Chapter 23 - Maren
Maren
It felt like I’d stepped into a memory where the details were a little fuzzy, and everything felt off. Like it was mine, but also not.
Liv’s holiday party used to be my favorite night of the year. Simple, intimate, always too much fun crammed into only a few hours. It was the perfect way to kick off the season. Or it used to be.
Laughter rippled through the room, easy and familiar, a sound that usually settled right into my bones. Not tonight, though. I’d been standing here for who knew how long, trying to absorb the merriment by osmosis, but it wasn’t working.
“Don’t tell me I forgot to clean the glue from that spot on the floor.” That third glass of chardonnay had tinged Liv’s cheeks bright red to match the shimmer of tinsel pinned in her hair. “That’ll be so embarrassing, honestly.”
“What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me,” she said with a quirk of her eyebrow. “This is a party. Parties generally involve milling about, talking and drinking. And if you’re feeling a little racy, dancing too. Is it the music?”
I shook my head. If she only knew. I’d been crashing on her and Jonathan’s couch for over a week and in true Liv fashion, she never once pushed to find out why I was suddenly homeless. Just made sure I was eating and hydrating the regular amount.
“You can tell me,” she went on. “Jonathan was feeling left out of the planning, and I told him he could make the playlist. Is it bad? Do you want me to change it? I don’t mind, and it’ll only hurt his feelings a little.”
“Liv, stop.” I laughed softly. “The music’s great. There’s no need for anyone’s feelings to get hurt.”
“Okay fine, he can keep his stupid playlist.” She rolled her eyes. “So tell me why you haven’t moved in the past half hour.”
I gestured haplessly, searching for the right thing to say.
It was the same December ritual, the same people.
Different music, but it wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be.
Jonathan’s taste was always a little left of center.
Everyone was having a good time, regardless.
And up til now, I thought I’d at least given the impression that I was too.
“It’s the blinis, isn’t it?”
I heaved an internal sigh of relief, thankful for the easy out she’d given me. “Can you blame me? Every year you invite these savages, and every year they decimate your cranberry and brie blinis before I get to have one.”
Her laugh tinkled over one of Celine Dion’s more upbeat Christmas carols. “Have a drink with me. They pair great with—” She squinted at her glass. “What am I drinking, again?”
“Chardonnay,” Jonathan and I said at the same time. He’d breezed by with a snack refill for the coffee table, pausing long enough to give her a quick peck on the cheek. “And a glass for the wallflower.”
He was sweet. Attentive. So good for her.
Something twinged in my chest, but I fought it back with a tight smile and took the drink. “Thanks.”
She hooked her arm through mine and dragged me over to the Christmas tree, where a few of our friends were in the middle of a heated debate about breakfast cereal, which didn’t surprise me at all, knowing this group.
“I’m just saying… They’re always bragging about iron, and protein, and all that good shit. If it’s healthy in the morning, what makes it unhealthy at night?”
“It’s not unhealthy, bro. Just not recommended.”
My favorite of the arguments went something like, “Cereal’s a hoax. I don’t trust it, and do not recommend it for any meal of the day.”
Before long, I was laughing without trying.
It may have had something to do with the wine Jonathan kept plying on us.
But as the night wore on, the black cloud hanging over me was still there, just less heavy.
Every now and again there’d be a slip, a fractured moment where I’d get pulled back to the brownstone in Back Bay.
The kids’ faces presenting me with my own ornament for the tree, or the chaos Winston the newt had caused.
Mostly it was the men, and how they’d unlocked a part of me I didn’t know was there.
And Ethan’s face the night Emma ran off. That scathing look in his eyes when he said it was all my fault. I hadn’t left because of what he said. I left because he’d been right.
Jonathan found me adjusting the paper snowflake bunting over the bookshelf, and said, “The last two, my lady.”
“Oh, my God. If she doesn’t marry you, I will.” I took the blinis from him, smashed them together like a sandwich, then popped it into my mouth.
“Speaking of which…” His mouth curled into a knowing smile.
My eyes went wide, darting from him to Liv chatting away in the middle of the living room. I chewed faster, desperate to empty my mouth enough so I could let go of the excited scream caught in my throat. But the song changed, and I lost them both.
“Babe! My song!” Jonathan leapt across the floor to pull Liv into his arms.
I never took him for an N Sync kind of guy, but as I watched him dazzle Liv with his moves, it made total sense. Soon enough, everyone was dancing, laughing, and spinning around the living room as if there’d be no tomorrow. Jonathan called me over and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
By the time I landed in the huddle, I realized I was actually smiling.
One of the guys was attempting something that looked like a combination of the Running Man and interpretive dance.
Drinks in hand, everyone’s laughter mingled with the crackle of Liv’s old bluetooth speaker, filling the apartment with infectious cheer.
At the crest of the final chorus, our self-proclaimed dance star threw his arms out in a dramatic spin, and sailed quite literally over the back of the couch. A collective gasp rang out, punctuated by a cracking thud and startled yelp.
“Man down,” Jonathan laughed, rushing to his aid. Liv and I followed as best we could, our laughter making it hard to walk in a straight line.
“You okay down there, buddy?”
He groaned his response, and it took all three of us to get him back on his feet.
“Thanks for the rescue,” he said, and planted a kiss on both of our cheeks before launching back over the couch to continue dancing.
I couldn’t stop laughing. My wine glass wobbled dangerously, and I swatted at Jonathan when he tried to steady me, but his grin was all encouragement, like he knew the exact buttons to press to pull me out of my own head.
Liv was right there, snorting with laughter beside me, and for a few minutes, I wasn’t the outsider of the night anymore.
I was just one more idiot in a pile of Christmas throwbacks, spinning arms, shoving past each other, and loving every ridiculous second.
A few songs later, the laughter had begun to thin around the edges, and someone turned the volume down as we approached midnight.
Shoes kicked off, coats draped over chairs, and the group had settled into the quieter hum of post-dance exhaustion.
Glasses clinked less, conversations leaned toward low chuckles and the occasional teasing remark.
The initial surge of holiday buzz was fading, replaced by that familiar lull that always came when the night started to curl toward an end. I sat on the armrest of the couch, listening to all this when I realized I hadn’t checked in with Liv in a while.
I found her in the kitchen, perched on a stool by the counter, carefully refilling a platter of cookies and cheese cubes with a concentration usually reserved for fine art.
She glanced up and caught my eye, giving me a small, conspiratorial smile. “I knew you could do it.”
“Thanks,” I said, coming over to help.
She tilted her head. “Thanks?”
“For letting me stay here.” I kept my focus on the cheese cubes, unable to meet her studious gaze. “And for putting up with me being a party pooper for most of the night.”
Liv’s smile widened and she slid off the stool, wrapping me in a hug. Her warmth was immediate, grounding me, and I rested my head against her shoulder for a moment, letting the tension in my chest ease a little.
“You’re like a sister to me, Maren,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to look at me. “I don’t care about your mood, just that you’re here. Besides, it’ll all be ancient history once we get to my parents’ cabin.”
“That’s still happening?”
She checked me with a no-nonsense look. “Of course. It’s an institution. Christmas with the old crew from college. You’ll forget all about this pity party the second we land.”
“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” I forced a small laugh.
I wanted to be excited. I wanted to feel that spark Liv had in her, the anticipation, the fun.
But I couldn’t stop the ghosts of Ethan, Miles and Adrian tugging at me.
I’d walked out without explanation, without saying goodbye.
I could still see the stunned hurt on Ethan’s face when I turned away from him outside Fenway church.
Raucous laughter split the moment, and Liv grabbed my hand, the tray of snacks precariously clutched in the other. “Let’s get back in there.”
By the time we returned, the group had reorganized on the floor in front of the couch, forming a loose circle. Jonathan had proposed a game of “Never Have I Ever,” and a bottle of vodka was already making the rounds.
“Get your asses in here,” he said, waving us over. The circle gave way, and we took our spots. Liv amped with excitement, me shaking in my boots, as it were.
These games had a reputation for unearthing things that shouldn’t be unearthed.
The first few prompts were lighthearted: “Never have I ever eaten dessert for breakfast,” “Never have I ever bitten my toenails.” Laughter rippled around the circle, easy and warm.
As I predicted, though, it quickly became more risqué, and the room devolved into hoots, mock-shaming, and playful teasing. Liv kept launching sly looks my way, egging me on to be more daring. I replied with an innocent shrug.
No way was any of my daring stories safe for this environment. Maybe in private, with her, but I was fine to keep this party PG.
“Never have I ever hooked up with someone of the same sex.” Jonathan looked right at Liv and me, a devilish gleam in his eye.
We looked at each other, cocked our heads, and both took a drink. The group lost it, loudly clutching their pearls and laughing, while Jonathan kept repeating ‘I knew it’ over and over.
“It was our freshman year at college, okay,” Liv tried to explain through brightly flushed cheeks. “We were young. Everyone does it.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me,” Jonathan said. “I thought I knew everything about you.”
“Well, apparently you do know everything.” I nudged him with my elbow. “That prompt was locked and loaded. I could see it in your eyes.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Can’t lie. I’ve had my suspicions.”
“Maren…” Liv poked me with the empty bottle.
“Refill. Got it.” My head felt like it weighed twice as much as usual as I struggled to my feet, swaying a little before attempting the first step toward the kitchen.
Just as I reached the door, there was a hard knock that sent my heart lurching.
Behind me, calls of ‘Cops!’ and ‘Hide the weed!’ floated over more laughter.
I shook my head, straightening my dress as I focused on putting one steady foot in front of the other to reach the damn door without face-planting.
Another knock came just as I put my hand on the knob to open it, and then everything stopped.
Ethan.
Standing there with his hand mid-knock, framed by the light from the hallway. Looking like he hadn’t slept in days. But who was I kidding? Still as handsome as ever. His hair was tousled just slightly, a darker shadow on his usually neat stubble, and those blue-gray eyes…
I swallowed hard to steel myself against the searching storm in them. “Ethan?”
The living room went deathly silent. Or maybe I’d lost my ability to hear anything that wasn’t my heart pounding in my ears.
“I’m here to bring you back home,” he said simply.