Twenty-Nine
The MacMillan houseat Christmas was a full-sensory experience, and despite everything I’d been feeling, the second I stepped inside and smelled the cinnamon and pine, my whole body exhaled.
My mother, as predicted, had already gone into her annual holiday overachiever mode. Garland snaked around every banister, candles illuminated every window, and a wreath adorned every surface that could hold a nail. The living room showcased our tree with mismatched ornaments from our childhood and my grandmother’s hand-knitted stockings.
My parents greeted me with hugs first, and I clung to them a little longer than normal. Connor, my brother, came skidding down the hallway in socks, nearly wiping out, and the rest of my siblings followed.
Within two hours, I’d eaten two bowls of stew, half a loaf of homemade bread, three cookies, and a small bowl of chocolate pudding Dad had insisted I “just try.” I slept almost twelve hours that night. When I woke up, I still missed Logan.
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Over the following days, we whirled through our holiday plans, visiting the zoo, the science museum, ice skating at the rink in TD Square near the Devonian Gardens, and hitting up Rollerland. Then Christmas Eve arrived fast and furious.
Mom made tourtière because she insisted our family had French-Canadian roots despite no one being able to confirm the genealogy. We ate roast beef and mashed potatoes, and had our traditional Christmas Eve movie marathon, which started withIt’s a Wonderful Life(Dad cried, again), moved toWhite Christmas(Lisa mocked the costumes, again), and ended withHow the Grinch Stole Christmas. I voted for Rudolph, but Connor still thought the claymation was creepy.
Exchanging presents on Christmas Day was lovely, and eating our breakfast buffet for lunch provided enough calories for the entire week. My mom sent me home with way too many leftovers, and Jenna and Lindsey were more than happy to help me use them up.
While I was beyond grateful for the time with my family, it only made my own apartment feel emptier. In an attempt not to be lonely and pathetic, one night I bundled up and headed to Tash’s place, where she and our art-school friends were hosting a White Elephant party with mulled wine and mandatory thrift store Christmas sweaters.
On December twenty-ninth, I gave in and called Logan. When I got his answering machine, I didn’t leave a message.
The Outlaws hosted a kegger at Rory and Axel’s, but I couldn’t bring myself to go. Instead, I passed the next two days braless, enjoying the last of my mom’s sausage rolls along with my peanut butter and crackers.
On the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, I drove over to the house early with Maddie and Chase to prep appetizers. The house smelled like garlic and puff pastry and the sugar cookies Connor was decorating with far too many sprinkles.
Maddie and Chase jumped fully into the chaos. Chase was gamely letting Connor quiz him on random facts about the NHL while Maddie arranged crackers on a platter. I was chopping cilantro when Mom sidled up beside me.
“How’s Logan?” she asked.
My knife slipped and nearly took off a fingertip. “Fine, I think.”
Maddie looked up from the crackers.
“Hm.” Mom dipped her finger in the sweet chilli mayo she was mixing and tasted. “Ooh, that’s good.”
She put the lid on the jar and slid it into the fridge. “Did you invite him?”
I frowned. “Who?”
“Logan.” Connor answered. He had a knack for eavesdropping.
The cilantro leaves were becoming less diced and more shredded. “He’s pretty busy this time of year with the team.” Complete lie. Logan had complained about how I would be gone for so much of the break.
I hadn’t formally announced anything, and with the press walk-through over and done with, I didn’t feel the need to. There were enough stories popping up over the holidays that nobody cared about Logan Kemp’s art student girlfriend.
But I would still have to tell my family and friends. “Actually, that’s not completely true. I haven’t talked with Logan?—”
“Because he’s been in Toronto,” Maddie cut in. I blinked, my mouth hanging open.
“Oh yeah!” Connor set the sprinkles on the counter with a rattle. “Did he get to do Christmas with his family?”
“Probably.” Maddie grinned.
“But if he didn’t, they’re paying him a shit-ton of money,” Chase murmured, and Maddie shot him a look.
Connor was oblivious. He started going off on the game, how it had gone into overtime and then a shoot out.
What was happening right now?I stared at Maddie, willing her to give me some kind of explanation, but we were interrupted by the doorbell.
