“I guess.”
“But wasn’t it sweet of Matt to take the blame for you? That’s how you know he’s a keeper!” She pressed a plate with cheese straws, pigs in a blanket, and pretzel bites with spicy cheese sauce and mustard sauce into my hands.
“Have some Christmas punch, too,” she insisted.
I took a sip, and my hair stood on end.
“What’s in this?” I wheezed.
“Has it gotten too watery?” Aunt Bettina cried. She reached under the table, pulled out a bottle of vodka, and poured it into the punch bowl.
I winced. “Don’t you want to add some more juice?”
“Juice?” she said in horror. “I’m not putting juice in a Christmas punch. This is alcohol, alcohol, more alcohol, and some fruits preserved in alcohol. And of course, ice because I don’t care what men say—I need my whisky to be chilled.”
I wandered back through the house. My grandmother had invited half the town to her Christmas party, and many of the partygoers spilled out into the yard, where a bonfire was going. I found a bottle of cranberry juice by the s’mores station and diluted the toxic punch.
I ate my snack and looked around the party. People were laughing and having a good time. Meanwhile, all I wanted to do was curl up in bed until Christmas was over.
You don’t know, I told myself.You don’t know for sure. Maybe Olivia is mistaken. Maybe she misheard. She’s been staying up late to help you bake and living in her car. She’s probably not running at full capacity. You need to just ask Matt flat out like an adult.
But when had I ever acted like an adult? I had opened a Christmas tree ornament shop in a small town to live out my childhood Christmas fantasies. I was as far from an adult as you could get.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through all the messages Matt had sent me.
I’d rather avoid it. I didn’t want to hear him admit that it was true, that he was done with me, that he and Hensley were getting back together, that I wasn’t going to have a Christmas happily ever after.
I wasn’t willing to let go of my holiday romance dreams just yet. I would rather live in a gingerbread house of denial with party snacks and cocktails.
I saw my father in the crowd. Bettina was his aunt; of course, he was here. He had my little half sister strapped to his chest.
I stuffed another pig in a blanket in my mouth and chewed.
Maybe I should just leave.
My father made eye contact with me across the yard then quickly looked away. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being able to avoid his oldest daughter, I drank half my cup of punch and dragged myself over to where he was chatting with Bettina’s neighbor.
“Hey Dad,” I said, the alcohol taking the edge off some of the awkwardness. Actually, the alcohol was taking the edge off a lot of things—it was pretty strong.
Exactly what I need right now.
I took another sip.
“Meredith.” My father frowned. “Your mother’s not coming, is she?”
“I can’t believe my cheating ex-husband showed up today!” my mother’s voice rang out over the crowd from the porch. “Some people really have no shame.”
I cringed and took another sip of punch.
“How long are we staying?” Tatiana whined from behind my father. “I can’t believe you made me come to this stupid party when we have Christmas at the—oh, Merrie.”
My father stroked my baby sister’s head. “I think we’re going to head out,” he told me.
Tatiana scowled at me. “Where’s your billionaire boyfriend that you tried to steal from my best friend?”
“At work,” I said defensively.
Tatiana smirked. “Are you sure, or is he with his fiancée?”
