“Ben.” My voice was gentle. “Of course I love you.” I’d been kidding myself for months—not to mention years—pretending I wasn’t in love with him. I’d put my heart on ice, but I’d never stopped loving him. Unthawing these last few months, feeling the sheer intensity of joy and desire and longing for him again, had been confusing at first and then wonderful.
His entire body lit: his eyes brightened. His shoulders lifted. He took a deep breath and reached for me—but I put up a hand.
The problem was, recognizing we loved each other didn’t solve our problems. I wasn’t Daisy David, or any sort of Disney princess—I knew love didn’t conquer all. Eventually, I would do something to mess us up—get needy, act twisted—or Ben would change his mind and leave me, and I’d be right back where I started.
“I just wish it was enough,” I said.
Ben’s face jerked—sharp, like I’d slapped him. I could see him struggling to steady his breathing, to keep his shoulders high. He either wasn’t going to look at me, or he couldn’t.
So I did us both a favor. I took one last look at him and slipped out the door.
Love had never stopped anyone from hurting anyone else. That was the hard truth, and it did no good pretending otherwise. Starting now, I would do what was pragmatic, what was mature. It would save us both a lot of trouble, in the end.
24
New-Age Radical
’Tis the season to be—Actually, you know what?Fuck Christmas. Yeah, I said it. Stupid, cheerful holiday. It could take its candy canes and mistletoe and shove it.
I glared up from my armchair at Mac and Zoey, who were dressed as elves, singing “Deck the Halls” as they wound lights around the world’s saddest little Christmas tree in the corner of my living room. Claire and Simon sat cross-legged on the floor wrapping presents, tubes of paper, an industrial-sized package of tape and somehow only one pair of scissors between them. Annie stood over my fireplace, hanging our traditional friend stockings. I got zero delight—zero—out of what used to be my favorite sight of the year: the wornStonerstocking, its underwear-clad-Santa’s belly all stretched out from years of being stuffed with stocking presents that were a little too big and bulgy to strictly qualify as stocking presents. Otherwise known as the best kind of stocking presents.
My friends had turned this house into a stupid winter wonderland. Even the cats were in a festive mood. The moment Ted the finance guy sat down on the couch to watch Mac string the lights, Al and Bill had emerged out of their hiding spots and hopped onto his lap. Now they were snuggled into small, downy circles of fur by his side. They’d taken to Ted as instantaneously and inexplicably as Mac had.
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. What was that bland amortization wizard’s secret? From the outside, Ted looked like a fraternity boy ascending semigracefully into middle age. He must have chocolate-flavored skin or keep shiny ribbons in his pockets—somethingto explain both Mac’s and the cats’ attraction.
My mom buzzed in from the kitchen, holding a ladle. “All right, ladies. Who wants more eggnog? Lee, I mixed another batch without bourbon for you.”
“Sssss,”I hissed. “Without bourbon it’s like drinking sugary egg froth.”
“What was that?” Mom chirped. “About my delicious, world-famous eggnog?”
“Nothing,” I mumbled, and held out my mug dutifully. I was the one who’d asked for it sans booze, after all. But I didn’t have to like it.
It was our annual Wrapping Party. Every year, Mom, Alexis, Claire, Simon, Mac, Annie—and recently Zoey—came to my house the Saturday before Christmas. We wrapped presents, drank our weight in wine and eggnog, ate pizza and watchedIt’s a Wonderful Lifeto get in the Christmas spirit. Then everyone came back the day after Christmas, and we filled each other’s stockings and had a big Unwrapping Party. I loved this tradition.
Normally.
This year, I had not invited them over. I had not decorated or purchased food. I had not even put pants on. I was in the middle of a perfectly good sulk, staring at myself in the mirror in the dark while Elliott Smith played at full volume, when out of the blue, my doorbell rang. And there they stood, like some demented carolers’ group, grinning at me with all their unwelcome cheer. They carried wrapping paper, grocery bags full of food, and greasy pizza boxes. Zoey had her arms wrapped around a pathetic little Christmas tree, the clear runt of the litter at the tree farm. As soon as she saw me looking, her eyes lit up, and she stroked her hand over it like she was Vanna White presenting a brand-new Cadillac.
It, and they, were expressly unwelcome.
It, and they, did not care.
Claire had shoved in first, obviously, pushing me aside when it was clear I wasn’t inclined to move. Simon followed, shrugging apologetically and keeping his gaze carefully above my pants-less bottom half. Annie had breezed by, kissing me on the cheek and assuring me they’d brought every supply, not to worry. Zoey told me the tree’s name was Clifford and asked where to put him, and Mac air-kissed both my cheeks and whispered, “It’s Ted’sfirstChristmas with us!” She tugged him into the house before I could answer, “And maybe his last.”
That left Mom, a grinning older man who was presumably her new boyfriend Ethan, and Alexis glowering at her shoes. Oh, boy. Super. Not awkward at all.
Mom hugged me, then turned to Ethan. “E, this is my eldest daughter, Lee. Normally she wears pants, but her boyfriend and her boss both broke up with her.”
“They didnot,” I protested. Honestly, the woman made me sound pathetic.
Though, in fairness, I had fallen into a bit of a slump since the Lise office closed for the holidays. And yes, since I also hadn’t seen or heard from Ben in over a week. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Dakota’s checks were probably already on their way to the senators, and the Green Machine bill was a done deal. A dirty, dirty done deal. And Ben was probably at his mom’s house for the holidays, way up in North Texas. Or maybe he was with Sarah, after all?
Mentally, I slapped myself. I didn’t care.
Ethan, who couldn’t see inside my head, smiled and held out his hand. He had a warm smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “That sounds like a reason to avoid pants to me. Hi, Lee. It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much.”
I sized him up. He was handsome, early sixties, same as my mom. Hair half gray, half brown, still plenty of it. Good dresser, and he’d made the effort of putting on a brown sports coat, like he was going somewhere fancy. Boy, would he be disappointed by my chamber of sadness. But still—it was cute.
