“I’m glad they’re going to be here for you. Finally.” Priya sinks into the hug for a few seconds longer than usual, and then pulls away, looking calmer and more like the take-no-prisoners businesswoman that I know and love. “Everything is done or is in the process of getting done by highly paid professionals.”
I nod along, glad she’s feeling better.
“That means you can distract me by telling me the plan to get over Beau, because I don’t like it when you’re sad.”
I sigh. “I’m working on it.” It’s not going well, but I’m trying. “But I just started fixing my relationship with my parents. It’s too much to deal with Beau on top of it.”
“Sure you can.”
“But I don’t want to.” I’ve been moving, and it’s helped immensely. Going to India, bonding with my parents, coming back to the chaos of this sale and finishing Beau’s office. It’s all helped me keep busy and helped me avoid thinking about whether I made a giant mistake leaving Beau.
And I think it was a giant mistake. One I may not recover from. One that I’m beginning to think will have as big an effect on me as my parents did. Except this time I have no one to blame but me, since I left.
But unlike my parents, I sincerely doubt he’ll wait over twenty years for me to figure it out myself.
“You need to.”
“You’re getting cut out of my will.”
“Oh no, what will I do without your collection of magnets from around the world?”
“Well, you’ll find out because you aren’t getting mine.”
“Maybe I’ll go to South Carolina and start my own collection.” Parting shot thrown, Priya wanders off to harass someone who’s not me.
Little does she know that I’ve got price alerts set for flights to South Carolina.
But what would I even say? “Sorry, I’m a coward and I’m still a little bit of a coward, but now I’m a coward in therapy trying to work on things and anyway would you like to be with me as I slowly get over my issues? Even though there’s still a chance I’ll fail and run again.”
I mean. That might work.
I have to do something. Because even though I’m not sure how it happened, when Ispecificallydidn’t want it to, he’s important to me. I think it was bit by bit, ounce by ounce, second by second. Like that lobster getting cooked in a slowly warming pot, and now I’m terrified and about to be dinner.
Okay, maybe not all of the metaphor tracks.
I see him everywhere. In every damn Christmas tree, Christmas light, and Santa I see, I think of him. Of what he would think of every Christmas decoration I see, like the Santa getting milk drunk with the elves in that one Christmas display on Fifth Avenue.
I know I can’t go on like this. I do need to do something about him. Maybe I can get away with a text? As I enter the bustle of the kitchen, I promise I’ll think about it after the sale.
The auction goes just as perfectly as every event Priya organizes. There was some Dad drama at the beginning over who would get to make an announcement. But I ended up doing it and we kept the dads apart and away from the stage. Then everything went smoother.
I’m almost finished sorting out the stuff that needs to be done tonight when I see a familiar head of closely cut dirty-blond hair.
Beau! What’s he doing here? Did he come to see me? What am I wearing? Oh, okay. Classy black dress.
I smooth down the sides of it as I walk toward him and then give my hair a last smooth over to hopefully tuck in any flyaways. I can’t do anything about the pounding of my heart except hope that no one else can hear it.
I stop right behind the mountain of a man. A mountain I very much missed climbing.
“I thought you hated art.” I touch him lightly on the elbow. My fingers shake a little in anticipation of seeing Beau again and I clasp them behind me to hide it.
The man, who is decidedly not Beauregard Dean Abbot, turns around and gives me a questioning look.
“Oh, sorry.” I back away and hold my hands up. “I thought you were someone else.”
“No problem. Merry Christmas.” The kind stranger moves away from me quickly.
“You, too.”
