“What’s a home wrecker?” asked a squeaky voice.
Emma slammed the freezer shut to see Colin and his giant retriever standing in the kitchen. “Oh, hey. I didn’t see you there.”
He grinned. “I saw you. What’s a home wrecker?”
Shit, this kid wasn’t gonna let it go. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
“I’m seven and Mom says I’m old for my age,” Colin snapped back.
“Yeah, old enough to watch Game of Thrones, apparently,” Emma muttered to herself, trying to push past Hodor who was eyeing her with distrust.
A huge smile lit Colin’s face. “Game of Thrones is my favorite show in the whole world! How did you know that?”
Emma shrugged. “Your dog’s name is Hodor.”
“His full name is Hodor Targaryen,” Colin replied proudly.
Emma cocked her head to the side. As a huge fan of the show, she couldn’t let that go. “Um, you know Hodor’s not a Targaryen, right?”
“Actually,” Colin objected. “Hodor’s origin is unknown and I prefer to think that he was adopted by House Stark at the request of Ned’s sister, Lyanna, who secretly wed a Targaryen.”
“Wow,” Emma said, equally impressed and worried by Colin’s beyond obsessive knowledge of a show that was entirely too violent for a seven-year-old. “And Tara’s cool with you watching such a graphic show?” Emma asked.
“You’re saying her name wrong. It’s pronounced Tar-ah, just like Tar-garyen,” Colin corrected. “And yes. Mom lets me do whatever I want.”
Emma rolled her eyes. She hated spoiled kids almost as much as she hated the way everyone pronounced Tar-ah’s name. It was like they were trying to make her sound classy and mysterious, but she would always be the home wrecking tramp from South Carolina that broke up her parents and ruined Emma’s world.
“Whatever,” Emma muttered, stomping past Colin and Hodor. All she wanted was to be alone, but since she didn’t have a room to hide out in, she settled for plunking herself on the uncomfortable white couch. Her plan was to drown her sorrows in a mind-numbing Netflix binge. That was if she could find the damn television remote.
Emma searched the blank surfaces of the ridiculously modern glass furniture to no avail, and to make matters worse, Colin couldn’t take a hint. He followed her around the living room so closely he was practically her shadow.
“Wanna come play in my room?” he asked. “I can teach you how to speak Dothraki.”
“No. I want to watch TV.”
“Cool. I like TV.” Colin parked himself on the couch and Hodor curled up at his feet. “Penelope, television on.”
Emma jumped when the television came to life. “How’d you do that?”
“It’s a smart house,” Colin replied. “You just tell Penelope what you want her to do.”
If only Penelope could make annoying seven-year-olds disappear, Emma thought bitterly.
“Whatcha wanna watch?” Colin asked. “Dad gets all the channels.”
Emma stilled. “What did you say?” Did this brat actually call her father, Dad?
“We have all the channels,” Colin said loud and slow. “Just tell Penelope what you want to watch.”
“What I want,” Emma scathed. “Is to watch TV alone.”
“Oh.” Colin looked crestfallen as he slid off the couch. “I’ll be in my room.”
Emma almost felt bad as she watched him mope down the hall. But as he disappeared into the bedroom that should’ve been hers, her guilt evaporated. It wasn’t her job to babysit Colin. He could call her father whatever he wanted, but that didn’t make Colin her brother. Where the hell was her father, anyway?
Emma had been home for almost an hour and there was no sign of him or home wrecker. Did they really leave Colin home alone? Sure he was witty for a seven-year-old, but he was still just a kid. Her parents would’ve never left her alone at that age.
Two thoughts swept over Emma and both made her heart sink. Either her father and Tara had just assumed Emma would babysit Colin, or they forgot about the little boy as easily as they’d forgotten about Emma. Whatever the answer, Emma was back to feeling guilty for how she’d treated Colin. He was bratty and annoying, but none of this was his fault. And sadly, Emma wasn’t sure how to make it up to him. It’s not like she could be expected to know how to be a sister overnight.
She let out a groan and wrapped herself in the white blanket she’d found on the back of the couch. Cyber Penelope turned on a cheesy Christmas movie at Emma’s command, and she fell into a restless sleep as she wondered how the hell her life had gotten so screwed up.
10
Will
Will looked like he’d lost a fight with his mattress when he woke up the next morning. His thick dark hair was sticking up in every direction and his gray t-shirt was disheveled. He hadn’t slept well and he knew the reason why—women.
Between trying to get Liz to leave after dinner and spending the rest of the night messaging Emma, Will was beyond frustrated. He kept reliving their near mistletoe moment. He hadn’t been able to get Emma out of his head last night. And sadly, it seemed today would be no different.
Will quickly hopped in the shower to wash away the remains of his restless night, but he knew he would be left with the look of hurt he’d seen smoldering in Emma’s eyes before she stormed off last night. And the worst part was, if the elevator doors had opened five seconds later, he would’ve been kissing Emma, and probably had a restless night for an entirely different reason.
Scrubbing his hair vigorously, Will wished he were taking a cold shower for the usual reasons, rather than to calm the anger that was bubbling inside of him. How could he be this stupid? He was supposed to be over Emma by now. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t go down this road again. She’d hurt him enough.
If anyone had the right to be pissed, it was Will. Emma was the one who stood him up at the winter formal last year. She should be the one left wanting for a change. But it seemed Emma would forever be the one shutting Will down.
He stood under the cold water for as long as he could take, but it didn’t help. His mind kept wandering back to their almost kiss. He still had no idea how things had gone from perfect to poisonous in under five seconds and it was driving him insane.
Will cranked off the faucet and toweled his hair dry while throwing together an overnight bag for Cranston’s, along with a shirt and tie—a prerequisite for any Cranston soiree. Next he donned jeans, a t-shirt and light blue sweater. The sweater was an early Christmas gift from his mother, just one more sign she probably wasn’t coming home for the holidays. At least she’d gotten the color right—Glacier blue, the exact shade of Will’s eyes.
He glanced in the mirror and winked at his reflection. He’d perfected looking like a million bucks even when his heart felt like road kill. He put on his game face, determined not to let his parents or Emma ruin his day. Maybe if he could just avoid Emma until the party tonight they would both be calm enough to have a civil discussion. Because despite how many times Will told himself he was over her, he knew it wasn’t true. And it never would be until he found out what the hell happened last year.
Emma
Emma woke with a start. Something wet coated her face as the room filled with noise. She opened her eyes, pinpointing the something wet as Hodor’s slober. His panting tongue was inches from her face and Colin was standing next to him wearing Batman pajamas, cowboy boots and a ridiculous smile.
“Morning, Emma. Wanna watch cartoons with us?”
Emma rubbed her eyes groggily and looked around. “Us?”
“Me and Hodor.”
“What time is it?”
Colin shrugged, but then shouted to the room. “Penelope. What time is it?”
“The time is 6:11 am, eastern standard time,” the disembodied female voice replied.
Emma growled and pulled her blanket over her head.
“What cartoons do you like?” Colin asked, poking her in the shoulder.
&n
bsp; “The kind that don’t start until noon,” she grumbled.
Colin laughed. “You’re funny.”
Emma felt him nestle next to her feet on the couch and she lost all hope that he would leave if she ignored him long enough. Colin settled on something called ‘The Loud House’, which was quickly living up to its name. Emma flung off her covers, grabbed her cell phone and stomped to the bathroom.
“Might as well start my day,” she mumbled to herself.
A hot shower and fresh clothes did help improve her mood. Emma was just adding the finishing touches to her hair and makeup while rocking out to her divas playlist on Spotify when she got a Snapchat notification. She clicked on it and her heart dropped. It was a photo of Liz and Will from last night. Liz was sitting entirely too close and feeding him pasta. The caption over the photo read: MINE.
Emma clicked on Liz’s story. It was filled with photos of her and Will from last night. She knew she shouldn’t look, but she couldn’t stop herself and each new caption was like a punch to the gut.
DINNER WITH BOO, was the caption over the same pasta feeding pic Liz had sent directly to Emma. SNUGGLES, was typed over a pic of feet under a blanket. And the nail in the coffin was a photo of Will’s lips poised for a kiss. Liz’s perfectly manicured red claws were on either side of his lips and the caption read, THIS FACE IS PERFECTION.
Suddenly Emma felt ill. How had she been so stupid? She’d been seconds away from kissing Will yesterday. And she couldn’t believe she’d spent the whole night tossing and turning over him. She’d actually felt bad about storming off after seeing Liz. Emma had let herself believe that maybe she’d overreacted and should give Will a chance to explain. But Liz’s pictures did all the explaining Emma needed. Will was still the same sleaze ball he’d always been, and apparently Emma was the same sappy moron, ready to fall for him again.
11
Will
At breakfast, Sharon begged Will for what felt like the millionth time to let her order one of those plastic pre-decorated Christmas trees for the house.
“We’re Taylors. We do not put imposter Christmas trees in this house,” Will said imitating his father’s booming voice.
“William, can you please be serious?”
“I am serious, Sharon. This is probably my last Christmas at home. And I’m not going to be the first Taylor in history to break our holiday tradition.”
“I’m not suggesting you break tradition, hun. If your parents get home in time you can still go chop down your perfect Christmas tree and drag it back here.”
Will waved her off. “Then we’d have two trees.”
“So, what’s wrong with that? Lord knows this house is big enough for a dozen trees.”
“We don’t need two trees. One perfect tree from Emmerich Tree Farm is just fine.”
“I just don’t want you to be disappointed,” Sharon argued, topping off Will’s coffee.
“I won’t. They’ll be here, Sharon. I know my parents have been MIA lately, but they wouldn’t miss Christmas.”
Sharon shook her head at his stubbornness and muttered something under her breath. “I’m going to the market today. Any special requests?”
“No thanks. And I won’t be home for dinner tonight, so don’t worry about making me anything.”
“And where will you be going?” Sharon asked, in a more motherly tone than Will’s actual mother ever managed.
“Cranston’s.”
“Parker Cranston?”
Will nodded.
Sharon clucked her tongue with disapproval. “That boy is trouble. Don’t let him drag you into any.”
“Yes, Mom,” Will mocked, giving Sharon a quick peck on the cheek as he grabbed an apple and retreated from the kitchen before she could continue her rant.
It’s not that Sharon didn’t have a point. Parker Cranston’s reputation as Manhattan’s millionaire party boy wasn’t without merit. But he and Will had been friends since their overpriced preschool days.
It was true that Cranston had gotten Will into his fair share of trouble over the years, but he always got him out. That was one of the many benefits of being Cranston’s friend. Another was his lavish parties. And Will was sure tonight would be no exception.
Will shrugged on a coat and shined the crisp green apple on his blue sweater as he walked down the hallway toward the elevator. He knew the party wouldn’t be starting for hours, but he figured he’d head over to Cranston’s anyway. There was always a group of his buddies hanging around the hotel suite pre-gaming and playing video games. Neither were really Will’s preferred hobbies, but it beat sitting around his house alone all day.
He’d just taken a big bite out of his apple when Emma emerged into the hallway like an apparition. She was dressed in winter white from head to toe and her blonde hair cascaded down her back. She looked so beautiful Will stopped short. He must’ve forgotten how to chew too because he started to choke on his bite of apple.
Emma turned, seeming startled to find Will staring at her. When her surprise passed, it was replaced with an angry glare.
“Stalk much?” she muttered.
“I’m not stalking you.”
“Oh really? What do they call hiding out in the hallway these days?”
“I’m not hiding.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Good morning to you, too,” Will snapped.
“Is it a good morning, Will?”
“It was.”
“Well good for you,” Emma snarled, making her way to the elevator without waiting for Will.
He tried to shake off her rudeness. Emma had never been a morning person, but this was ridiculous. Just get her to the party, he reminded himself.
“So,” Will began, hoping to start over. “What are you up to today?”
“None of your business.”
“Shit, Emma. Are you ever gonna tell me what I did to piss you off? Or are you just gonna hold it against me forever?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes!”
The elevator dinged and the doors yawned wide, stretching out the tension between them. Emma was the first to move. She blew out a breath of frustration and marched onto the elevator.
Will followed closely behind her. “Well? Do I get an explanation?”
Emma huffed. “Why don’t you ask Liz?”
“Because I’m asking you.”
Emma crossed her arms stubbornly. It was Will’s turn to sigh. Emma had a stubborn stream as long as the Hudson River. If she didn’t want to tell him why she was pissed he knew he should just drop it. Even if everything inside him was screaming not to.
Will decided to change tactics. If he could make Emma laugh maybe it would help break the iceberg forming between them. He glanced up at the mistletoe that seemed to be mocking him. He nudged Emma lightly with his elbow and nodded to the presumptuous plant. “We keep finding ourselves here.”
“So?”
“Maybe it’s a sign.”
“If you think I’m going to kiss you, you’re an even bigger idiot than I gave you credit for.”
“I’d settle for an awkward high-five,” Will suggested, raising one hand in the air.
Emma left him hanging. The elevator doors dinged open again, and before Will could say anything else, a little old lady decked out in a fur coat that matched her tiny dog got on. They all rode the elevator in silence to the lobby. Will practically had to chase Emma down once she exited the lift. He caught up to her on the street where she was hailing a cab.
“So I’ll see you tonight?” Will asked trying to mask the hope in his voice.
“Tonight?”
“Cranston’s party.”
“I’m not going to that.”
“I thought we were going together?”
Emma laughed, but there was no joy in it. “I’m not going to that party with you. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Will’s patience finally snapped. “Why?” he shouted.
He
was done playing this game. It had gone on long enough and it was getting him nowhere. If Emma was ready to throw him away he was damn sure not going down without a fight. “What the hell did I do, Emma?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Will raked his hands through his damp hair in frustration. “Obviously it does.”
“Maybe it did, but not anymore.”
A cab pulled up and Emma started to pull the door open, but Will slammed it shut. “Emma, can you just talk to me?”
“About what?”
“How about why you’re so eager to throw us away?”
“There is no us, Will.”
“Really? Ten years of friendship means nothing to you? We were best friends, Emma. And you just left like it was nothing.”
Tears were pooling in Emma’s green eyes and Will reached up to brush them away but she pushed him back.
“Don’t,” she snapped.
“Just tell me why, Emma.”
“Get it through your head, Will. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want this stupid holiday to be over so I can go back to forgetting about you.” She yanked open the cab door. “And if you really want to know why it’s so easy for me to walk away, why don’t you ask Liz?” Then Emma got in the cab, slammed the door and was gone.
Will watched the yellow cab until it disappeared into the busy Manhattan traffic. He felt like his heart had been slammed in the cab door and run over by every car that sped past. He gulped down cold breaths of air trying to regain his composure. He was grateful he hadn’t eaten a big breakfast, because his stomach was tying itself in knots. Will wasn’t used to fighting with people, especially not his friends. And having pissed off a friend for an unknown reason was it’s own particular brand of torture. But Will planned on ending this feud tonight. If Liz knew why Emma was so determined to think the worst of him then he was damn sure going to confront her about it at Cranston’s party.
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