Chapter 30
I GET CAUGHT UP IN THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT
Something you ponder late at night?
Bridget: How to be a good example for my nieces. I want to show them what they can achieve if they try hard.
Cole: It’s the details, the variables, that keep me up. Usually, how I can ensure none of them fuck up my plans.
brIDGET
It was ten days until Christmas, and I hadn’t bought a single gift. So when Denise texted insisting that I prove I was still alive by going to the mall with my sisters, I hauled myself out to San Ramon with the goals of buying my parents a present and not cracking under my sisters’ interrogation.
“There she is,” Denise said, standing from the table outside the café to hug me.
I relaxed into her embrace. I hadn’t been touched for four days, since Friday night at Cole’s, when he’d given me that hand massage that I thought—hoped even, despite what we’d agreed—might turn into more. But this was better.
Until she whacked the back of my head.
“Ow! What was that for?” I stepped out of swinging range.
“That’s for not coming around since you almost died on that trip.” She scowled at me.
“She didn’t almost die,” Megan said. “Did you?”
“No.” I hugged Megan. “I only lost my passport. I did fall into a river, but Co—a coworker pulled me out.”
“Did you check for parasites? Any rashes or diarrhea?” Megan had gone into nurse mode. “A stutter could be a symptom of a brain injury. Did you hit your head?”
“No. Jesus.” I brushed off her hands. “I’m fine.” Turning to Trish, I said, “How are you? Your hair looks fabulous.”
“She’s better since she left that piece of shit,” Denise said.
“Her bloodwork was great at her checkup,” Megan added. “Ciara and I got to hear the baby’s heartbeat.”
So she had told the rest of the family. Though her secret, unlike mine, would become obvious in a few weeks.
“Where’s Ciara?” I scanned the patio for our youngest sister.
“She had to work,” Trish said.
“Oh, she gets a pass, but I was threatened with violence if I didn’t show?” I folded my arms.
“She’s a paramedic.” Denise rolled her eyes. “She’s saving lives. You’re just making more money for The Man.”
“Ouch.” That hurt more than the smack she’d given me. “We employ ten thousand people across eight offices worldwide. We support—”
“Blah blah blah,” Denise said. “We all know how important you are. And how soulless that company is.”
“Don’t say that, Mom,” Ashlyn said from behind me. “Aunt Bridget is awesome.”
I whirled around to gather my niece into my arms. “Where did you come from?”
“Mom sent me to get ice cream so they could talk about grown-up things,” she said. “I missed you.”
I wiped a smudge of chocolate from her chin. “I missed you too. I hope I can make it to your choir concert next week.”
“Me too. But I don’t have a solo or anything.” She ducked her head.
“That’s okay. Singing with the group is fun too.”
“Mom said you were the top soloist.”
“Bridget always had to be the star,” Megan said. “Still does.”
“I…” I closed my mouth. “You don’t have to be like me.”
“I want to, Aunt Bridget.” She put her small hand in mine. “I want to be a star too.”
I squeezed her hand. “Then decide what you want and go for it. If you work hard—”
“Very, very hard,” Trish said.
“To the bone,” Megan added.
“And give up everything else, including family,” Denise said.
I scowled at my sisters, then smiled at my niece. “You’ll succeed. I know it.” And I’d do everything in my power to help her.
“What are we getting Mom and Dad?” Trish asked.
“Something from the kitchen store?” Denise suggested.
“Her mixer has seen better days,” Megan said.
“What about Dad?” I asked.
“He’s been talking about getting a smoker. The Wangs have one, and he’s super jealous,” Trish said.
“Like one of those round green ones?” I asked. Stan talked about his nonstop.
“Oh, no. Those are so expensive,” Denise said.
“I’ll get it,” I said. “You three go in together for the mixer, and both gifts will be from all of us.”
Denise looked like she wanted to argue, but Megan and Trish agreed so quickly that she would’ve been outvoted. As we walked toward the kitchen store, I could tell Denise was irritated. That’s why it shouldn’t have caught me off guard when she said, “Are you bringing a date to my New Year’s party?”
“I…” I should’ve said, I’ll think about it or I don’t know or a dozen other noncommittal things, but nothing occupied my brain but Cole’s face with his rare smile and his low voice as he read one of Ashlyn’s favorite books to his daughter. “Yes,” I said.
She stopped abruptly on the busy sidewalk. “Who?”
“No,” I said. “I meant no.” I couldn’t bring Cole to a family event.
First, he’d never come to a party with silly hats and plastic sunglasses with the year on them and the cheapest sparkling wine you could buy in bulk.
Second, my family would never buy that I’d bring Cole Campion, whose name was always echoed with a hiss, as a friend.
She narrowed her eyes. “You said yes.”
“It was a mistake. I got caught up in the Christmas spirit.” I waved weakly at a tinsel bell shape hanging on a nearby lamppost.
“Who are you seeing, Bridget?” She planted her hands on her hips.
“No one,” I said, glad I didn’t have to lie.
Her blue eyes searched mine.
“What’s going on?” Megan asked. She, Trish, and Ashlyn had doubled back for us. Shoppers grumbled and scowled as they squeezed past our group standing on the sidewalk like a boulder in a stream.
“Bridget has a secret.” Denise’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “It’s about someone she’s dating.”
“No, it’s not.” Too quick. I winced.
“Aha! Knew it!” Denise crowed. “Who are you secretly seeing?”
The secrets crouched on my tongue, ready to leap out of my mouth and ease the burden that weighed on my heart.
But I couldn’t tell my sisters about the magical days Cole and I had spent in Costa Rica or the decision we’d—I’d—made to end it.
Especially not with my impressionable, admiring niece as a witness. “I swear to God, Dee. No one.”
She stared at me for another few seconds like the pressure of her eyeballs could squeeze the secret out of me. “Fine. Earmuffs.”
Megan, who was closest, placed her hands over Ashlyn’s ears.
“I’ll invite some single people to the party. You”—she pointed an accusatory finger at me—“really need to get laid.”
I had to bite my tongue to keep the secret in. She was a hundred percent right. I did need to get laid, preferably with someone who wasn’t my co-CEO.