Chapter 35 #2
Her words wrap around me warmer than a heated blanket, emotions forming a knot in my throat, but they manage to draw a shaky chuckle from me. “Thanks for that visual.”
“Make fun of it all you want, I mean it. You’re my best friend. You caught me when my world was spiraling and put me back upright.”
“Please,” I scoff. “You did that all by yourself.”
“No, I didn’t.” She pulls me aside to let people pass by us.
“Yes, ultimately, I probably would have picked myself up. I would have had to. It would have taken me months though, if not years, and I’d probably still have the leeches that my family are, sucking me dry.
I don't regret cutting contact with them, because you being there for me taught me that I deserve better. Whatever you decide to do with your parents, I just wanted to remind you I’ll always be your family.
Because I think it takes repeating until it makes its way into your thick skull. ”
I stare at her, mouth agape and at a loss for words. She raises her hand, puts a finger under my chin to push it close.
“Thank you, Nic,” I finally whisper and take a shaky breath.
“I’ve been wrestling with the decision,” I confess, putting my hands in my pockets.
“My brain knows that continuing to allow them in my life will come with heartache, regrets and anxiety. But my heart…” I tap my hand against my chest. “Hasn’t given up all hope yet that it could get better. ”
“I don’t think the doubts will ever go away,” Nic says, her voice breaking.
“I still have them, too.” She clears her throat.
“For me,” she says, holding my teary gaze, “that doesn’t mean it has to be the same for you.
I’m only trying to give you a perspective on the other side.
I realized that holding on to the hope, that being the only one working hard to keeping that little candle flame of it alive, is ultimately more painful than extinguishing it. ”
I let her words sink in. Fuck. That metaphor makes surprisingly much sense.
Do I hope that my parents will one day wake up, decide to accept me as I am, and actually be interested in me? Yes.
But is it going to happen? Or is it a more likely scenario that I will spend the rest of my life not only burning myself out trying to please my mother, but now also by having to mediate between her and my father?
I let out a deep sigh that turns white in front of my face. The choice suddenly seems simple. Too simple for a cold winter afternoon on a Christmas market. But it’s time. It feels right to shake that weight off my shoulders. Right here. Right now.
“Let’s hope they won’t pull a Jay and turn up here,” I mutter and break into a teary chuckle.
“Well, your parents have money, even with the divorce. They don’t need yours,” Nic points out with a shrug. “But if they do, tell me. I regret not letting you throw a pumpkin at Jay. That could be our time to shine.”
“I doubt it would come to that. I never even told them where I moved,” I say absentmindedly, freezing fingertip sliding over my phone’s screen as I pull up my dad’s contact. There it is. A picture from when I was five years old, me sitting on his lap, a birthday cake in front of me.
Two more taps, and he’s blocked. I’m waiting for the sky to open up, a singular ray of sunshine falling on me like a spotlight as a choir of angels sings Hallelujah.
What happens is more profound. It’s the ability to breathe without worry obstructing my lungs. It’s anxiety rolling off my shoulders and the soft, nagging voice of self-doubt in the back of my head, shutting up for once.
“Oh, wow.”
“It feels freeing, doesn’t it?” Nic whispers, and I glance up at her, nodding. Before I can change my mind, I pull out my mom’s contact and do the same.
“One day they might realize what they’re missing and try to win you back,” she says and links her arm with mine again. “Please promise me to make them work for it.”
“Unlikely. But I promise,” I say with a nod and squeeze her arm. “Thank you, Nic.”
“You’re very welcome.”
We continue our stroll, past hand-woven wreaths from Courtney, wooden carved figures that Dimitri is selling, a bunch of sweets such as caramel apples and crêpes, waving at our boyfriends as we pass out booths.
Lastly, we reach the other end of the Christmas market right in the park’s center square. The same stage that got erected for the autumn fair is standing in the exact same spot, only this time decorated with pine garlands and snow instead of hay bales and pumpkins.
“What the hell is going on over there?” I ask, nodding toward the opposite end of the square, right where a giant Christmas tree is waiting for the grand lighting ceremony tomorrow. A crowd of people has gathered around it, excited murmurs echoing all the way to where we’re standing.
“I don’t know. Let’s find out.”
As we get closer, we realize they’re not, in fact, admiring the Christmas tree or something lying under it. They’re gathered around the hot drink stand to its left.
“Naughty List Shots?” Nic reads out amusedly, staring at the wooden sign above the stand.
We slip to the side of the crowd, trying to see what’s going on there. The number of people huddling is making me a little queasy, but curiosity wins.
“Your turn, beautiful!” we hear a loud voice shout, and our heads slowly turn to each other, amused grins tugging at our lips.
“Kieran?” we ask in disbelief, at the same time and slowly but determinedly make our way through the crowd.
We stop at what resembles a wooden bar.
I can’t believe my eyes. Kieran is standing behind the counter dressed in a Santa costume—thirst trap style, as I lovingly like to call it.
The red velvet top’s cleavage goes down to his belly button.
The fabric sits so tight over his muscles that you can see the top part of his six-pack, every movement makes me fear for his buttons.
His Santa hat is crooked, and I’m shocked he isn’t freezing out there.
He’s even wearing a long, luscious beard, twirling his fake mustache around his finger as he flirts with a woman I haven’t seen in Wayward Hollow before.
“I re-gifted a mug my ex gave me to my boss,” the woman confesses with a giggle, her face almost as red as Kieran’s costume.
“Oh, that’s naughty, indeed,” he drawls and puts a shot glass in front of her without breaking eye contact. “That’s savage. I love it. Drink this, and you might make it onto the Nice List. And if not, at least you’ll be drunker. Bottoms up.”
The woman giggles and throws back her head to down it. The crowd cheers when she puts the glass back on the counter and Kieran gives a satisfied nod as the woman slips a bill into his donation jar.
“Who’s next?”
His eyes search the crowd. When he spots Nic and me, he does a double take. His eyes widen slightly, then they narrow as his lips stretch into a grin under that synthetic, white moustache.
“Blondie!” He points right at me as he walks over to our side and taps the counter in front of him, motioning for the two of us to come closer. “I don’t even need to ask if you’ve been naughty. Come on, don’t be shy. Tell me what you did, and I might put you on the Nice List.”
“Oh, Santa!” I giggle way too high-pitched to be taken seriously. “I’ve been a naughty girl. I ate all the chocolates from my advent calendar on the first day of December,” I confess exaggeratedly dramatically.
Nic gasps dramatically next to me, and Kieran fights a grin. “Oh, I’m not sure that’s fixable. But you should absolutely try.” He slides a shot glass holding golden liquid toward me. “What about you, Blondie Two?”
“I spent more than we agreed on for my boyfriend’s present.”
Now it’s my turn for a theatrical gasp.
“Meh.” Kieran waves her off. “How tame. I’ll see who I can kick off the Nice List and find some space for you on there. But first, bottoms up, ladies.”
He slides another shot glass toward her.
We pick them up with fingers trembling from the cold, clink them together while holding eye contact, then knock back the shot.
Ugh. Fireball. The alcohol burns its way down my throat, but it’s a welcome heat.
“I have so many questions,” I croak, voice hoarse from the alcohol, only loud enough that Kieran and Nic can hear me.
“Well- ” He leans over the counter. “They’ll have to wait. I’m a little busy.” He points to the surrounding crowd. A grin threatens to split his face in half. “I told you two I’d get payback when you least expect it.”
He pulls back again and calls over the girl working with him behind the bar. “Could you be a darling and get them some mulled wine? For your boyfriends too?” he raises his eyebrow at us. Both Nic and I ask him for non-alcoholic punch, since one of us will still have to drive home later.
“Did he hire people to run the stand for him?” Nic wonders, accepting the first mug of steaming hot mulled wine. “I don’t think I’ve seen her here before.”
We watch Kieran pick out another victim; the crowd cheering when, this time a guy, drinks his shot.
“He’s going to win this fucking thing, isn’t he?” I ask and let out a sigh, the corner of my mouth twitching. I want to be annoyed, but I’m more amused than anything.
Nic shakes her head, giggling. “He absolutely will.”