Genna’s eyebrows shoot up. “And you actuallywantedto marry him?”
“I wanted ... to not be alone,” I whisper, finally looking up at her. “I wanted someone to choose me, for once.”
Her face softens, and she reaches for my hand. “Chey, you’re not alone. You have me, you have my family, you have—”
“It’s not the same,” I cut her off. “You know it’s not.”
She sighs. “I know. But marrying the wrong person because you’re afraid of being alone? That’s a recipe for a lifetime of misery.”
I don’t have an answer to that.
Because deep down ... I know she’s right.
Suddenly, Genna stands up, her movement startling Jhett, who lets out a small whine in protest. “That’s it. We’re not doing this anymore.”
“Doing what?”
“This.” She gestures toward the mess and then to me. “The wallowing. The self-doubt. You’re literally letting Garrett win by believing his stupid lies.”
I blink at her, confused. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m notsuggestinganything. I’m telling you we’re changing the mood around here.” She swiftly charges toward the hallway,disappearing into the storage closet. I hear thumping and rustling, followed by an “Aha!”
When she reappears, she’s dragging a large plastic bin labeled “CHRISTMAS” scrawled in her own messy handwriting.
“What are you doing?”
“Weare decorating,” she announces, dropping the bin in the middle of the living room floor. “Thanksgiving is officially over, which means it’s Christmas season, which means we need twinkle lights and tinsel and all the things.”
“Genna...”
She pops open the lid of the bin, revealing a tangle of lights and decor. “We’re about to deck these halls so hard that Santa himself will get jealous.”
Despite myself, I feel the corner of my mouth twitch upward. “That’s not how the song goes.”
“It does in the Williamston-Blackwell household.” She pulls out a string of garland wrapped in lights. “Now, are you gonna help me, or am I doing this alone?”
I hesitate, still hiding in my blanket cocoon. Part of me wants to stay exactly where I am. To continue wallowing in my misery. But there’s something about Genna’s determination, about the way she’s refusing to let me sink into it any further, that makes me slowly unwrap myself from the blanket.
I sigh. “Fine.”
“Good. Now come help me with this. I can’t reach the topof the doorframe.”
I drag myself off the couch and take the fluffy green garland from her. My movements are sluggish at first, but as I stretch to secure it above the doorway, I feel something loosen slightly in my chest.
“Remember that year we decorated our dorm room with so many lights, we blew a fuse?” Genna asks, opening the second bin of decorations.
“The whole floor was mad at us,” I recall.
“Worth it though.” She grins. “Where’s the box with your Christmas tree? I don’t see it anywhere.”
“Oh, I got rid of it last year. It was falling apart.”
Genna pauses, then turns to me with a mischievous smile. “Well, that’s convenient.”
“Why?”
“Because now we have a perfect excuse to go get a real tree!” She beams. “You’ve always wanted one, right?”
