Oh, no. What have I done?
If Santa were real, he’d be belly laughing with his elves and reindeer over the situation I find myself in. I still can’t move, but I force myself to blink. That seems to loosen up the rest of me, though my panic is at an all-time high, even higher than when I saw Rachel kissing Jake right before Easter dinner—we’d been together for two years at the time. It’s no mystery why I’m no longer a fan of family holidays, right?
My eyes dart between Mr. Barrington, my boss-turned-chauffeur, and Mom, who beams like he’s the best present she’s ever unwrapped. I have to wonder if her enthusiasm is a manifestation of the guilt she must feel over supporting my cheating sister’s current relationship with Jake.
I open my mouth to correct her about why my boss is here, but nothing comes out. I’m talking dead silence.
He doesn’t look any better than I do and bites his lip. Something I’ve never seen him do since I met him in July. He doesn’t appear to be the lip-biting type, so I wonder if this is a nervous reaction of his.
So. Not. Good.
I silently pray for a Christmas miracle, preferably one where the floor opens up and swallows me whole before this situation gets any more tangled than the lights hanging on our ancient artificial tree.
The fake tree means there’s no pine scent wafting in the air, but you can’t miss the cinnamon. I need to say something, except… Perhaps pretending to have laryngitis for the next two days would solve the problem.
Mom gives him another once-over and grins like he’s holding a robin’s egg-blue box from Tiffany’s neatly tied with a bow. I can’t remember if they use white or red ribbons in December. Not that my budget has ever let me buy anything at Tiffany’s, though Rachel got a charm bracelet from there when she turned seventeen. I got a calculator that my math class required, which is the story of my life. Guess nearly dying after rolling off the couch at six months scared my folks so much all they could do was shower Rachel with love and whatever else she’s wanted since then. Me? I was an oops baby. Unplanned. Who needed a second child when they had the perfect daughter already?
“So, who is this handsome young man?” Mom asks.
I glance from her to Mr. Barrington. I must tell her the truth.
“Mom.” My voice squeaks like a mouse caught in Powerfluff’s crate. “This is—”
Dad bursts into the entryway, wearing a Santa hat that’s seen much better decades. He looks like he’s aged five years in the past nine months. That makes me sad, but he’s put Rachel first as Mom has for as long as I can remember.
He eyes my boss with curiosity. “Who do we have here? I’m Ed Sinclair. But friends call me Eddy.”
Mr. Barrington extends his arm to Dad. “John Barrington, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Mom gasps, her eyes bulging like some kind of toy. “Barrington? As in Abby’s boss?”
I’m surprised she remembers him, given I haven’t seen them since he arrived at the office, but I may have mentioned him by name on the Fourth of July or Thanksgiving when I made my excuses.
“Uh.” Mr. Barrington appears caught off guard again, but then he straightens. For a man who has been driving for more than an hour and a half in the snow after a full day at work, he looks fresh. His clothes aren’t even wrinkled. “Yes, I am.”
Mom nudges me. “Dating the boss, huh? You must’ve called him a grumpy grouch to throw us off.”
My face burns hotter than chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Why hasn’t the ground swallowed me yet? I may just die of embarrassment at this point. “No, Mom, it’s not—”
“Mrs. Sinclair, it’s not what you think.” Mr. Barrington’s calm, warm voice washes over me like chocolate fondue, a surprisingly pleasant feeling, given how he usually talks when I’m around. “I gave Abby a ride because of the snowstorm.”
Dad chuckles, slapping my boss on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “Aride? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
My mom giggles. “Oh, Eddie. Leave the kids alone.”
Ugh. This kid wants to crawl into Powerfluff’s carrier and hibernate until New Year’s. I inhale deeply. “It’s not like that, Dad.”
He only laughs, which somehow makes things worse. My freezing apartment would have been a better alternative than this.
Mom is halfway to the kitchen when she glances over her shoulder. “I’ll make that hot cocoa for you lovebirds. Oh, Rachel and Jake are on their way. Won’t they be surprised? Though this just proves Jake wasn’t the one for you. Everything always works out for a reason, including heartbreak. And now you can see how Rachel is more suited for him than you ever were.”
Great. Just great. Rachel and Jake, the perfect couple, coming to witness my humiliation. No one seems to remember how happy Jake was with me or that he took me to look for engagement rings in February. My left-hand ring finger justmight remain bare forever. It hurts because I believed I’d finally found the love and acceptance I wanted with Jake.
My vision blurs, and I blink the tears away before I turn to Mr. Barrington. “I’m so sorry about this. Go ahead and leave. I’ll explain everything to my parents.”
He winks at me. “And miss out on your mom’s hot cocoa? Not a chance.” He leans in, whispering, “Besides, we need to clear up this misunderstanding. I won’t make you do that on your own.”
“Thank you.” Maybe he’s not the worst boss in the world after all.
