Prologue
CHRISTMAS EVE, NINE YEARS AGO
Chicago
“Are you sure?”
The sales assistant doesn’t even try to hide her frown as she follows my pointing finger to the bottom shelf behind her. There, nestled among the daintier and more expensive perfumes, sits a squat green vial that looks like it was left there by mistake.
“It’s calling to me,” I say.
The woman, Martha according to her name tag, hesitates, but when I just smile, she sighs, her snowflake earrings sparkling as she bends down to grab it.
“I think the Armani would be a better choice,” she says as I push up my sleeve.
We’ve already doused my other arm in five different perfumes and I’m running out of unscented skin. “There’s twenty percent off.”
“That one was too nice,” I say, holding out my wrist. She sprays it dutifully and I lean down to sniff, wrinkling my nose at the faux apple scent. Sickly sweet with a strong chemical undertone. My sister will hate it.
Which means it’s perfect.
“I’ll take it.”
Martha coughs as the fumes reach her. “If you’re worried about budget, we have plenty of cheaper options.”
“I’m not,” I assure her. “This is the one. Really.”
She opens her mouth to protest as the next song starts to play over the speakers, something about sleighbells and reindeers and a jolly good time. A visible shudder runs through her, and I wince in sympathy. I can only imagine how many times she’s had to listen to it.
“Do they ever switch up the playlist in here?”
“That would be a no.” Her eyes flick to the perfume and then to the line of people forming behind me. I see the exact moment she labels me a lost cause. “Gift wrapped?”
“Please.”
She hides the bottle in a mound of tissue paper as though it personally offends her and I mentally cross the final item off my to-do list. With Zoe’s present sorted, I am officially done and heading home for the holidays.
Or, more realistically, for a week in December.
My family has never been big into Christmas, but everyone expects me to go back and so back I go.
At least it means I get to be the favorite child for a few days.
Moving to the States for college grants me a certain air of novelty whenever I return, which basically means no chores.
Zoe was livid last year when she had to do the dishes three nights in a row.
Mam insisted I was too jet-lagged and, honestly, what kind of daughter would I be to argue with my own mother?
“Are you sure ?” Martha asks, dropping her customer service smile as she clutches the plastic bag.
I hand over the cash, trying not to laugh at her reluctance. “Positive.”
I step away just as my phone begins to ring, my good mood plummeting when Hayley’s name flashes up on the screen. For one wild moment, I think about not answering it. I wish I’d carried through with that impulse as soon as I do.
“I need a favor.”
I turn, fighting my way through the crowded duty-free of O’Hare airport as her voice sounds in my ear.
Hayley was the first friend I made at Northwestern.
She lived three rooms down from me in our first year and I’d latched onto her in the way any newbie does when they’re searching for a friendly face.
And while the first few months didn’t raise any red flags, the more I threw myself into my new life, the more I realized that there were other, much nicer people I could spend my time with.
People who I had more in common with than the girl I always had to buy coffee for because she left her wallet in her other purse.
She’d stuck around though, clinging to me in a way I found both confusing and flattering even though it was clear our friendship was hard work.
Zoe always said I was a pushover, but it’s not like they teach you this stuff in school. I’d been given lots of colorful leaflets about making friends on my first day. Not a whole lot about dumping them.
“I’m kind of busy right now,” I say. “I’m at the airport, remember?”
“It’s a really urgent favor.”
“I doubt that.” I try not to sound as grumpy as I feel. “But what’s up?”
There’s a loud smack of gum as she answers. “Can I borrow your blue dress for a thing tonight? The one with the back straps?”
“I packed that one.”
“What about the green one that makes you look like you have breasts?”
“I have breasts,” I huff. The girls just need a little accentuation help sometimes. “Anyway, Andrew’s not going to care what you’re wearing.”
“Andrew?”
“Your boyfriend,” I remind her, wincing at the thought of her getting it on in my clothes.
They’ve been together for a few months and I’ve barely seen him without her tongue down his throat.
I chatted with him the first time we met, both of us pleased to find another Irish person so far from home, but I don’t think Hayley liked the thought of us bonding and she’s made a point of keeping us apart ever since.
To be honest, I’m starting to think she doesn’t like anyone in her life doing something that isn’t solely with her.
But now that jealous streak is nowhere to be found as she hums down the line.
“What?” I ask, knowing it’s exactly what she wants me to do.
“I’m thinking about breaking up with him.” She says the words casually like he’s an old pair of shoes she’s considering throwing out.
“Since when? I thought you liked him?”
“I did.” A pause. “He makes a lot of jokes.”
I roll my eyes as I start walking again, weaving through the other travelers.
“But I couldn’t dump him right before the holidays,” she continues. “I’m not a monster.”
“No, you’re right. Cold, dark January will be much better.” Poor guy. He seemed perfectly fine the few times we’ve talked. Or maybe it’s loyalty to a fellow countryman that’s making me feel so bad. “Where are you going tonight?”
“Dinner with Rob.” She’s barely able to hide her glee. “We hooked up last night after he—”
“What?”
“Billy’s friend.”
“No, I know who Rob is,” I say, picturing the muscly frat boy who’s been slobbering over her. “What do you mean you hooked up?”
“We went back to his after Kendra’s thing and, Molly, you would not believe what he can do with his—”
“So, you ended things with Andrew?” I interrupt, confused.
“I said I’m thinking about that.”
…Yeah, I need new friends. “You cheated on him?”
“It’s not cheating if I’m going to break up with him.”
“Yes, it is!”
“Oh my God ,” she groans. “This is not a big deal.”
“You need to break up with him if you’re seeing someone else, Hayley. It’s cruel.”
“Alright,” she huffs. “Fine. I’ll do it now.”
“No, not now . Wait until classes start back.”
“But you just said—”
“I know what I said.” I tug my suitcase closer to my body as I step onto one of the automatic walkways, catching my reflection in the mirrored wall opposite and schooling the heavy scowl I find there into something more public-friendly.
Maybe she was right the first time, who wants to get dumped on Christmas Eve?
“How about you don’t see Rob from now until you do? ”
“But I’m seeing him tonight,” she says, like I’m an idiot. “Look, if it’s such a big deal to you, I’ll message Andrew.”
“Hayley, you can’t!” I snap, freaking out at the thought of her breaking up with him over text. I don’t even know the guy that well, but there’s such a thing as common decency.
There’s silence on the other end of the line and I think she’s finally realized how shitty that would be when she snorts. “Okay, Mom .”
“Hayley—”
“I’ve got to go.” Her tone changes to one of supreme boredom. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
“I gave you a key to water my plants, not to borrow my dress so you can cheat on—”
“ Bye! ” she calls down the line and immediately hangs up.
I stumble off the walkway, staring at my phone in outrage. I need new friends. That can be my New Year’s Resolution. New friends. New, non-terrible friends.
I’m in such a mood after the call that it takes me another five minutes before I realize I’ve gone in the wrong direction and by the time I make it to my gate, sweaty and flustered, they’re halfway through boarding.
It’s a small plane. Two seats on either side and two in the middle, each one packed tight together. Progress down it is frustratingly slow as people hobble along, stuffing bags into overhead lockers and fumbling with heavy winter coats.
I match the shuffling steps of the person in front of me, concentrating so hard on not banging my suitcase on anyone’s elbow, that it’s only when I stop by my row and relax my aching fingers that I glance at the seat next to mine.
I like to think I have acceptable standards for traveling.
All I want and expect is someone who keeps their shoes on and doesn’t steal my food when I go to the restroom.
Just a polite, normal stranger who I can ignore for seven hours while I try and get some sleep.
So you can imagine my horror when, instead of greeting some unknown frequent flyer, I stare straight into the eyes of Hayley’s soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.
Andrew Fitzpatrick looks just as surprised to see me as I am to see him.
But instead of the sinking, you’ve got to be kidding me feeling I’m experiencing, he just smiles.
It’s the kind of smile that Hayley gushed over after their first date.
A freaking white-teeth, dimpled, make-you-feel-all-warm-inside smile.
And he directs the full force of it right at me.
Crap.
“Molly?”
Crap crap crap.
“Hello!” I chime a little too loudly. Indoor voice, Moll. Or plane voice or whatever.
“Is this you?” He points to the seat next to him and I glance around for another miraculous one to appear.
Of course, it doesn’t. This flight was booked out days ago.
He knows it too, not even waiting for me to respond as he stands, slipping into the aisle.
“That’s crazy,” he continues. “And you’ve bagged the window seat. ”
Aka the trapped seat.