Chapter 11 Misty
MISTY
Nothing like a near-death experience to remind you what really matters. Austen and I are meant to be together. Everyone is wrong. It’s not his fault he was cheating on me; it’s Brielle’s.
I need to get rid of Talbot. For a second, I thought him pretending to be my boyfriend would be a blessing in disguise because I could win Austen back. But I can’t let Austen get hurt. I just can’t.
The little sprig from the Christmas tree is a bright shock of green against the paper. Using a red thread, I carefully attach the sprig to the cream-colored cardstock, on which I carefully write the date and location in calligraphy.
A symbol of our undying love.
Am I delusional?
I pull out the box from under my bed.
It’s been in this same spot since I was a girl and had just moved into the cramped attic bedroom.
Brielle didn’t want me to be next door to her since she didn’t want to share the Jack and Jill bathroom.
And GrandPam—God, I really need to stop saying that—and Aunt Kathy didn’t want to give up the guest rooms that they were used to staying in when they came to visit Ryan.
Not to mention Mason, the new baby, was going to need the other bedroom, and oh, we had to keep some as guest rooms for when the hockey players stayed over, and Ryan was going to take in new rookie players, and the basement wasn’t finished yet.
.. couldn’t have those boys unsupervised up in the attic.
Even if it is ever-so-slightly drafty, I like it. It’s cozy, and there’s a tree outside the window. I always imagined my prince charming would climb up to rescue me from my tower.
And that prince is Austen.
The box smells like him. I found the exact cologne he likes to wear. No, it’s not exactly the scent I would prefer, but it’s the cologne from his first sponsor, and I appreciate brand loyalty.
I inhale.
Nothing like that gunpowder whiskey smell of Talbot.
I lay the little card on top of all the collectibles from my relationship with Austen.
The pebble that got caught in my sandal when he saw me trip and fall getting out of the car the first time I saw him.
The hockey puck from his first game I went to.
My name is misspelled on it, sure, but it’s the thought behind it.
Normally, sorting through my I love Austen box calms me down, but I can’t stop thinking about how I almost lost him when the tree fell down, my nose in his hair as I shoved him out of the way.
I wish it had been different, wish Austen had been the one to save me, been the one to realize how meaningless his life is without me.
“I thought you’d gotten rid of that box!” Sienna comes barreling into my room. “We burned that box. I saw you burn it.”
“I made a decoy,” I cry, trying to block her from it.
“You better not still have all your spank-bank photos.” Sienna tackles me.
“Don’t call them that. They’re works of art!” I shriek as Sienna yells at me.
“I’m going to burn those things, I swear to god, Misty.”
“No! They’re all I have.”
“Your grandmother bought you a subscription to that fancy ethical porn website.”
Yeah, imagine opening that up on the Christmas morning after being dumped at the altar.
“I can’t believe this. Where is Talbot? Tell him to have at Austen. You have to get that man out of your life. You need to move out of your parents’ house and stop giving him free stuff. Wait a minute.” Sienna glares at me.
“You’re not sleeping with him, are you? Not that Brielle doesn’t deserve to be cheated on, but like, have just a shred of self-respect.”
“No.” I wish.
Sienna grumbles as I sort through my I love Austen box.
“How can I not want him? He’s a handsome NHL captain.”
“He’s generically handsome, yes, but he’s like a sex doll you buy off Instagram, and it shows up and you realize you got duped by an AI image and made an ill-advised, cheap-wine-fueled purchase.
Then he shows up at your door, and now that sex doll is walking around and leaking fluids all over your couch. ”
“Gross, also oddly specific.”
“Talbot, though? That man looks like he can fuck. That scar on his jaw? Those eyes? The way his hair curls over his forehead? That speech he made at the house party the other night? Swoon.”
“No. No swoon. Talbot is bad. Bad news. He’s dangerous. Literally. Not like a bad boy—he’s a bad man. Also, he hates me. He doesn’t think I’m…” I flounder. “He doesn’t think I’m attractive. At all. He told me so.”
Sienna’s not convinced. “Cocoa likes him.”
“Cocoa likes to eat out of my trash can.”
“No one’s telling you to date him, but a little sex? You know, replenish the spank bank? So you’re not rubbing one out thinking about Austen.”
“I’m saving myself for him.”
“You know, your granny wanted to take us all to a strip club. I thought that was a terrible idea, but now I’m up for anything that scrubs Austen and his greasy hair out of your life.
Including Talbot. You have decent tits. They’re real.
Talbot looks like an ass man anyway, and you have the hockey-girl ass. Ride him like a reindeer.”
“I never should have gotten involved with Talbot.” I bury my head in my hands. “Trying to make Austen jealous was a terrible idea. I need to stick with my tried-and-true method of trying to win back Austen. Acts of service.”
“Oh, so this is like a formal plan now, okay. Um, just checking in, but you’re not trying to do that intermittent-fasting thing anymore, are you? Because that made you a little cuckoo. You’re definitely a breakfast girlie.”
“Why didn’t you answer your phone? I was trying to call you.” Austen stands in the doorframe.
I strangle a shriek and shove the love box under my bed then kick it for good measure.
“Brielle not putting out?” Sienna asks him, tapping her foot.
I know that if her dad wasn’t the assistant coach and co-owner of the Boston Harbor Hawks with Ryan, he’d probably push back on her.
Instead, he ignores her and takes my hand. My heart pitter-patters.
“Misty.” He says my name with so much emotion.
Did it work? Did fake dating the hitman I accidentally hired cause my ex to remember that I am his one true love?
“I can’t stop thinking about this morning. I can’t keep living like this anymore. I can’t keep waiting. I’m sorry to ask you this, but—”
“Yes!” I blurt out before he can propose marriage. Again.
Austen looks confused.
My bestie looks like she needs a strong drink and a therapist.
“You already knew? You know me so well,” he murmurs.
“Of course I do,” I breathe, the love for him coursing through me. Sure, that shifty hitman thinks I’m delusional, but Talbot doesn’t know Austen like I do.
“So,” Austen says, “I was thinking for the wedding, your stepsister—”
“I, uh, my stepsister?”
“Yes. I know I just proposed to her, but she’d love a surprise Christmas wedding.”
“Seriously!” Sienna yells. “Your evil stepsister stole your fiancé, and now you have to plan her surprise Christmas wedding?”
“Is a surprise wedding a good idea? Why can’t we just plan a real one?” I tap my fingers together.
“Why are you trying to sabotage your sister’s wedding?” Austen demands. “I stuck up for you to your family. I told them that you would never do anything to hurt me. Was I wrong? Was I wrong to care about you still after everything that happened?”
“No, I—but this wedding is—”
Austen grabs me and shakes me. “You just said you’d plan it. You’d do anything for me, right?”
“Right,” I stammer.
He releases me. “So…”
“So?” I rub my arm.
“So go get planning the wedding.” His voice rises.
“She isn’t.” Sienna jumps to my defense. “Go plan your own wedding, and stop expecting the ex-girlfriends of Christmas past to do it for you.”
Austen stares coldly at me over her shoulder.
“It’s alright, Sienna. I like planning weddings,” I tell her softly. “I’ll start booking appointments.”
My ex claps me on the shoulder in a very nonromantic fashion. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”
I watch him go, the only man I ever loved. “How am I ever going to survive losing him?” I choke out.
“Bottle of wine? Shotgun? I’m sure that hitman that you have on payroll could help.”