“It’s not unhealthy, bro. Just not recommended.”
My favorite of the arguments went something like, “Cereal’s a hoax. I don’t trust it, and do not recommend it for any meal of the day.”
Before long, I was laughing without trying. It may have had something to do with the wine Jonathan kept plying on us. But as the night wore on, the black cloud hanging over me was still there, just less heavy. Every now and again there’d be a slip, a fractured moment where I’d get pulled back to the brownstone in Back Bay. The kids’ faces presenting me with my own ornament for the tree, or the chaos Winston the newt had caused. Mostly it was the men, and how they’d unlocked a part of me I didn’t know was there.
And Ethan’s face the night Emma ran off. That scathing look in his eyes when he said it was all my fault. I hadn’t left because of what he said. I left because he’d been right.
Jonathan found me adjusting the paper snowflake bunting over the bookshelf, and said, “The last two, my lady.”
“Oh, my God. If she doesn’t marry you, I will.” I took the blinis from him, smashed them together like a sandwich, then popped it into my mouth.
“Speaking of which…” His mouth curled into a knowing smile.
My eyes went wide, darting from him to Liv chatting away in the middle of the living room. I chewed faster, desperate toempty my mouth enough so I could let go of the excited scream caught in my throat. But the song changed, and I lost them both.
“Babe! My song!” Jonathan leapt across the floor to pull Liv into his arms.
I never took him for an N Sync kind of guy, but as I watched him dazzle Liv with his moves, it made total sense. Soon enough, everyone was dancing, laughing, and spinning around the living room as if there’d be no tomorrow. Jonathan called me over and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
By the time I landed in the huddle, I realized I was actually smiling. One of the guys was attempting something that looked like a combination of the Running Man and interpretive dance. Drinks in hand, everyone’s laughter mingled with the crackle of Liv’s old bluetooth speaker, filling the apartment with infectious cheer.
At the crest of the final chorus, our self-proclaimed dance star threw his arms out in a dramatic spin, and sailed quite literally over the back of the couch. A collective gasp rang out, punctuated by a cracking thud and startled yelp.
“Man down,” Jonathan laughed, rushing to his aid. Liv and I followed as best we could, our laughter making it hard to walk in a straight line.
“You okay down there, buddy?”
He groaned his response, and it took all three of us to get him back on his feet.
“Thanks for the rescue,” he said, and planted a kiss on both of our cheeks before launching back over the couch to continue dancing.
I couldn’t stop laughing. My wine glass wobbled dangerously, and I swatted at Jonathan when he tried to steady me, but his grin was all encouragement, like he knew the exact buttonsto press to pull me out of my own head. Liv was right there, snorting with laughter beside me, and for a few minutes, I wasn’t the outsider of the night anymore. I was just one more idiot in a pile of Christmas throwbacks, spinning arms, shoving past each other, and loving every ridiculous second.
A few songs later, the laughter had begun to thin around the edges, and someone turned the volume down as we approached midnight. Shoes kicked off, coats draped over chairs, and the group had settled into the quieter hum of post-dance exhaustion. Glasses clinked less, conversations leaned toward low chuckles and the occasional teasing remark.
The initial surge of holiday buzz was fading, replaced by that familiar lull that always came when the night started to curl toward an end. I sat on the armrest of the couch, listening to all this when I realized I hadn’t checked in with Liv in a while.
I found her in the kitchen, perched on a stool by the counter, carefully refilling a platter of cookies and cheese cubes with a concentration usually reserved for fine art.
She glanced up and caught my eye, giving me a small, conspiratorial smile. “I knew you could do it.”
“Thanks,” I said, coming over to help.
She tilted her head. “Thanks?”
“For letting me stay here.” I kept my focus on the cheese cubes, unable to meet her studious gaze. “And for putting up with me being a party pooper for most of the night.”
Liv’s smile widened and she slid off the stool, wrapping me in a hug. Her warmth was immediate, grounding me, and I rested my head against her shoulder for a moment, letting the tension in my chest ease a little.
“You’re like a sister to me, Maren,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to look at me. “I don’t care about your mood,just that you’re here. Besides, it’ll all be ancient history once we get to my parents’ cabin.”
“That’s still happening?”
She checked me with a no-nonsense look. “Of course. It’s an institution. Christmas with the old crew from college. You’ll forget all about this pity party the second we land.”
“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” I forced a small laugh.
I wanted to be excited. I wanted to feel that spark Liv had in her, the anticipation, the fun. But I couldn’t stop the ghosts of Ethan, Miles and Adrian tugging at me. I’d walked out without explanation, without saying goodbye. I could still see the stunned hurt on Ethan’s face when I turned away from him outside Fenway church.
