It took me forever to decide on my dark wash jeggings and an oversized sweater that I’ve cinched in with a belt. I must have tried ten different outfits. Now I’m glad I took the time.
I toy with my long necklace, suddenly self-conscious. The last time Kyle and I spent Thanksgiving together, it was unseasonably warm. I wore shorts, a tank top, and flip flops, and Kyle was in his usual.
Now we seem grown-up. Like adults. I mean, we are adults. But it feels different—more somehow.
Or maybe I’m just tired and reading too much into things.
“You don’t know what?” he asks, prompting me to finish the question I was asking when he took me by surprise.
“Oh, right.” I wave him in. “I don’t know what to bring your mother.”
“I have flowers in the car.”
I blink at him. “Where did you get them?”
“Don’t be angry.”
Setting my hands on my hips, I pretend to scowl. “You got them from the grocery store, didn’t you?”
He gives me a sheepish grin. “It’s the only place open. Obviously, I would have much rather gotten them from you.”
That’s it. We’ve entered some weird wormhole, and this is an alternate-reality Kyle. A Kyle who dresses up like we’re on a date and picks up flowers for us to give his mother together. He’s always been sweet, but this is so cozy it almost hurts.
“I got your mom some too,” he adds.
“Okay, well…” I walk inside to grab my purse. “I guess we’re all set.”
* * *
“Kaylee!” Tamara exclaims when I walk in the door with her son. The brunette-haired, always-smiling woman crosses the room, abandoning the vegetable tray she’s putting together. She pulls me into a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you, honey.”
I hug her back, laughing, deciding against reminding her I saw her two days ago at the grocery store. I know what she means.
“Thank you for having me,” I say.
When she lets me go, Kyle hands her the chrysanthemum plant we brought. The pot is wrapped in festive autumn foil and tied with a brown twine ribbon. I’ll admit it’s adorable. Another one, in a different color, waits in his Jeep for my mom.
“Oh, it’s lovely!” Tamara exclaims, clutching it to her chest. “What a pretty centerpiece it will make!”
She then bustles off to the dining room, presumably to put the flowers in their place.
Bailey, Kyle’s younger sister, waves at us from the couch, where she and her father are watching the parade. “Kaylee! Mom made your cheesecake.”
She’s thirteen years old, ten years younger than Kyle and me, and one of my favorite people in the world. I used to babysit her when she was little. The last time I did Thanksgiving with the family, she was only eight.
I greet both her and Kyle’s dad, Rich, and then follow Kyle into the kitchen, looking for food. Several of Kyle’s aunts and uncles, his grandparents, and half a dozen of his cousins trickle in, making it loud and crazy.
The day goes quickly, with us bouncing between Kyle’s family and mine, filled with way too much food. In the evening, Kyle and I end up back at his parents’ house, on one of the couches in the living room, tucked under the side window and out of the way.
While other people watch football and browse the Black Friday ads, Kyle and I look over the list.
“I think you can cross out the Thanksgiving one,” Kyle says.
“And the bacon.”
“I’m not done with bacon.” He pops a jalapeno popper—complete with crumbled bacon on top—into his mouth after he says it.
“I see it’s becoming a problem for you,” I tease, crossing out the line anyway. “But I think it’s safe to say you’ve accomplished this one. If you want to be an overachiever, that’s your choice.”
“You really should add the speed dating thing to it,” he says. “Since I got roped into going anyway.”
Resisting the urge to growl, I add it as Number Twenty-six, pressing a little harder into the napkin than necessary. I accidentally tear a tiny bit of the tissue paper.
I browse the rest of the items, and my eyes catch on Spend more time with Kaylee. We’ve certainly accomplished that lately, but I see no reason to cross it out.
“I bought a bike.” He takes the pen to cross it out himself.
“So…what’s next?” I ask.
“The lunar eclipse isn’t until February, and it’s the wrong time of year for some of these. I guess that means speed dating is next.”
“Or you could get a pet.”
“I don’t know, Kaylee. Do you think I’m home enough for one?”
Kyle works long hours, and he’s sometimes gone overnight. I’d love for him to get a dog, because the little allergen producer would be insurance against Ava’s return, but he has a point.
“We’ll cross that one out for now.” Then I ask the question I’ve been dreading, “When is the speed dating thing?”
Kyle raises his brows, silently laughing at my tone. “Next Friday.”
That soon?
“You can’t honestly think this is a good idea.”
Maybe it’s the way I say it that tips him off, or perhaps he’s more perceptive than I’ve ever given him credit for, but he narrows his eyes slightly, studying me. I resist the urge to squirm under his gaze. After a few seconds, he says, “Maybe I’ll meet someone.”
“Maybe you’ll meet Sally,” I mutter, and then I hide a yawn behind my hand.
“Someone has stayed up past her bedtime.”
“We should go. June is opening the shop at five.” I rest my head against the couch. “So I have to be there at four.”
“Who shops for flowers at five in the morning?”
“Insane people looking for Christmas greenery. For the next few weeks, I’m going to be making wreaths until my fingers bleed.”
“What time do you have to get up?”
“Three, and I didn’t sleep well last night, so I’m already exhausted.”
“Why didn’t you sleep?” he asks.
Because I was dreaming that you declared your love for me in the middle of the English countryside.
“Savannah and I stayed up late watching a British miniseries.”
He cringes. “That sounds awful.”
I turn my head to look at him, and memories of the dream trickle back. “No, it was good.”
Instead of pressing the issue, he gives my knee a light smack. “All right, Sleeping Beauty. Let’s get you to bed.”
The words are innocent, but they still hit me like a bolt of lightning. I clear my throat and leap to my feet, hoping Kyle doesn’t realize where my mind wandered.
We say goodbye to his family. Hugs are doled out, and his mom makes me promise that I won’t “be a stranger.” She then sends me home with several slices of my cheesecake.
Just before nine, Kyle pulls his Jeep in front of my house. Savannah’s car is gone. She must be at my parents’ still. Who knows—maybe she’s finally gotten Heath’s attention.
I flip on the lights as we walk inside, toss my purse on the counter, and put the cheesecake in the refrigerator. When I look back, I find Kyle lingering by the door.
“You okay?” I ask him.
“Yeah.” He forces a smile, but it looks tired.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he says immediately. “It was an awesome day.”
Pressing my lips together, I study him. “And maybe you feel guilty that you had a good time?”
“A little,” he admits.
“Kyle,” I say softly. “This isn’t your fault—this was Ava’s choice. You have nothing to feel bad about.”
He meets my eyes, and his expression becomes warmer. He holds out his arms. “You have an early morning. I need to go so you can get some sleep.”
I step into him, accepting the hug. I want to lean against him, breathe him in, hold him tightly, and beg him to stay for just a little longer. I do none of those things.
Too soon, Kyle pulls away. We say our goodbyes, and I brace myself against the door after he’s gone. It was an almost perfect day—the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in years. I should be happy, grateful even, but I can’t help but wish the evening had ended just a little differently.
9
The holidays pass in a blur. Kyle doesn’t bring up the list again, and neither do I. Speed dating got postponed—apparently, too many people had holiday plans filling up that weekend, so the woman organizing the event decided to reschedule it after New Year’s.
You might wonder how I know this. Well…I signed up. I’ve been dreading it ever since, and now the day has come.
I stand in front of my bathroom mirror, frowning at my meticulously curled hair, wondering how carried away I should get for this sort of thing.
Kyle doesn’t know I’m going yet, but there’s no way I’m letting him attend alone. Who knows what kind of harpy would try to sink her talons into my best friend? Those desperate ladies will see him coming from a mile away. They’ll be screeching dibs before he walks through the door.
(By the way, this move is purely altruistic on my part. I’m going to protect him. Selfless of me, right?)
My stomach churns as I lean over the counter and swipe a touch more smoky eyeshadow across my eyelids. When I’m finished, I face the full-length mirror and study my reflection.
I chose a red dress, which is accented by a thin teal belt. It’s flattering and tasteful, tapering in at my waist, and the hem lands just above my knees. The outfit is complemented by a pair of teal stilettos that have been languishing in my closet for almost two years. I’ve never had the right opportunity to wear them. They’re statement heels. Confident heels. Look-at-me heels. Kyle-please-notice-me heels.
I swipe another coat of mascara on my lashes, take an antacid for my queasy stomach, and walk out the door.
* * *
“I had to eat boxed mac and cheese for a month, but I bought that fifth guitar,” an interesting fellow by the name of Lance says from way too close. He’s crowded me into a literal corner, right next to the restrooms, and he reeks of cheap cologne. “And I was able to pull my acoustic out of pawn last month.”
He has those gigantic spacer things in his ears. They’re creepy as can be, and I can’t help but gape at them, wondering why a person would do such a thing. It’s as I’m standing here, trying to plan my escape, that I wonder if coming tonight was a huge mistake.
The community center conference room is humid from the indoor pool, and it smells faintly of chlorine. I’m sure my hair is already starting to frizz.
“Oh, that’s…great.” I force a smile for Lance while silently begging the director—a gray-haired lady by the name of Val—to get this show on the road. It should be anytime now. Anytime.
Lance nods and takes a long sip from his red disposable cup. It’s supposed to be lemonade in the punch bowl, but I have suspicions that he spiked it.
“You sure you don’t want nothing to drink?” he asks, too eager. “You seem, like, totally tense.”
“I do?” I force a laugh, desperately looking at the door when it opens. It’s a pair of women in their forties—not Kyle.
If he changed his mind, the two of us will be having words…
“You know, I give a super sweet neck massage.” My unwanted companion leans close enough I can smell the drink on his breath. Yep, not just lemonade. “I’ve been told I have magic hands.”
“Kyle!” I yelp when I see my best friend walk in behind the two women, startling Lance.
My best friend finds me in the semi-crowded conference room, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“That’s my, um, Kyle,” I tell Lance, edging past him. “Excuse me.”
“Your Kyle?” he mutters as I walk swiftly across the tile floor.
Please, don’t follow me.
“Kaylee.” Kyle cocks his head to the side, taking me in when I reach him. A smile plays at his lips, and he shakes his head as if confused. “What are you doing here?”
“Learning about guitars and pawnshops,” I say under my breath.
Kyle glances behind me, toward the restroom doors where I left Lance, and then he looks back at me. His smile becomes a grin. “I see. That sounds—”
I hold up my hand. “Don’t.”
Kyle clears his throat like he’s trying not to laugh. “You should have told me you were coming. I would have picked you up.”
I glance around the room, taking in my dating options. I’ll be honest…they’re not plentiful. Still, I say, “What if I hit it off with someone tonight? I don’t think he’d necessarily like to see me going home with another man, now would he?”
Obviously, I’m joking, but when Kyle doesn’t answer, I look back and find him frowning.
“It’s a joke,” I say.
“Which part? That you’ll meet someone? Or that you’ll meet someone who won’t like me?”
Pushing my purse strap a little higher on my shoulder, I cross my arms. “The first.”
But definitely not the second.
Ava was an anomaly, and only because she felt utterly unthreatened by yours truly. There’s no way a sane, or even halfway observant, guy would look at Kyle and not get a little antsy about our friendship.
“I don’t know about that, Kaylee.” Kyle’s eyes drop as he slowly takes me in, his gaze playfully lingering on my legs. “You’re looking pretty good.”
Please excuse me while I swallow my tongue.
“I…er…thank you,” I stammer.
Did Kyle just check me out? Or was he pretending to check me out? And even if he was only pretending, he still looked…so that counts, right?
Right?
“But I’m confused,” Kyle says, drawing me away from my chaotic thoughts. “I thought you said these things are lame.”
“They are lame,” I assure him wholeheartedly. “If you want to leave, just say the word, and we’re out of here.”
He glances again at Lance, who’s now chatting up a woman who has so many piercings she looks perforated. Maybe all that metal magnetically attracted them to each other.
“I promised Sally…” Kyle says, obviously having second thoughts.
“Where is she anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
As if summoned, Kyle’s co-worker hurries through the door, scarf flying behind her. She’s a few years older than Kyle and me, in her mid-twenties. Her dark blond hair is up in a sleek ponytail that looks far less frazzled than the rest of her.
As the door closes behind her, the end of her scarf catches, nearly choking her when it tugs her back.
Muttering under her breath, she whirls around.
“Hey, Sally,” Kyle says, pushing the door open to free her. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”
She flashes him a grateful look. “I think the fuel pump is going out in my car. It gave me some trouble.”
When she sees me, an uncertain look crosses her face. Quickly, she schools the expression and gives me a warm smile that I’m not one hundred percent certain is real. “Hi, Kaylee. I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
I shrug. “I thought I’d give it a try.”
For the first time ever, I look at Sally with different eyes, seeing her as competition. She’s pretty in a wholesome way—big smile, clear skin, sparkly blue eyes. She’s the kind of girl who throws on a little concealer, blush, and lip balm and looks ready for the day. She mentioned once that she ran track in high school, and she still looks pretty fit.
She moved here from Phoenix after college, so we didn’t go to school together. I realize now I don’t know her all that well.
“Is your brother going to be here?” she asks casually.
It’s always about Heath. Seriously, I think half the girls in school wanted to be friends with me just so they could get to know him.
“I don’t think so,” I answer. “I didn’t tell him about it, and he’s probably working tonight anyway.”
&n
bsp; Looking only mildly disappointed, probably because she’s already crushing on Kyle, she nods.
Val steps to the front of the room, putting an end to our conversation—and alerting me to the fact that we didn’t escape when we had our chance.
“Welcome, welcome!” the older woman says, extending her hands like we’re a crowd of five hundred instead of forty-some. “I am so glad you all made it tonight. For those of you who haven’t attended one of our events before, it’s fairly straight forward. Find your name tag at one of the tables and sit in the corresponding seat. The person across from you will be your first date. You’ll have five minutes. When the timer sounds, the gentlemen will move one seat to their right.”
Sounds like a hoot.
“Any questions?” she asks. “No? All right, find your name tags!”
We shuffle toward the long tables. They’ve spaced out the chairs, giving the couples a semblance of privacy. Kyle finds his seat first. He flashes me a hesitant smile, slaps the sticker on his shirt, and sits across from a woman in her fifties.
I end up at a table toward the back of the room, across from…no one.
Val walks up and pats me on the shoulder. “Sorry, sugar. There are more ladies here than men, but don’t worry—you’ll get a chance to talk to them all.”
I’m not sure whether I’m relieved or embarrassed. Apparently, I can’t even get a date at an organized event.
“No problem,” I say, digging my phone out of my purse and giving her a little wave with it. “I’ll just…yeah.”
She smiles, tells me I’m a good sport, and heads to the front once more. “Okay! Here we go!”
Val then starts a huge digital clock, and I pretend I’m not a total loser. I’ve never focused on Mahjong so intently in my life.
“Is this seat taken?” a man says from across from me.
I whip my head up, and my mouth falls open. The man is crazy hot. Like foreign, sexy, holiday-fling hot.
“No.” I gesture toward the empty spot. “Sit.”
He smiles. “I’m Gio.”
“Kaylee.”
That smile grows, and he nods toward my chest. “So I see.”
27 Ways to Mend His Broken Heart Page 5