33. Penny
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
penny
Now that it’s officially been a few months since the break-up, I’m finally admitting defeat. I think we all knew what the final decision would be, but I needed to come to it on my own terms, and I think that day has come. After months of fighting with my ex-boyfriend, of trying to sever my life from his, of trying to heal, I know what my next step is.
I am staying at home.
My workplace approved of the move after some discussion. Turns out in such a short time, they really like me, and they don’t want to lose me quite yet. My job is fully capable of being remote, and that has been agreed upon and signed off on. There is nothing else calling me away from home, so home is where I’ll stay.
It’s where I want to stay.
Despite Avery’s protests, that means I have to start looking for somewhere else to live. I can’t stay here forever. She and Seth need space. But she was right, I can’t move back in with my parents either. A couple of nights here and there has been enough to drive me crazy.
Until the dust settles on my old life, the only thing I can really consider is a rental. Once I get my name off that mortgage, I can look into something more permanent, but a decent rental will do in the meantime.
I’m searching through listings on my laptop while Avery, Seth, and the guys decorate the house for the holidays. Wyatt and EJ are far too drunk to be taking part, everything they place is either crooked or off center, but they refuse to surrender. Seth follows closely behind to fix the messes they make.
Avery meticulously circles her big, white, fake tree. She winds the lights onto the branches like a damn brain surgeon, her eyes narrowed, and mouth pursed in concentration. Her Santa hat keeps falling in her eyes, but she will not take it off until the decorating is done.
“Ooh!” I say, slamming my finger on the enter key. I jolt up, swinging my laptop toward Wyatt. “What about this one?”
“No,” Avery says immediately.
I glance at her. She’s still focused, her movements calculated and slow.
“You haven’t even seen it.”
“Don’t need to,” she mutters.
Yeah, she’s still not on board with me leaving.
Wyatt tosses the fairy lights that he was busying himself with back inside of the box and drops himself onto the couch, snatching my laptop from me and placing it on the coffee table. He sets his spiked eggnog down and leans forward, clicking rapidly, dark eyes focused.
EJ, who just wound garland around the television unit sloppily and unevenly, rushes to take a peek.
Seth immediately drops to a kneel to fix EJ’s mess.
“Nice floors,” EJ points out.
“No yard,” Wyatt counters, running a hand over his bottom jaw.
“It’s just a rental. Temporary,” I remind them.
“You need a yard,” Avery pipes up, but she’s hidden completely from view by the giant white branches now. “You love dogs.”
True. Don’t have one, though.
“This is off of Canterbury Crescent,” Wyatt says.
EJ’s brow furrows, and he leans forward from behind the couch, arms crossed.
Wyatt is still clicking around, but I can’t see the screen.
“Hell no,” Seth says, his back to us. He is solely focused on adjusting the white garland, but his ears are clearly elsewhere.
“Why not?” I ask, bringing my drink to my lips.
“That area has gone downhill,” EJ says quietly. He’s starting to shake his head, so it isn’t looking good.
“I would be nervous living there as a single lady,” Wyatt adds.
“Oh, fuck—but look at that bathroom.”
“It’s so nice!” I jump in, already a tad attached to this house because of that bathroom. It has a clawfoot tub that I know will grant me the nicest bubble baths on planet earth. “I’d have so much room, and I love the black and gold colour scheme.”
“Would you like black, gold, and red?” Wyatt asks, dark eyes snapping toward me. “Because that’ll be the colour scheme when someone breaks in and murders you.”
“Next one,” Avery says, reappearing from behind the tree with her string of lights. “I’ll kill her myself before she steps foot in that house.”
Wyatt nods and snaps the computer shut. Noticing the way I deflate, he flashes me a sympathetic smile, but it’s obvious that he’s pleased everyone voted against that place.
I guess that puts an end to rental searches for the night.
I fall against the pillows. “I don’t know what you guys expect. There is nothing else half-decent available. ”
“That’s why you wait until after Christmas to look,” Wyatt says. He has said that four hundred times in the past two weeks. “Nobody is selling or renting around the holidays, P. I have told you this.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“And there is no rush,” Avery snaps over her shoulder. She lets out a grunt, yanking the Santa hat away from her face again. “It’s not like we’re going to kick you to the curb. We don’t want you to go.”
“You know,” EJ says suddenly, like a thought just came to him. He has one arm across his chest, the other cradling his drink. “I’m gone for two weeks at a time. You could stay in my guest room for the time being—until you find a place. It’ll be like living alone.”
“My god! ” Avery shouts, finally tearing herself away from her masterpiece. Her brown eyes are on fire, small hands clutching the string of lights so tight that they might shatter. “What is wrong with my guest room?”
EJ holds up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying that I’m gone more often than I’m here. She’d have her own space, and it’s safe.”
I don’t say anything because this is a touchy subject for Avery, but that sounds… nice. EJ and I would have to get used to living with one another, but his work takes him out of town frequently, which would grant me some alone time, and I’d get out of Seth and Avery’s hair.
It’s an interesting offer.
I meet his gaze as Avery mutters to herself and resumes her work. I still don’t speak, but I nod at him, mouthing the words ‘we’ll talk.’
EJ nods, winking in solidarity.
“Oh, shit. It’s Monday,” Wyatt says suddenly. Everyone but Avery stops to look at him. He’s gripping his phone, his other hand scratching his head over his black ballcap. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
Seth’s gaze slowly falls to me, his hands outstretched with fluffy, fake snow.
“Tomorrow?” I ask.
“Dec’s home. He gets in early as fuck, but I know he’ll be itching to see us,” Wyatt says.
Dread blossoms in my chest. Oh, right. Time has been passing so quickly, my head muddled with all things Gavin and work that I failed to remember it was Declan-Eve.
I feel the weight of Seth’s stare on the side of my face. I glance his way and his attention snaps to Wyatt far too quickly for my liking.
At some point, Declan is going to come home, and I am going to have to face him. I just wish I had a little more time. I wish everything with Gavin was settled. I wish I could face him for the first time with a clear headspace and a lighter, kinder heart.
I bring my glass to my lips and take a sip.
“We were thinking of hosting a brunch,” Avery says from behind the tree.
Seth has become far too interested in the television stand. He keeps tucking the same corner of the fabric-snow around the side of the base.
“Is this a boozy brunch?” EJ asks. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
Everything we do over the holidays is boozy .
“It can be if you bring booze,” Avery says, still hidden behind the tree. “I’ll go and get champagne tonight, but if you want something different, you’ll have to grab it yourself.”
“I’ll get the champagne,” EJ says. “We all know Tiff and Lauren are going to down the prosecco within the first hour. I’ll grab vodka, OJ, and beer, too.”
“Tiffany has plans with her boyfriend,” Avery tells the room. “She won’t be here.”
Ah yes, the mysterious boyfriend. She has yet to bring him around, but Instagram confirms he’s real. I’m happy for her. She met him the infamous night at The Swan Dive, when Dec and I had our little spat. She’s head over heels for him. Besides Lauren, she hasn’t really spent much time with the rest of us lately. She’s happy. I can’t blame her.
“I have a question,” I announce. I’m trying to ease my own worries about being in the same room with Declan tomorrow. I’d rather we stop talking about him all together. “Will there be?—”
“—yes,” Avery and Seth cut me off in unison. Seth glances over his shoulder, finally meeting my eyes. “I’m making you chocolate peppermint cinnamon rolls tomorrow.”
My mouth falls open, eyes gaping. Chocolate what now?
“I think she just had an orgasm,” EJ whispers, glancing down at Wyatt.
“I did,” I admit.
Wyatt smirks at me before looking down at his phone. “Dec is in. He says he’ll pick up coffees on his way. Place your orders now, folks. The all-star is treating us.”
“Vanilla latte!”
“One milk, one sugar.”
“You want your hazelnut shit?”
“Americano, please.”
“I’ve got to pee,” I grumble, sliding off the couch.
I ignore Seth’s stare. Whatever is going on inside of his mind, I wish he’d keep it there. It’s written all over his face. I don’t know what he thinks he knows, but for the past few weeks, he hasn't been very transparent when the topic of Declan comes up. He looks at me like I’m going to spontaneously turn around and punch a hole through his drywall or combust into flames.
In a sense, things have been easier since their trip. I have begun to heal, forwarding paperwork from Gavin to the lawyer I hired, sending paperwork back to him. Things are moving forward. He’s being a bit passive aggressive, but I just ignore it. I can. I owe him nothing.
I’ve been healing from Declan, too. It’s still a sore spot, but the trip finalized a lot of things. He didn’t want me in Pittsburgh. That was an ice-cold awakening. Accepting that there was nothing left to repair gave me the courage to try and get over it. It isn’t always easy, but I have to come to terms with it. I have to find some form of peace in my life.
Things can only get better from this point forward.
It’s a lot simpler when he isn’t around, when I can’t see him or those lips, those dimples, or any inch of his skin. When I can’t hear his voice or remember how it sounds when he whispers my name in the dark.
I shut the door to the bathroom and take a deep breath.
It doesn’t help.
How has breathing become hard? This is a new low.
I walk to the toilet and lower the lid, dropping myself onto it. Okay, I’m panicking. I rub my thighs, forcing another deep, weighted breath.
In through the nose, out through the mouth. I should have grabbed Wyatt; he’s been dealing with anxiety since he was a teenager. He knows the tricks to calm an attack like this before it happens. But I don’t want to have to have to explain myself.
How does that method go? Three things I can see? Sink, toilet, vanilla soap. Three things I can smell? This is a bathroom; do I want to smell anything in here? Three things I can hear? My friends laughing, the buzz of the fan, and the Christmas music that’s been turned up .
It will be okay. I can breathe through it. It might not feel like it right now, but this is just a panicked reaction, my lungs are getting oxygen.
Declan and I are mature adults. We can manage this without dire consequences. We’ve made it this far and nobody is any wiser. It doesn’t have to feel like everything is coming to a head. We can exist in the same orbit without making it weird for everyone else, even if it’s weird for ourselves. It’ll eventually become the new normal, right? This is just the initial push.
I’m fairly certain Seth is the only one who has picked up on anything unusual, but I swear he is a mind reader and is just keeping his gift a secret so that we don’t use his powers for our own gain.
I need to get out of this house.
Not because I want to go. I’d love to live with Avery for the rest of my life. She and Seth need space. I need a bit of space. I haven’t had a moment to really exist on my own. Not for nearly a decade. Though it’s been nice to have my best friend beside me for every step of this travesty, I can’t keep putting on a brave face like I’m not harbouring an arsenal of secrets. I’m suffocating. I’ve reached the point where it’s time to learn to be alone.
By spring, I’m sure that I will be able to find a place to rent. Maybe all this stuff with Gavin will be handled by then and I can look for an actual house. A permanent thing. Somewhere to plant roots again. That seems like a good way to end my old life and start my new one.
Until then, living with EJ might be a smart idea.
Avery is going to want to strangle me with a string of garland, but even she has to admit that she and Seth deserve time to enjoy being engaged. I have been hogging her since the very day he put that ring on her finger.
Figuring out my living situation and healing from my breakup is one thing. Declan coming home is another. I truly expected that he’d avoid coming home at all this year, just to make this easier. I didn’t particularly want him to do that, but it would have been a relief.
Seth told me that Dec had been furious on that phone call, the one where he said I wasn’t welcome in Pittsburgh. I figured he’d go to the greatest of lengths to avoid me, including avoiding Christmas.
Breathe in and breathe out, and hopefully, by the time I am done fake peeing, they aren’t talking about Declan anymore.
After five minutes, I wash my hands for absolutely no reason and saunter back downstairs. Christmas music is blasting a little louder than before. The lights are perfectly strung through the white branches of the tree, and Avery is digging through a giant box of ornaments with a frown on her face.
I stop behind the couch, watching her gnaw on her lip. “Need any?—”
“No!” she shouts, smacking a few bulbs out of the way.
I raise my brows, eyes flickering to Seth. He just shakes his head.
Don’t get in between this girl and her tree.
I glance over my shoulder to where EJ is mixing up a cocktail in the kitchen, singing a bit too loud and extremely off key. His red beanie is pulled low atop his blond hair. The concoction he is brewing up is a deep, murky red colour. It looks lethal.
He pours a heap of frozen cranberries into the pitcher.
Wyatt is waiting by the island for him to finish, barking orders to put more vodka in.
Angry, grinch girl or two happy, drunken boys?
I spin on my heel and walk to the kitchen. Wyatt is blocking the way in, so I slide under his arm and wrap my hands around his middle instead, leaning into him.
He wraps a big, heavy arm onto my shoulders.
“Too much mint!” he groans, throwing his hand up.
“Making one for me, Ernie?” I ask.
EJ’s tongue is poking out from between his lips. He nods, tearing into some more mint with his fingers. He drops it into the mixer, shooting Wyatt a pointed look.
Wyatt just grins, joining in on the singing now, under his breath. It’s the Christmas CD from our childhood, one featuring a pop star and her sister, and it’s a requirement of any Christmas that includes Avery and I. The guys know all the words now, albeit begrudgingly. “Little Drummer Boy” has always been their favourite.
Wyatt squeezes my shoulder, and then turns me in his hands.
I look up at that sweet face that I love so dearly. Dark, kind eyes, a strong jaw, and the perfect, crooked smile. Wyatt’s smirk grows as I peer up at him. He slides his hand into mine. It’s an attempt to drag me out of the kitchen and toward the living room to dance with him.
I know his moves.
He’s doing this little two-step, tappy thing with his feet. I can’t help but laugh. It looks funny when a giant tap dances, if you didn’t know. He looks positively adorable doing it.
“Come on, P,” he says, spinning me under his arm. “Show me that Sweeten flavour.”
I roll my eyes but let him pull me back into his chest. He slides his arm to my waist, and I wrap my own around his back, feigning reluctance.
I’ll dance with him anywhere. In any room. Any day of the week. He’s the only guy in this house that gets that privilege.
He whirls us around the living room in the most uncoordinated, discombobulated dance routine that I have ever been a part of. We almost crash into Avery’s bucket of baubles, and she lets out an ear-piercing scream, clinging to it for dear life.
But I’m laughing. I’m really laughing. I’m not thinking about how much different my life was last Christmas as Wyatt spins me around. I can’t remember how lost I am when Avery grumbles about a missing ballerina ornament. I forget that I have never known this depth of sadness when EJ flashes me a toothy smile and shoves a drink that is too strong for human consumption into my hands.
But I do think about Declan.
I think about him in every moment, in every step, and in every second.
When Wyatt tilts his head back and sings at the top of his lungs, it’s Declan’s face that I see that night at The Swan Dive . When EJ lines up shots, it’s Declan I picture, removing my lemon slice from the glass. When Seth gathers Avery close, smoothing out her hair and calming her down with one touch, I remember how his arms had felt like home.