where the dance is taking place, my nerves are back. I’m excited for Rockwell to see me all dolled up. I don’t compare to the city girls with their regular chemical peels, Botox, and perfect highlights, but my friends have made me feel more beautiful tonight than I’ve felt in a long time.
As a result, I get asked to dance right away by a man in his seventies. I hope Rockwell shows up soon.
Chapter 18
Rockwell
Ialmostdidn’tcometo the dance. Last minute, I decided it would be a good opportunity to apologize for crossing lines during the movie and to reset my boundaries. The plan is on track until I catch sight of Brie through the lobby doors trimmed in red and green ribbons.
Upbeat country Christmas music resonates through the oversized stage speakers, and Brie is swaying to the rhythm with her friends on the gleaming wood floor. Her white dress radiates in the subdued light, and she easily stands out in the crowd. Her hair is gathered off her shoulders, forming an adorable knot on the top of her head. Two strands fall in front, framing her face.
Travis slaps my back, startling me. “Are you stalling? Don’t make me drag you in there. I’m the one who wanted to stay home, remember?”
I try to blink away the daze created by Brie. How am I supposed to redraw lines when all I want to do is hold her in my arms and tell how I really feel. My heart races. I shake my hands, trying to get a grip on myself. I’m a nervous wreck. I’m not used to these emotions. My dormant feelings are springing alive at the sight of her.
Man, Brie is beautiful.
“I’m ready,” I lie. I’m not ready. I’m falling and I have no idea where I’m going to land. My plan is weaker than I thought. Or maybe that’s me. After reading her Christmas list, I know this isn’t just a dance. It’s a commitment. If I cross this one off, I’ll want to keep going until we reach the end. Together. I swallow.
I’m still planning on leaving Bearwood.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and my chest falls. “It’s my dad.”
“What?” Travis asks.
“My dad is calling me.” The man who taught me how to leave.
“Are you going to answer it?”
“I don’t know.” The pull between me and Brie is tightening, and I want nothing more than to shove my phone back into my pocket and forget about it. Dad probably wants to talk to me about hisotherfamily he lives with now. We talk maybe once or twice a year, and it’s all I can handle. It’s always a long conversation, and usually prompted by his guilt. He always ends with an apology and tells me he loves me.
I don’t hate him like I used to. I’ve worked hard to let go of the disgust and anger. Spending time together is another story. Forgiveness doesn’t always equate to trust. I know he’s trying though, and he’ll always be my dad. It’ll mean a lot to him to talk at Christmas time. Last we talked, things weren’t going so well with his new wife, and he was down.
The call goes to voicemail, but a text quickly follows.
DAD:Call me! We need to talk.
I glance up at Brie. If I stay, I’ll only put off the inevitable. I know what I have to do, and my dad’s call is a timely reminder.
“Travis, can you go in without me?”
“Who, me?”
