“I know you’re all eager to sing with Santa.” Foster paused and looked at the guy. “Nice beard, by the way.”
“It itches,” Santa mumbled under his breath.
Foster continued, “You don’t know me, but I’ve known one of you for almost a year now, and I’ve fallen in love with her.”
“Aww,” chorus through the crowd.
“I’m so in love with her that I wanted to share this moment with the town that made Lauren the woman she is today.” He got down on one knee and opened the ring box. Someone gasped. “Lauren Hill, will you marry me?”
Lauren stared into his flat blue eyes and shook her head. Words didn’t form. The carefully scripted speech she’d prepared had evaporated.
His haughty expression faltered.
She drew herself up and yanked her hand from his grasp. The movement triggered her brain to start up again. “I won’t marry you, Foster,” she said loud enough for the people standing in the back to hear. “Because you’re a lying, cheating, no-good fake who spent the day talking to his mistress instead of spending it with me and my family. I deserve better than you.” She turned on her heel and flounced off the stage just as she’d imagined herself doing over and over again throughout the day.
The crowd parted for her. Instead of the high fives and fist bumps she’d expected, they looked at her with pity and sadness. This part of her plan was less clear. She wasn’t exactly sure where she was walking. Should she go home or join her family?
The wave of triumph dissipated. She’d planned on people clapping as she left, cheering her on. Instead, there was silence. Awkward silence.
At the back of the crowd, her mom motioned for her. She went in that direction, grateful for a safe landing spot. She went in for a hug, only to find Mom’s arms stiff.
“Hustle home now.” Mom nudged her in that direction.
Lauren felt her disappointment like an arrow to the stomach. “Mom?”
“I’m sorry about your heartbreak, honey.” Mom touched her cheek. “You’re right, you deserve better. I love you.”
Lauren felt a little better but still not quite right. Christmas dinner churned in her belly as she trudged home alone. The sing-along started, the happy chorus far away and quiet. She was an outsider in her hometown.
The fairy lights on the houses mocked her with their cheer. She sniffed several times, mortified by the tears burning her eyes.
She should feel happy. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted.
An hour later, there was a soft knock on her bedroom door. “Lauren? Honey?” Mom called.
“I’m not feeling well,” she called from the bed where she’d curled into a ball and cried.
“Foster’s gone,” Mom hedged. “Is it true? Was he cheating on you?”
Lauren heaved herself to a sitting. “Yeah. I found out today.” Well–technically yesterday, but since every day was the same, it was today, right?
“I’m sorry. I know you liked him a lot.”
Did she? Because the fact that he was gone didn’t upset her all that much. There was more of a sense of lightness. Like she’d shed ten unwanted pounds right before swimsuit season. Lauren flopped back down. “Thanks.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. But thank you for offering. I always know I can count on you, Mom.” Which was true.
“‘Night, hon.” After a moment, Mom shuffled away from the door.
The shock from yesterday was long gone. The triumph from telling Foster off and humiliating him had worn off. What was left was a lot of truth, and it wasn’t all pretty.
Lauren had had a broken heart before, and this didn’t feel anything like that. This was surface-y–more about feeling stupid for being tricked than something deep inside being broken and torn. She’d liked Foster and the jet-set lifestyle he provided much more than she’d like Foster himself. She’d felt important and pretty in her cocktail dresses and shiny hair.
The lifestyle wore on her at times. There were nights that she’d wanted to kick off the three-inch heels, put on fuzzy pajamas, and snuggle on the couch. Foster never did that. Never. If they weren’t out on the town, there was no point being together.
Dragging the blanket her grandmother crocheted for her when she was seventeen over to the window seat, she settled in and stared out. She could see the snowman in the Morris’s yard from this angle. The night sky was inky dark, and the stars were out. In their mountain town, the stars were always visible on clear nights. It was one of the things she’d missed when she moved away.
