"Didn't sound small from out here."
I ignore that comment and change the subject. "Can you get me a coffee please?"
"On it!" She scurries away towards the break room.
As I pull up the documents on my tablet, my mind replays our moment in my office. The intensity in his eyes, the electricity between us, the pull I felt even through my anger. It would be so much easier if I could just hate him completely. But something about him keeps slipping past my defenses, finding the cracks in my carefully constructed walls.
That's exactly why I need to reinforce them. Being burned by Ethan taught me life lessons. I won't make those mistakes again—especially not with someone who's walked away from me once already.
Chapterten
Charlie
"—and then Trisha had the audacity to say I needed to redo the entire presentation!" Emily waves her fork for emphasis, almost sending a piece of broccoli flying across the table.
Dad nods, his salt-and-pepper hair looking more salt than pepper these days. He's wearing his favorite navy cardigan with the leather elbow patches. His "professor uniform" even though he's been retired for two years. Mom leans forward, completely engrossed in Emily's never ending workplace drama.
I should be listening. I should care about my little sister’s terrible co-worker and the office politics at her job. But my mind flutters elsewhere.
"Charlotte?" Mom's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Are you with us, honey?"
"Yeah, sorry," I mutter. "Just tired from work."
I push the potatoes around my plate, wondering how much longer until I can escape this Wednesday family dinner ritual.
Avoiding Sebastian and only talking to him when absolutely necessary is exhausting. It's like trying not to notice a splinter under your skin. The more you try to ignore it, the more it demands your attention. Every time he walks by my office, I find myself holding my breath. Every email with his name in my inbox makes my stomach flip. I've started taking the stairs to avoid potential elevator encounters. This weird dance of professional distance is draining me more than facing him would, but I'm too stubborn to admit it. Pride is an expensive currency.
"Oh I'm sorry sweetheart, but did you see the email I forwarded you with your flight details?" Mom places another helping of pot roast potatoes on my plate despite me telling her earlier that I wasn't hungry. "Dad and I will be flying first class, and we've got you and Emily in coach."
I'm halfway through chewing a bite of my pot roast, trying to remember what email she's talking about. My parents' dining room hasn't changed since I was in high school with the same mahogany table with the tiny scratch from when I tried to carve my initials when I was eight, same landscape paintings Mom picked up at a local art fair, same family photos chronicling Emily's and my awkward phases. Everything is still the same, well except for the explosion of Christmas that's taken over every surface. The dining room table runner is festooned with holly and pinecones, twinkling lights frame the windows, and a miniature Christmas village occupies the sideboard. Mom's infamous nutcracker collection stands at attention on every available surface, their painted faces watching us eat with wooden judgment.
"What email?" I ask.
Mom gives me that look, the one that says she's disappointed but not surprised. "For the Colorado trip, honey. I sent it on Monday."
Something cold and unpleasant slides down my spine. The Colorado trip. Our annual family vacation to Aspen. The one we've been taking my entire life.
The one where the Harpers—as in Ethan Harper, as in my ex who is now engaged to someone else—always join us because they've been my parents' best friends since before Emily and I were born.
Fuck.
"Earth to Charlie," Emily says, waving her fork. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"The trip is... that's coming up?" I try to sound casual and fail spectacularly.
"Next week," Dad says, cutting his meat. "The week before Christmas, same as always, dear."
My stomach twists. Next week. I'm supposed to spend a week in our house with my ex and his shiny new fiancée right next-door next week. The same ex whose Instagram engagement photos sent me into a spiral that ended with me bringing home a stranger who turned out to be my new coworker.
Double fuck.
"Charlotte?" Mom prompts. "Did you request your time off work?"
I don't need to request time off work because my company has this new age policy in place where we get the entire week before, during and after Christmas off to spend time with our families. Which is amazing but my family doesn't need to know that.
"I, um..." I put my fork down, deciding to rip off the band-aid. "I don't think I can make it this year."
The table goes silent. Dad puts down his knife and fork. Mom's smile freezes. Emily chokes on her wine.
