I hold up my hands in defence.“Sorry, sorry.It’s relief, I swear.I was having flashbacks to—”
“Don’tsay it,” she pleads, slicing a hand through the air between us.“This night has been mortifying enough.”
I press my lips together and bob my head.The year we met, Abby, Brodie, Drew, and I spent Christmas together.Abby and Drew have no family, and Brodie didn’t want to be apart from Drew for a week or more to return to Scotland, so I decided to stay too.The girls had complicated feelings about the holiday, so they planned to let it pass without much fanfare, especially after Fern left town for two weeks to spend Christmas with the woman she was seeing at the time.
Brodie and I had other ideas, though.Having grown up in a loving, tight-knit family that went all out for holidays, we were determined to give the girls the best Christmas ever.We bought and decorated trees at both their place and mine, went ice skating, visited Christmas markets, and attended various events around the city.On Christmas Eve, Brodie and I made a huge dinner, and we all had a bit too much spiked eggnog.
The others went to bed early, but I was wide awake, so I stretched out on the couch and watched the snow fall outside.When I heard movement in the kitchen and went to investigate, I found Abby getting herself a glass of water.As I moved closer, I could see how pale she was.I was about to announce myself so I didn’t startle her when she spun around, murmured, “Oh, shit,” and vomited at my feet.
I rushed her to the bathroom and held her hair back while she emptied the contents of her stomach.She begged me to leave, but I stayed, rubbing her back and murmuring soothing words, and then getting her a cool washcloth for her face.She seemed to reach peak embarrassment when I stepped into the tub to wash my feet.
“Best of friends, remember?”I’d said.“Nothing bonds two people like a little vomit.”
She’d laughed and groaned simultaneously.When she was certain she was finished being sick, I offered to get her back to bed, but she asked if we could sit in the living room for a while.After cleaning the kitchen floor, I brought her a glass of ginger ale, and she surprised me by snuggling into my side.
“I haven’t had a proper Christmas since my grandma was alive.”Her voice was rough and barely above a whisper.“It’s not like Christmas in foster care was a scene from a Dickensian orphanage or anything, but the holidays always reminded me of all I’d lost and how alone I felt.This last week with the three of you...”Her breath hitched, and she curled further into me.“It’s been magical.But tonight, it all caught up to me, and I drank too much because I wasfeelingtoo much.Is it possible to be overwhelmed in a good way?”
“Aye, it is.I know just what you mean.”And I did because I was feeling it right then with her warm, soft body pressed against me.
I’m brought back to the present by the sound of Abby’s stomach grumbling again.
“Would you believe thatafterTripp broke up with me, he asked if I wanted to stay and eat with him?”Abby says.“His exact words were, ‘How about one last dinner and then one last night together?’”
I make an indignant sound as that filmy red coats my vision once more.I keep my mouth clamped shut since I don’t know how she’d feel about me bad-mouthing Tripp.I can’t imagine she’d get back together with him after what happened tonight, but if she did, I wouldn’t want things to be weird between us because I’d slagged him off.
“He was paying, so I was tempted to order the most expensive things on the menu,” she says.“Appetizer, main course, dessert.Fancy cocktails I’d tell the waitress to keep bringing the second I finished one.But the thought of sitting there with him zapped my appetite.”
“And now it’s back with a vengeance?”I ask, motioning toward her stomach.
“Apparently.I ate lunch early because I was so excited about trying a new restaurant, and wanted to be good and hungry when the time came.”She lets out a wistful sigh.Her eyes grow hazy, and I wonder if she’s thinking about the numpty who broke up with her or the meal she missed out on.The girl does love to eat; it’s one of the things I’ve always liked most about her.
“Do you want me to call Drew and see if she’s free to come meet you?”I ask.
“She and Brodie are in Ottawa for a few days on a romantic getaway,” she says.
Shit, I’d forgotten.Brodie spends more time at the girls’ place than he does at ours, so it’s not unusual to go days without seeing him.We keep in touch daily via texts and phone calls, but seeing Abby in distress has messed with my head.
“And Fern is away with Alejandro, isn’t she?”I say.“Well, I guess you’re stuck with me then.”
There’s that half smile again.“You’re the best, but I’d be shitty company.I’ve already cried on you, whined at you, and made you think I was going to barf on you.”She rubs a spot on my jacket, and I drop my gaze to see a wet blotch on the shoulder.
“That’s what friends are for,” I say.“Why don’t we grab some dinner and head back to your place?We can talk or sit in silence.Watch a movie or blast some music.Whatever you like.And, hell, if you really want to be alone, at least let me buy you dinner and walk you home.That way, at least I’ll know you’ve eaten more than instant noodles or whatever rubbish you’d have for dinner when you’re at home alone.”
I expect her to laugh—Iwanther to laugh, want to see the light return to her eyes, and that tiny dimple in her right cheek—but she only studies me with a serious, unreadable expression.For a moment, I wonder if my mask has slipped and my feelings are painted across my face.It wouldn’t be the first time.There have even been instances where she’s looked at me with whatseemsto be more than friendly interest, although that might be wishful thinking on my part.
“Can we go to your place instead?”she asks.“And maybe order pizza or something when we get there?These boots are pinching my toes, and I’m dying to take them off.”
“Sure, we can go to mine.Want me to give you a collie bucky?”
Now she does laugh, and the sound is better than all of my favourite songs combined.Who knew all it would take was using one of the many Scottish terms for what she knows as a piggyback.“I don’t think I’m quite at that stage, but I reserve the right to change my mind once we start walking.”
* * *
“Maybe we should havegone back to my place after all.I’m desperate to get out of these clothes.”
Abby’s statement sends my mind straight into the gutter.I always do my best to avoid sexualizing her, but I’m only human.A twenty-five-year-old male of the species at that.One who happens to be hopelessly, irrevocably in love with his best friend.
“You can wear something of mine,” I tell her, aiming the remote at the TV so I don’t have to look at her.“Anything you like.Help yourself.”
