17 #2
“I wish you had,” I say, lifting my head from my hands. I feel a flutter in my chest as our eyes lock. Something warm and comforting spreads through my body. Robbie still has that calming effect on me.
“We can make up for it now?” he asks.
“I’d like that.” I flash a brave smile. “Want to help me polish off the last batch of ensaymada?”
His eyes sparkle. “You don’t have to ask.”
I pull the last tray of brioche from where it was warming in the oven and nod him toward the counter. “If we don’t dig in now, it’ll get cold,” I say, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Tragic,” Robbie says solemnly, sliding next to me. “Absolutely cannot risk that.”
We stand shoulder to shoulder, tearing the bread open while steam curls upward. I spread a thick layer of buttercream, then sprinkle more sugar and cheese than is probably recommended by the surgeon general.
Robbie watches me for a second. “You always did that,” he says. “Like you were trying to prove a point.”
“That dessert should be dessert?” I challenge.
“That moderation is a myth,” he says, grinning.
I giggle. The sound surprises me—how easy it comes. As we decorate the ensaymada, our comfortable silence is broken only by the faint bass thumping from the other room and the scrape of knives against our plates.
“You apologized earlier for not reaching out, but I didn’t call, either,” I say. Another pause. Not awkward. Just loaded like there’s a million things to say but no one’s saying it.
I want to say I’m sorry about the Battle of the Bands blowup, but I can’t quite get the words to form.
“I can’t believe we’re both here,” Robbie muses.
Same, but the reason I’m here is like an unsolved mystery. Of course, I can’t share that. I clear my throat. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be back in Hopewell Crossing with your folks?”
His shoulders lower and he turns his attention back to an ensaymada. “I was in town and Marc is a theater buddy, so I said why not.”
“You’re not spending Christmas with your family?” I ask, feeling a pang, recalling the FOR SALE sign on the Morrows’ music store.
“I’m spending the holiday with… a friend.” The tone in his voice makes me think this person is more than a friend. When he doesn’t volunteer more, I focus on my brioche. It’s none of my business, but we used to tell each other everything.
“Another random high school friend,” I joke.
He chuckles. “Nah, Diamond is definitely not a high school friend.”
My vision narrows at the edges. He’s in a serious relationship with someone, spending Christmas Day together. But so am I. Why does it bother me so much that he is?
Wham!
I spin as the kitchen door bangs open.
“There you are!” Anthony’s eyes are bright. I recognize the look on his face; he’s amped from the attention he’s been getting all evening. “I was waiting for you to join us! I wanted to give you the gift I told you about!”
He holds something up triumphantly and I stiffen when I notice the object in his hand: a karaoke mic.
“Surprise,” he announces, grinning. “You’re singing.”
I swear I hear a record scratch in my brain. Robbie inhales.
My stomach flips. “Anthony—no.”
“Come on,” he says, already tugging me toward the door. “You’ve got talent. We talked about this. You need to follow your passion. Like I am.”
When he tugs me into the room, I see it right away, sitting in the corner.
“A karaoke machine?” I ask. “Is that the surprise act of kindness you mentioned?”
“Dream following!” he says, pushing the mic at me. I refuse to take it.
An hour ago I was delighted by this man who helped me bake and told me to follow my passions.
But I didn’t think he was going to ambush me in front of a group of his drunk friends.
I stare at their faces and feel the wash of panic from the Battle of the Bands all those years ago.
They’re here for Anthony. They’re going to listen politely. Or worse.
I shake my head.
Anthony steps closer, voice dropping. “Remember I was talking about inspiring each other? You helped me with my restaurant dream and… well, I know how much you enjoyed singing, so I thought you’d like to try again.”
I run a hand through my hair. I shake my head. “Anthony, thanks, it’s so thoughtful, but I don’t think I’m comfortable doing that.”
He tilts his head, surprised. “Not comfortable? It’s just karaoke. And these are my friends. They are excited to hear you sing.”
I look at Robbie for help. The confusion on his face matches my own. I turn back to Anthony. “I can’t sing on command,” I whisper at him.
Anthony laughs. “But this is what it looks like when you’re pursuing your dreams, MG. You sing even when you don’t want to. You talk to restaurant investors whenever an opportunity presents itself. How do you think I got my restaurant off the ground?”
With Daddy’s money and my social skills, I want to say, but keep my mouth closed.
“Are you seriously doing this now?” Anthony throws his hands in the air. “I thought you’d be happy. Why did I even bother buying this thing? What a waste—”
“I’ll sing.” Robbie interrupts. “I’m game.”
Robbie looks at me with a shrug.
“You don’t have to.” I mouth at him.
But Anthony scoffs. “I didn’t get this machine so some rando can use it. I got it so my girlfriend could use it.”
Anger fills my chest. He has no idea how talented Robbie is. “Rando?” I protest. “Robbie isn’t some rando. He’s a professional musician. And he’s amazing.”
“Well, I don’t need him showing off, then,” Anthony says.
“Hey, man, I don’t need to sing,” Robbie says, holding his hands up placatingly. Robbie is always the picture of cool, but I know him well enough to see the way anger is buzzing just under the surface of his calm voice. “I was just trying to lighten the mood, but you’re right, this isn’t my scene.”
“Then leave!” Anthony shouts. “No one wants you here.”
Robbie steps back, thrusts his hands in his pockets, eyes going between me and Anthony. When his gaze lands on mine, I feel it like a bolt through my core.
I want him here.
“Fine,” Robbie says, then looks at me. “Are you sure this is really what you want?”
I open my mouth, but Anthony interrupts.
“She’s my girlfriend. Of course she wants this.”
Robbie gives me a look before turning to grab his coat. He slams the door behind him on his way out.
My stomach sinks. He’s going to go to be with Diamond. He’s going to leave me here alone with Anthony and his drunk friends. I can’t tell which guy I’m more upset with.
“Now we can actually enjoy ourselves,” Anthony says with an angry huff of a laugh.
I turn to him, livid.
“I can’t believe you would do that!”
“Do what?” Anthony scoffs, pressing a button on the karaoke machine, loading up a song. “Guy was a drag. He didn’t know how to have fun.”
“I think you’re having a little too much fun,” I say.
Anthony turns to me, stiff, white with anger. “What do you mean by that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask, “You were talking about classy Kegmas this morning like you had really changed because you have a restaurant now and big boy money. But you’re still just a drunk frat guy doing keg stands on Christmas.”
Anthony blinks at me. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Absolutely. You know what? Enjoy your holiday,” I say to him, turning toward the door. I thrust my feet into two snow boots and grab the first coat I see. “Because you are definitely not the one I’ll be spending it with.”