Kait #2
We folded Micah into the chaos, handing him salad making duties. He regaled us with stories of dorm pranks and a disastrous group project where his partner thought "algorithm" was a type of dance move. I laughed until my sides hurt, the wine loosening the knots in my chest.
The door opened again, this time with Jack sauntering in like he owned the place. Jack was the charmer, the one with the dimples and the easy smile that got him out of detention more times than I could count. He was pre-law now, at some fancy university, but he still had that high school swagger.
"Ladies and gents, the party's here!" he announced, dropping his duffel and spreading his arms wide.
"Jack, you ego-maniac," I teased, but let him pull me into a bear hug. He smelled like expensive cologne and mischief.
"Kait, looking hot as ever. College treating you right?"
"Better than it treated you in high school chem," I shot back. Jack had famously blown up a beaker during a lab, earning him the nickname "Boom Boom" for a semester.
He winced dramatically. "Low blow. But fair."
Jack jumped right in, stealing a carrot stick and flirting shamelessly with Beth, who rolled her eyes but blushed anyway. They had this on-again, off-again flirtation that never went anywhere, but it was entertaining as hell.
Finally, Hope arrived, fashionably late as always. She was the planner, the one who'd organized this whole trip via a color-coded Google Doc. Her dark hair was sleek, her outfit perfectly coordinated—wool coat, boots, scarf—like she'd stepped out of a J.Crew catalog.
"Sorry, sorry! Flight delay from Boston," she said, wheeling in her suitcase. Hope was in business school, interning at some startup that sounded way too adult for our age.
We all mobbed her with hugs, and soon the cabin was alive with seven voices overlapping.
Ainsley cranked up the holiday playlist—Mariah Carey belting out about all she wanted for Christmas—while Pete checked on the roast in the oven.
Beth and Micah argued over the best way to mash potatoes (lumpy vs.
smooth, a debate as old as time), and Jack tried to sneak extra wine into everyone's glasses.
I found myself at the island counter, stirring gravy while catching up with Hope. "So, how's the internship? Saving the corporate world one spreadsheet at a time?"
She laughed, sipping her drink. "It's intense, but good. Pays the bills. What about you? Still writing that novel in your spare time?"
I shrugged, a flush creeping up my neck. "Kinda. It's more like fanfic at this point. But yeah, dreaming of being the next Nora Roberts."
"You totally could be," Ainsley chimed in from across the kitchen. "Your stories in high school lit class were epic."
"Remember that one about the pirate and the princess?" Beth added. "Steamy as hell."
I groaned. "Please don't remind me. I was sixteen and obsessed with bodice-rippers.”
“Me too.” Jack echoes.
The conversation flowed like the wine—easy, teasing, full of inside jokes.
We reminisced about high school pranks, like the time Jack and Micah hacked the PA system to play Rick Astley during assembly.
Or when Ainsley and Pete got caught making out in the janitor's closet.
Beth shared her latest art project, a series of portraits inspired by our group, and promised to show us sketches later.
As dinner cooked, filling the air with savory goodness, we migrated to the living room for snacks—cheese boards that Ainsley had artfully arranged. Pete built up the fire, and we sprawled on the couches, legs tangled under blankets.
"So, who's missing?" Micah asked innocently, though his eyes twinkled.
My stomach dropped. Don't say it. Don’t say it.
"Josh," Jack said casually, like he was mentioning the weather. "I invited him, as usual. Said he might make it happen."
The room went a tad quieter. Josh. My ex.
The one who'd broken my heart when he decided long-distance wasn't his thing after he went off to college out west. We'd been the "it" couple for a hot minute—homecoming dates, stolen kisses in the hallways.
But then poof, ghosted. Well, not totally ghosted; he kept in touch with Jack, because bros before. .. whatever.
Ainsley shot me a sympathetic look. "He probably won't come. He's been flaky every year."
"Yeah," I said brightly, forcing a smile. "No biggie. More food and wine for us."
But inside? Turmoil. Part of me hoped he wouldn't show—avoid the awkwardness. The other part? The stupid, romantic part that read too many novels? Wondered what if.
We shook it off, diving back into dinner prep. I was elbow-deep in adding to the salad that was abandoned when headlights pierced the windows. The snow had picked up, swirling like confetti in the beams.
Everyone froze. Whispers started.
"Is that...?"
"Could be Josh."
My heart hammered. Ainsley peeked out the curtain. "One car. Black SUV."
Jack grinned. "Told ya he might come."
Beth nudged me. "You okay?"
I nodded, but my mouth was dry. The engine cut off. Footsteps crunched on the snow.
The door creeking open as if it’s a slow-motion.
Here we go.