19. Lacie
LACIE
I stretched my arms, feeling the pull all the way down my calves and my toes. I hadn’t had that good of a night’s sleep in so long. Every part of my body felt relaxed and supple.
I was planted. I’d grow roots. No more moving ever again.
Too soon, my relaxed state was jarred and kinked, and the confusion I’d had when drifting off last night returned.
Wyatt. He’d dumped me. Upended my life.
And then…
And then…
“Good morning.”
I blinked, startling at the voice, when in a rush the previous night’s events barraged me with all the force of a windstorm. I shrieked and sat up.
Sure enough, Jared was sitting in the cushy chair across the room from me. Hair rumpled, bags under his eyes, he didn’t look nearly as rested as I felt.
Oh, that was it. I was asleep in his room. Jared’s room. A snowman marrying us, the pictures smattered all over our phones—the kiss. It had all happened.
This wasn’t a dream I thought I’d wake from, because here I was, awake, and still sharing a room with him.
Which meant Jared’s words, his admission, had also been spoken. And I still wasn’t sure what to make of them.
Were his feelings real? Was his confession of love for me all part of this spell or whatever it was we were under? Not to mention the fact that even though I was trying to move on, he was still with someone.
When he’d asked me if I wanted him to be with Tia, I hadn’t known what to say. I didn’t want to do the same thing I’d criticized Tia for doing to him.
Who was I to tell him who to date and be with?
If he was going to choose me, I wanted it to be because he wanted to. Not because I demanded it.
Jared glowered at the fireplace, eyes puffy and full of sleep. His shoulders hunched. He remained motionless for far too long.
“You okay?” I asked, forcing down a smile.
He hadn’t looked this out of sorts since the time we’d had a lockdown in our high school after graduation and Jared had ended up sleeping at my house afterward because he’d been too tired to drive home.
“As okay as I can be.”
I plopped my hands on the comforter. This would never work. How could I go on sleeping comfortably and well when he was basically relegated to sitting up all night long?
“We’ll trade off. Tonight, I’ll take the chair, and you get the bed.”
He shook his head, standing to place the thin blanket he’d used on the chair in his place. “It’s fine.”
“But Jare...” I began.
We still had three more days here. How could I keep taking the bed and letting him get no sleep?
Wordlessly, he crossed the room and closed the bathroom door behind him. He’d refused, but I would make sure to insist he sleep where he could be comfortable. If that meant taking on the chair for a night here and there, that was that.
I reached for my planner for the day’s events. I flipped to the next page, and then the next, turning back to the first, my brow furrowing deeper with every motion.
Because these pages were blank.
“This can’t be right.”
I checked the corner dates. December twenty-third.
I double checked my phone. Sure enough, the dates matched. Which meant every precious detail I’d carefully planned for my vacay with Wyatt—now Jared—was gone.
Wiped. Erased.
Not even erased, though, because there were no markings where my writing had been before. No, my planner pages were as clean as they’d been the day I bought this thing.
A shiver ran across my arms, pulling up gooseflesh in the process, and I rubbed it away.
I should be used to random occurrences here by now, but this was beyond unexpected. It was like having a party I’d planned come up vacant after hours of searching for the ideal amenities.
My panic hitched. My movements juddered. I lowered my feet to the floor.
“No. No, no, no. Not good.”
I’d been guilty of forgetting things before, important things, and I wanted to be someone others could rely on. My forgetfulness had been the reason I’d botched the Milton wedding reception, the second gig I’d chaired at Hailey Winrow Events.
I’d nearly lost my job. I never wanted that to be the case again.
So I’d gotten organized. I’d bought baskets and cleaned out closets. I’d simplified my life, gotten rid of anything unnecessary or extemporaneous. I’d bought a paper organizer and made sure everything was recorded in it, then added those to my phone so I could have alarm reminders for good measure and had taken to watching the clock so much it neared the point of obsession.
Truth be told, I couldn’t hope to manage my job—an occupation centered around organizing things for other people—without a system for myself.
These were prestigious events most of the time; while we did get the occasional family party request, most of them were for high-profile clients who expected a certain caliber to their rendezvous.
And meeting that standard gave me so much pride. I loved the sense of accomplishment and self-satisfaction that came from a job well done, from praise received in newspapers. Once I’d set the precedent for myself, I couldn’t allow myself to do anything less.
Now, what was I going to do with my planner completely wiped? All those plans. All of my hard work.
My entire life was slipping away.
I would lose every client. I would lose my job for sure.
“What?” Jared opened the bathroom door to find me revving into full-on panic mode.
Never mind the rest of my life; as for our excursion here at Harper’s Inn, I’d scheduled spa times, tastings, and trips into neighboring West Hills for some shopping.
Every tiny, itemized plan was gone.
“There’s a reason I write things down. I made appointments. Now we’re going to miss everything!”
“What are you talking about?”
“The spa. I thought we were supposed to have a spa day, to spend a luxurious number of hours being groomed, and now I can’t find a thing. I scheduled yoga and the gym after that and a taste-testing with Mason Devries, the world-class chef who works here. I’ll have to contact Junie—I bet she has the schedule for things at the front desk.”
That was it. I could find a solution to this.
I could fix this.
“Everything is gone, you say?” He put a hand to his chin.
I wrung my hands, feeling everything inside of me unravel. Even my DNA strands were coming apart from their double helix shape and scattering through the rest of my body.
The mental image only escalated my panicking pulse.
“Yes!” I said. “You are not at the necessary level of upset that I need you to be about this.”
He looked far too cool and casual, almost amused, as he watched me from his spot leaning against the open bathroom door. He opened his hands.
“I’m upset.”
“Sure you are.” I flipped through my planner pages again. Again, everything was blank. Even the tasks I’d already checked off months ago were gone.
“But I’m also confused.”
Join the club.
Frustrated, I tossed the planner onto the bed and planted my hands on my hips. “About what?”
Crossing to the bed, he sank onto the mussed blankets and pointed to the planner I’d just tossed.
“All your plans are gone?”
“Yes.” I added an eye roll. Hadn’t I just said as much?
“Then, what’s that?” He directed my attention—not to the planner, but to the fireplace just off from the bathroom door.
Strangely enough, a stocking hung from a peg on the mantle. I frowned, puzzling over its appearance. Nothing had been hanging there last night.
“That’s not mine,” I said.
“No? Seems like the kind of Christmassy thing you’d do.”
The suggestion bothered me like a cat who had its fur petted in the wrong direction. “I’d never hang up only one stocking.”
“Hm. You’re right. You would have hung up one for me, too. Or maybe three, because of that whole rule-of-three thing you talk about when setting up your parties.”
Despite my frustration, a smile played at the corners of my mouth. I peeled my eyes away from my planner and glanced at Jared, who still sat on the edge of the bed in his basketball shorts and dark t-shirt.
Sighing, I sat down beside him. “You know me so well.”
He shrugged. “I pay attention.”
I placed my bare feet on the carpet and headed for the stocking. This was nothing store-bought. It was narrow and long, with red darning along the heel and toe. It was slim, as though intended to be worn by a human foot.
My frustration over my mysteriously cleared schedule vanished for the moment.
“Cute, Jare,” I said.
“What’s cute?”
“You doing something like this to make me happy.”
This was why he’d come with me.
We’d gotten off-track yesterday with all that talk of moving on and change, with kisses and gushing emotions rearing—emotions I didn’t quite know what to do with.
This was just what I needed. Something random to cheer me up. Jared was good at random.
“While I love making you happy, I can’t claim responsibility for this.”
I peered at him. The usual smirk on his face when I discovered his pranks was non-existent. Just like the key/room debacle the day before.
My momentary relief gave way to the unwanted and ever-lingering confusion I’d been swimming in.
“If you didn’t hang up the stocking, then who did?”