Chapter 7 Misty #2
I slump against the wall in the dim storage room. “I’m not going to pass out. Mom needs me to decorate.”
Cocoa, who has been lurking around the rookies as they play video games, hoping they spill their salt-and-vinegar popcorn—my own recipe that uses avocado oil instead of butter—pokes her head into the storage room, sees that I am on the brink of an epic nervous breakdown, and decides it’s not her business.
And to think that over Thanksgiving I was wondering if it would be worth the drama and fallout to just buy a house and some online anonymous sperm to create the family of my dreams.
This is a thousand times worse.
“I’m just going to calmly ask for a refund,” I tell myself. “Very calmly.” I type Talbot’s number—the wrong number.
“This number has been disconnected.”
Now I’m freaking out. It’s gone. My money is well and truly gone.
“I’m a failure,” I sob into my apron. “Everyone’s right. I am a dummy, and I don’t belong in this family.”
“Misty!” My mom calls from upstairs.
I drag myself upright and wipe away the tears.
“I got scammed. People get scammed, sure, mainly the elderly, but it’s a lesson learned. Nowhere to go but up. New Year’s? We’re making all the resolutions and getting our life on track.”
“Oh, Misty, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Mom wraps her arm around my waist, and we stand there like mother and daughter, like best friends.
The house looks beautiful. Mom tried to decorate the mantel herself, and I discreetly redid it.
Cocoa is wearing her new sweater that I just finished. The younger two kids are racing around, high on sugar. Jaxon and Caleb are trying to bribe Cocoa into letting them tie a bow around her neck. Even Lucy has managed to put down the phone long enough to engage in conversation with Sienna’s mom.
The current and former Harbor Hawks players mill around, laughing and joking and retelling old stories. They’re chirping the rookies and teasing Mason, my oldest half brother, about being coached by dear old dad.
All is right in the world: Austen’s still alive. I’m pining for him from afar like I did when we were kids. I’m back exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Stuck.
Not stuck. I’m helpful.
And broke.
I snag a cup of punch and gulp it down. It’s very boozy punch. “I need to dilute that. I think Granny Keagan got to it,” I gasp to Mom and grab the punch bowl to ferry it back to the kitchen. “I have another punch bowl here somewhere.” I rummage around in the butler’s pantry.
“So, you got rid of him.”
“Austen.” I almost fall off the counter, extra punch bowl clutched in my arms.
He grabs my arms. For a hockey player, his hands are weirdly soft. Am I just now noticing that? Maybe because Talbot’s were so calloused, what with all that strangling and climbing up buildings.
“That’s what Coach Ryan said, that he ran off. Asshole.”
“I thought you liked him. You guys partied all night.”
Austen scowls. “He was just after the girls. Typical hanger-on. Probably wished he’d made it to the NHL but his dad couldn’t afford to buy him the right skates or send him to camp and he wishes he were us.” My ex’s mouth turns down.
“He didn’t actually like you, you know. It’s good you saw through that. He just wanted access to us players. He wasn’t attracted to you at all.”
The words are said dismissively.
“Well, he’s gone, so…” My words sound small in the narrow butler’s pantry. “I’ve emailed the Gatorade people. One of the girls I used to play hockey with works in their marketing department.”
“Mousy Misty.” He claps my shoulder. “You always come through for me, don’t you.”
“Always.” I try to release my grip on the bowl.
“I care about you,” Austen adds before he leaves the butler’s pantry. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Misty. You need to be careful about the company you keep.”
Austen says he cares about me! The warmth floods me. I daydream about him dumping Brielle and begging me to take him back while I water down the punch, mixing in more seltzer and cranberry juice so it tastes more like Christmastime and less like kerosene.
The happy sounds of the rich and comfortable filter in through the open door.
In waddles Cocoa, the big plaid bow around her neck dragging on the ground and what looks like a big meaty turkey leg bone in her mouth. The corgi sees me. Her eyes widen and her ears flick back, and she increases her waddle.
“No! Who gave that to you? You give that to me right now, young lady.” I chase her into the pantry.
“You ready for me to kill that asshole yet?”
Before the scream can leave my throat, Talbot’s got his arm wrapped around my neck, hand clasped tightly over my mouth.
“While it’s more fun if they scream, I don’t really need an audience.” The stubble on his chin is rough against my cheek.
“Now, I know you hired me to be your fake boyfriend, and believe me, I do appreciate the irony of this situation.” He slams me against the wall. Jars of flour and grains rattle above me, and my breath whooshes out of me. “But, Gumdrop, we need to talk.”
“Oh my gosh—” I gasp. “Are you here to kill me?”
“Well, I’m certainly not here to fuck you.”
“I told you to stay away from Austen.”
He pins me to the counter with his hip and turns and reaches down. “He gave my sweet little furry girl a poultry bone.” He picks up Cocoa like a baby and gently pries the bone out of her mouth. “It could hurt her.” He waves the drool-encrusted turkey leg in my face.
“Austen would never.” I glare up at Talbot.
“Did Mommy’s mean ex give you that?” he coos to the panting dog. She licks his face then glares at me for daring to intrude on their special hugging time. “I saw him through the window. Say the word, Gumdrop, and he’s dead. Hitman’s honor.”
“Like I’m going to trust the word of a murderer.”
I wriggle against him, trying to push him off. He shoves me back against the counter, an unmovable fortress of thick muscle and leather.
“I told you just keep the money and leave me alone.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Gumdrop. No loose ends. Believe me, I asked. The contract needs to be closed. And I’m supposed to be in Colorado snowboarding right now. You’re fucking with my Christmas R & R because you’re an indecisive female.”
“There’s nothing to decide.”
Talbot pushes off of me and heads to the kitchen.
“Don’t go out there.” I race after him. “I told my family we broke up.”
“Already lying about our fake relationship? What’s GrandPam going to think?”
“What? You can’t call her that.”
“Granny Keagan said I could. We’re tight.” He sets Cocoa down gently on the floor. She glues herself to his combat boot.
“No, you’re not. Stay away from my family.”
“You let me off Austen, and I’m gone, out of your life like Santa Claus up a chimney.” He leans back against the kitchen island, arching his back.
Cocoa barks, sits on his boots, and drools up at him.
I hear voices coming down the hall. They’re getting closer. I try to drag him away from the island. It’s like trying to push granite.
He scoops up a cup of the punch, takes a swig, and smacks his lips.
“Needs more booze.” He gestures with the ladle. “I thought you wanted to be your stepdaddy’s housewife. Don’t scrimp on the alcohol. That’s hostessing 101. Cocoa, what do you think? Misty, feed this poor dog.”
“Cocoa, stay away from him.”
Talbot smirks and blows the dog a kiss.
She gazes up at him adoringly.
“You can end this tonight.” He bops me on the nose with the ladle. “What’s Austen allergic to? Please say shellfish. EpiPens are fifty-fifty on those allergies. I can be on the slopes by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Austen only has a mild banana allergy—mild.”
“How’d you figure that one out? Don’t tell me banana-flavored condoms either.” Talbot opens the fridge and fishes out one of the mini Christmas parfaits.
“Those are for guests.”
He holds it up high as I swing on his arm, trying to wrestle it from him. I need to get rid of him. Now.
“Will you leave if I make you a snack to go?”
“Does the picnic basket include Hershey’s-peanut-butter-kiss cookies and Austen’s head?” he hisses, twisting my arm.
“I knew you were just pulling one over on Spamalot,” Granny Keagan crows from the doorway. “I saw that look in your eye. Once you have the D, you’re not going back.”
“Why can’t people let me cook in the kitchen in peace?”
“My granddaughter was so good that you decided to be her hookup for free, eh?” Granny Keagan hoists up her boobs. “She gets that from me.”
Talbot’s mouth parts slightly.
“Don’t worry, sonny, I know all the deets.
I’m the one who told her to hire you in the first place.
Misty unwrapped your package, and now you’re back for the twelve days of Christmas!
” Granny Keagan tastes the punch and smacks her lips.
“Hmm, I guess I didn’t add enough alcohol.
You’re so hot it must be burning off all the liquor. ”
“Agreed. I feel like alcohol’s not as strong as it used to be.” Talbot twists the seal off a bottle of rum and glugs it in.
“That’s what I’ve been saying! It’s a vast conspiracy!” the elderly woman rails.
“And the prices just keep going up.” Talbot picks up the heavy tureen of punch and heads back into the party.
I’m panicking as Cocoa and I race after the back of his worn leather jacket.
Grandma Pam is right. I am the problem.
Ryan has gone above and beyond for me and my mom.
Ryan let us move into his house. He pays for stuff.
And even when he had real children, he didn’t try to have me sent off to boarding school or back to my birth dad’s.
He included us in family days at the hockey rink and made sure the rest of the Harbor Hawks treated us well.
And this is how I repay him? By inviting a hitman into his home around my siblings?
“Please, Talbot,” I pant, “just wait, please.”
It’s too late.
“You lied to us!” Austen thunders when he sees me.
Sienna’s eyes bug out.
“You said you broke up with him,” my mom demands.