Just for Fun (The Holidates #44)

Chapter 1

ONE

Zara

I hate people who are chronically late to everything. My brother is one of those people, and this is the third time this month that he’s left me waiting after he was the one who chose the time of our get together.

As a rule, I have lunch with my brother once a week. We normally go to the same restaurant, always at the same time. But after him being late the last two times, we agreed that it would be better if we met an hour later than the usual. And he’s still not here.

I tap my fingers on the table while looking at the clock on the wall for what has to be the tenth time in just as many seconds. Anxiety threatens to take over my entire body the longer that I wait as my knee now bounces under the table.

“Are you ready to order, miss?” the bubbly young waitress asks.

I pick up the menu, perusing it blindly while knowing perfectly well that I will order the same as always. Just as I open my mouth to tell her what I want, the table moves a bit when my brother drops in the seat across from me.

“Hey, I made it!”

I can tell from the happy tone that he really thinks he this is acceptable.

“I’ll take a root beer,” he tells the waitress. “And I’ll have a burger, everything on it, fries on the side.” He then points at me. “She’ll have a grilled chicken sandwich, on rye bread, with lettuce only on it. No butter on the bun. A pickle on the side.”

The waitress smiles and nods as she writes down our orders. “Great, I’ll be back with your drink, and it shouldn’t take long for the food.” She grabs the menus and disappears.

My knee still bounces under the table and irritation takes over the longer I stare at my brother.

“It’s really great of you to show up on time, Owen.”

The smile drops off my brother’s face. “It was only seven minutes. I was on a call this morning. I rushed here as soon as I got back to the station.”

My jaw hurts from the tension when I clench my teeth in an effort to not lash out at him.

I should be more understanding considering what he does for a living.

He is a fireman, working for the local station.

His schedule is unpredictable, and I am lucky that he is able to get here when he does.

But I can’t help myself. I can’t deal with people being late, or, God forbid, canceling their plans on me.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say, but he knows I don’t mean it.

“Z,” he sighs. I can actually feel his disappointment in me.

I hate it. “I know how you feel about all your routines, and that you hate me being late. But this was completely out of my control.” He opens his arms wide.

“I would’ve rushed here straight from the call, but I don’t think you would’ve appreciated the smell from the fire… ”

It's like he’s trying to shame me for being upset about him being late while he was out there literally saving lives.

“You know why,” I start.

“It’s been twenty-one years, Zara.” Pity is now obvious in his tone. “You need to get professional help, babe. And I truly mean it.”

I cross my arms over my chest in a defensive move. “I don’t know why it’s so bad that I like punctuality.”

“It’s not just about that,” he laughs. “It’s about everything. We have lunch once a week, but it has to be on a Wednesday. Changing the regular time felt like a life making decision.”

I look away because what he says is true, and maintaining eye contact is uncomfortable.

“You can’t make any plans outside the routine you set for yourself,” Owen continues.

“If something unexpected happens at your work, it throws your entire life apart. And God forbid someone asked you out. You act like they’re about to kidnap you and sell you off to a sex ring.

All my friends are scared to death of approaching you, just in case you’d want to immediately file for a restraining order shortly after they said hello to you. ”

My eyes widen in shock at everything that he says.

“That is so not true,” I argue. “I have plenty of spontaneity in my life, Owen!”

He only rolls his eyes at me. “You buying a miniature cactus from the checkout lane at the mini mart doesn’t count, Zara. And it’s taking everything in me not to laugh at you even considering it.”

“Just because I love routine, and peace and order in my life, it doesn’t mean I am a bad person.”

“No one is saying you’re a bad person,” he sighs again. “But you giving me grief over being late has got to stop.” He leans forward in his seat, stretching his arm across the table. “I am not late on purpose, Z.”

I place my hand into his and drop my head in shame.

“I’m really sorry,” I tell him. “Dad used to do this to us, and I…” I pause, unsure of how to continue.

Our father left our mother when I was five and Owen was eight. He promised that him not living with us would not affect our relationship going forward. He made good on his promise for the first six months. That’s when he decided to marry the woman he had been cheating on my mother with.

Owen and I became a burden, and every time after that when he promised he’d come pick us up for dinner, he would never show.

Then, he’d call hours later, with a long story about why he hadn’t been able to make it.

Once he and his new wife had kids of their own, we never got any more promises or even phone calls.

Without realizing, I fell into a routine.

Anything that didn’t fit the mold would unbalance me and cause me anxiety.

My mother tried to pull me out of it. In the end, despite her best efforts, nothing changed, so she figured it was better to let me be.

After all, I was healthy and happy, and that’s all that mattered.

I do have to admit that as an adult, the way I am stuck in my ways can be cumbersome at times.

I do want to do things that would bring me out of my self-imposed shell, but then I always change my mind at the last minute.

I experimented with dating, but none of the guys I tried a relationship with could understand why routine was very important to me.

They found me boring, maybe even slightly annoying, and moved on.

“One of the guys is throwing a July Fourth party,” Owen comments as he pretends like I didn’t freeze in the middle of a sentence.

“It’ll be at the lake. I’m going.” He watches my face, waiting for my reaction.

“You’re invited as well should you choose to go.

” The tone of his voice implies that he doesn’t expect me to accept the invitation.

“But we always go to spend the holiday weekends with mom,” I remind him before clearing my voice.

Owen waves my worries away. “Mom’s good with us skipping. I already talked to her about it.” He smirks at me in the most adorable way, reminding me of the cute boy he used to be when we were kids. “I think she was relieved, to be honest.”

My eyes widen in shock. “What are you talking about? Mom is always happy that we go there for each holiday.”

My brother shrugs and glances around the restaurant. “She mentioned her friends putting a party together…”

“For the Fourth of July weekend?” My voice comes out really squeaky, mostly from the shock. “She knows we’re going there.”

Owen shrugs like he’s got no worries in the world. “She decided that we should switch it up this year.”

“ We ?” My mouth goes dry, and I can barely form words anymore. “Who’s we?”

My brother watches me thoughtfully for a few very long seconds. There is something in his eyes that looks like pity, but then it disappears in the blink of an eye. It is now replaced with determination, which only serves to confuse me more.

“That would be her, me, and, well, you.”

I hear what he’s telling me, and I even understand the underlining message. But panic still decides to settle in.

“I’ve always gone back home for every holiday, Owen.” My voice trembles, and I hate myself for it. “What am I supposed to do now? Just sit at home by myself?”

His eyebrows go up in surprise. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

“Of course not,” I rush to assure him. “But it’s always the three of us. The two of us and mom,” I further explain. “What if she gets lonely?”

That was a fear of mine during those first six months when our father did make an effort and picked us up once in a while. Mom would cry at the handovers, which in turn made me cry as well. Owen, who was older, sat there stoic, with a small travel bag by his feet.

The entire experience only served to convince me that I never want to get married or have children. I would die if I had a child that I would have to send away for days, unsure if their father even cared to take proper care of them.

“Mom is not going to get lonely,” Owen assures me. “She is going to be with her friends, remember?”

I frown at the reminder. “What friends are these anyway? Taking her away from her family like this.”

My voice shakes a bit toward the end, and I have to blink rapidly before tears run down my face. I feel way more emotional than I should be in this instance.

“It’s not like she’s skipping Christmas, for God’s sake.” Owen rolls his eyes at me. “It’s a summer party. She was invited and she wants to go. Alone ,” he emphasizes.

Things still don’t make sense to me. “But why?”

Owen opens his mouth to speak but then pauses when the waitress approaches our table with the plates of food and the drinks.

She places everything in front of us, smiling from ear to ear, especially at my brother.

I roll my eyes at how obvious her interest is, and I have to bite my tongue before I actually give her his phone number, just so that she can go and we can eat in peace.

I watch Owen as he winks at her right before placing the top of the bun over his burger. He picks it up and takes the biggest bite of out of it.

“This is great,” he tells her.

I clear my throat to remind her of my presence. She jumps in place, like she really had forgotten about me. She gives me a guilty look which I meet with an attitude.