by Tracy Brogan
If there was an emoticon for WTF, I’m sure my face was wearing it. But Blake kept right on talking.
“But honey, I have some big news to share, and all that hard work you just did? Well, it only convinces me that what I’m about to ask you is the best decision I could possibly make.”
“Blake—”
“No, let me get this out. It’s important.”
“Blake—”
He put his hand over my mouth. “Shhh, me first.”
Oh no he didn’t. He did not just shush me with his hand.
Yes.
He did.
Damn. I wasn’t just going to break up with him. I was going to break his arm, too.
“We have to keep this confidential for a while,” he said, lowering his voice and clasping my hand again. “But I wanted you to be the first to know. My dad is going to retire.” He gazed at me expectantly, waiting for my reaction, but I was numbed by confusion.
“What?”
“Yep, the old man is finally ready to turn in his Santa hat, but guess what that means for us, and specifically for me? It means I’m about to become president! Me, president and CEO of Haskell’s Holiday Haven. Isn’t that amazing?”
My thudding heart slowed to a crawl and I could hear my pulse inside my head. Tha-wump, tha-wump, tha-wump.
“Wow,” I finally said. As in wow, you are such an asshole.
“Yep, I know. But you know what they say. Behind every great man is a great woman, and babe, I want you there behind me. Beside me, really. My right-hand gal. What do you say? Yes?”
“Blake . . .” Tha-wump. Tha-wump. I just couldn’t articulate the perfect way to say oh, hell, no.
“Of course it would only mean a modest raise in salary since you’re already near the top of your pay scale, and Patty might be a little annoyed, but she’ll understand, I’m sure. We can find something else for her to do. Maybe she could take over your job as assistant buyer.”
Tha-wump.
What?
Who?
Patty?
Patty was Nick Haskell’s administrative assistant. Oh, holy, holy, holy hell. He wasn’t asking me to marry him. He was asking me to be his goddamn secretary.
“Is that what you meant by big future plans, Blake? You’re becoming president and . . . and you want me to become your . . . administrative assistant?” I had to ask. I had to be certain. Because I was about to go off on him in ten different ways, and some of them were going to be bloody.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. We make a great team, you and I. We’ve always said so, and I can’t think of anyone who would take better care of me than you could.”
What.
The.
Hell?
What if I’d been waiting on a proposal? What if I’d spent these last several days poring over that thoughtlessly worded e-mail thinking I was about to get an offer of marriage? What if I’d done all that work thinking I was doing it for my soon-to-be fiancé? This was just the kind of situation that landed people on Dateline. Men had been cleavered into chunks and fed into wood chippers for lesser offenses. Blake was so stupid and self-absorbed! I should be furious with him. I really should. I should be furious about the e-mail and the trip to Hawaii and all the requests for help with his job when I had my own to do. Yes, I should be furious.
But why bother? Maybe I was the idiot for ever thinking that’s where Blake’s head was at. I should have realized his e-mail was about work. His e-mails were always about work. In fact, work was all we ever talked about, other than the occasional conversation about what new restaurant we might like to try. It was really the only thing we had in common, our full and complete dedication to his family business. I was an idiot.
“Blake, it’s my turn to talk.”
He nodded. Vigorously.
And smiled. Cluelessly.
I took a big, deep breath and exhaled with a sense of determination. “I can’t be your administrative assistant. In fact, I can’t be the assistant buyer anymore, either. I’ve decided to leave Haskell’s and pursue employment elsewhere. And Blake . . .” I paused as he blinked at me slowly, as if I was just turning on the lights. “Blake, also I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore.”
There. I’d said it. Ten thousand pounds of worry and guilt and dread lifted off of my shoulders. I was ending this. All of this. I was doing the right thing for me, and Blake would just have to get over it.
“Leaving Haskell’s? Why? Why would you ever want to go work anyplace else?”
That’s what he’d heard? The part about me quitting? Not the part about me breaking up our mostly two-year relationship?
“I’m leaving Haskell’s because I’ve been there for almost ten years and it’s time for a change. I need some new challenges and I want to sell something besides tinsel.”
“But if you want new challenges, I’m sure there’ll be plenty working as my assistant.”
This time I laughed. I sure couldn’t argue with that. I’m sure there would be challenges in being his assistant! But as usual, Blake was missing both the finer points and the big picture. He had a modest grasp somewhere in the middle.
“I need more than what I’m getting from my job, and being your assistant would make that worse, not better. And Blake, I need more on an emotional level than what I’m getting from you, too. We were a good work team because I did all the work. But I’m not going to do that in my personal life anymore. I deserve better.”
He shook his head and frowned. “It was one trip to Hawaii, Kelsey. Why are you blowing this all out of proportion?”
“It’s not about Hawaii, Blake. It’s about so much more than that.”
He clasped my hands. “But I need you. How am I supposed to run Haskell’s without you?”
I still wasn’t sure if he was talking about the job part or the girlfriend part or both, but it didn’t make any difference.
“I know this is a lot to take in, Blake. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I really think this is for the best. Patty will help you, and so will the family. You know they will.”
“Six months,” he said. “Be my assistant for six months, and then if you don’t like it, we’ll find something else for you to do at the company.”
My ego was taking a bit of a bruising here. He really seemed quite unaffected by my lack of affection, but losing my business acumen? Now that he was going to miss. “You get that I’m breaking up with you as well as quitting, right?”
“Yes, I get that, but I think you’re wrong. I think you’re just more upset about Hawaii than you realize, and if you stick with me for a bit longer, you won’t be sorry. I’m not too proud to beg here, babe.” He slid off the couch and onto one knee, still holding my hands. “I promise if you’ll stick with me, you’ll see how fabulous we are together. Is it the title? Do you want a better title? Do you want to be Vice President in Charge of Taking Care of Blake?”
Now that was funny, and I laughed again. How could I not? “No, Blake. It’s not about the title. It’s about the lack of personal reward. Your dad built that company, which makes it meaningful to you, and that’s all great and good, for you. It just doesn’t mean the same thing to me. Now I need to go out and build my own thing. Plus I’m sick to death of Christmas. I’m sick of elves and reindeer and garlands and bows. I’m sick of the music and the wrapping paper and the fake trees. I’ve had it.” The idea of being away from all of that brought joy bubbling out of me like champagne fizz.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he said, sounding as if this was finally sinking in. He stayed down on one knee, still clasping my hands in his and staring into my eyes.
“Yes, Blake,” I said with a nod and a great big smile. “I’m completely serious.”
Drew
The bastard was down on one knee. I felt like ten pounds of fruitcake had been lobbed at my gut. I’d pulled into the driveway with my car lights off so I could surprise Kelsey with my homemade Christmas gift, and there she was getting proposed
to.
And there I was, crouched down on her grandmother’s front porch, peering at them through the picture window like some perverted Peeping Tom.
They were holding hands. She was nodding and smiling. Smiling! Those were not the mannerisms of a woman saying no. She looked like a woman saying yes. A woman very happy about saying yes. She was practically glowing with joy.
Damn it. Make that twenty pounds of fruitcake lobbed at my gut. One night with her had not been enough. Not by a long shot. I wanted more time and a chance to prove I was the right guy for her. How could she say yes to that asshole?
My mind ran through bits of memories from the last few days and our time together. In an instant, I tried to analyze the things she’d said about her relationship with Blake. She’d seemed pretty sure they were finished. But then again, she’d been angry. Hell hath no fury like a woman left behind on a trip to Hawaii. I guess I was just the lucky guy in the right spot at the right time to reap the benefits of her frustration with him. But not so lucky, really.
Kelsey Parker had been The Girl I’d dreamed of. I could have gone on with my damn good life, keeping her in that fantasy spot, idolizing her from a distance, and never knowing if I was right or wrong. Now I knew. I knew all the charms, all the intoxicating qualities I’d dreamed she had, she had. Now I knew just how amazing she really was, and some other guy was going to marry her. The level of suck of this moment made it hard to breathe.
A car drove by, the headlights startling me into action. I had to get out of there before they saw me. Losing the girl was bad enough, but I was not about to be the clueless dude who showed up for a date only to get stuck being the first to congratulate the happy couple. No fucking way. I had some pride.
I looked over at my gift. A stupid gift that I’d spent hours on. A little pine tree in a basket. One of my dumber ideas, apparently. I’d thought it was clever. I’d thought she’d get a kick out of it. But that was back five minutes ago before she was engaged. I pulled a pen from the pocket of my jacket and scrawled a new message on the tag.
Happy effin’ holidays to me.
Chapter 9
BLAKE HELD MY HANDS AND looked up at me with stunned surprise on his face, and I felt a surge of affection. Not the kind that would keep us together, but a sense of gratitude for ten decent years with the company and two mostly nice years, on and off, with Blake.
“You’re going to be just fine,” I said finally, and I kissed him on the cheek.
He stood up slowly, seeming a little dazed and confused, which made sense under the circumstances. “This is so not how I expected this to go,” he said, walking slowly back to the coatrack and taking his jacket off the hook. “I thought you’d be excited. I thought you’d be thrilled.” He slid his coat over his arms and I zipped it for him. Because that was the kind of thing I did.
“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. But I’ll be back in the office after the holidays and submit my official letter of resignation to your dad.”
Headlights from a passing car flashed through the big picture window, reflecting off the ornaments on the Christmas tree in the corner, and for a second the tree glowed as if telling me Good job, Kelsey. And merry Christmas. I thought for a moment it might be Drew arriving, but the car kept on going.
Blake nodded. “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you back in Chesterton then.”
“Good-bye, Blake.”
“Good-bye, babe. I mean Kelsey. Guess I can’t call you babe anymore.” He hesitated, then turned back to me. “Are you really certain this is what you want? It all seems kind of sudden.”
Maybe it was sudden, but I felt a clarity and a certainty about my decisions. No matter what might happen with Drew in the future, my time with Blake was over. And my time working at Haskell’s needed to end as well. I couldn’t grab on to a new future with one foot still in the past. “I am certain.”
He sighed. “Okay then. Have a good Christmas.” And with that, he was gone.
I felt a hollowness in my chest, an odd sort of sinking, but when it hit the bottom, it bounced back up and blossomed. I’d done it. I’d broken up with Blake and quit my soul-sucking job. I was free, free to do whatever I wanted to do. Free to disparage Christmas without breaking my Haskell’s oath of holiday conduct. But now that I wasn’t mandated to love it, I could choose to love it. Ho, ho, ho. This was going to be an awesome Christmas after all. I felt like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas morning after the ghosts had done their jobs. I was light and bright and optimistic about whatever came next. I could hardly wait for Drew to show up so I could go make merry at the Christmas carnival. He should be here any minute. It was nearly five o’clock.
Then it was five fifteen . . .
He didn’t seem like the running-late type, but maybe he’d gotten caught up in traffic. Not likely in Bell Harbor. But maybe. By five thirty I was checking my phone to make sure the ringer was working and there were no text messages. Nope. No text messages, so I sent one to him.
Hey, I thought we were going to the carnival at 5 tonight. Did I get my signals crossed?
No response.
By six o’clock I was feeling well and thoroughly stood up. I started running scenarios in my head. He’d been abducted by aliens. Kidnapped by roving gypsies. Trina Bartholomew had him tied to her bed with pairs of her own sweat socks. Or he’d slipped on ice somewhere, hit his head, and knocked himself unconscious. He could be lying in my driveway right now, out cold.
Pretty unlikely, but worth checking! I pulled open the front door and walked out onto the porch, hoping to see his prone body lying in my driveway and feeling a little guilty for that.
And that’s when I found it.
Not his body, thank goodness, but a tree.
A precious little three-foot-tall evergreen tree planted in a bushel basket and sitting on the porch. It was adorable, like no other tree I’d ever seen, decorated with handmade ornaments made from science class paraphernalia. There were petri dishes and test tubes covered with colorful glitter and tied to the branches with fuzzy pipe cleaners. Various dissection tools, spray-painted gold, dangled among the branches, too. The ornaments were so pathetic, so ridiculously awful, that they were irrepressibly, irresistibly cute.
My eyes welled up all misty-like. It had to be from Drew, of course. Thus the science theme. This must be my very own Practice Christmas tree, and it was about the most enchanting thing I’d ever seen. My heart swelled with joy, but just as quickly squeezed into a knot. Why would he drop it off and leave? I hauled the thing inside to search the branches for a note since it was too dark on the porch to see very well.
Once I had it inside the house, I found a tag at the top made from cardboard and tied on with a twisty-tie. In red marker it said, To Kelsey, From Santa, but underneath that, scrawled in ink pen, it said Congrats on your engagement.
Engagement? What? No, no, no! And more no. Drew must have seen Blake through the window. That much was obvious. He must have seen him down on one knee, too, but he must also know that Blake and I were totally and truly over. He had to know that even if Blake had been proposing, I would have said no. What would make him think I’d say yes?
This was awful. Officially and indubitably awful. Drew was out there somewhere thinking I’d just gotten engaged to Blake Haskell. I had to find him and tell him that just wasn’t true. I called his cell and left a rambling message, then sent a text.
I’M NOT ENGAGED!!
But after another half an hour, he still hadn’t called or texted back. This required more action. I couldn’t just keep pacing around my grandmother’s house, waiting, wondering, worrying. I pulled my phone back out of my pocket to call my sister. Maybe she’d have some idea of where a jilted, nerdishly sexy science teacher would go to drown his sorrows.
“Hey, where are you?” she shouted by way of an answer. “Why aren’t you here?” The noise from her end of the phone was swallowing up her voice. I had to hold the phone away from my ear because the din was so deafening.
“I’m at Grandma’s house,” I found myself shouting back. “Drew never picked me up. We’ve had a misunderstanding.”
“What?” she shouted. “I can’t hear you. It’s a madhouse here.”
“Where are you?” It sounded like she was in the middle of hurricane made of children.
“I’m at the carnival. I thought you were coming with Drew.” Ah, she was in the middle of a hurricane made of children.
“Me, too, but he never picked me up.”
“What?”
“He never picked me up!” I said it so loud it hurt my throat.
“He’s already here.”
“He’s there? At the carnival?”
“No,” she shouted back. “He’s here. At the carnival.”
The carnival. He went without me. Son of a bitch. Trying to talk to him there, amid the hullabaloo of little kids, not to mention Christmas carolers and braying donkeys, was not going to be easy, but I looked over at my one-of-a-kind Christmas tree with its garishly wonderful ornaments and knew I couldn’t wait. I needed to talk to him now.
“I’m on my way,” I shouted at my sister and hung up the phone.
Chapter 10
THE BELL HARBOR CHRISTMAS CARNIVAL was everything I remembered it to be, in a this is the third level of hell kind of way. It was earsplittingly noisy in the gymnasium, with carolers’ voices competing against swarms of overstimulated children. It was swelteringly hot and smelled like sweaty gingerbread men and gym shoes. At least they’d finally decided to keep the donkeys outside after the great manure debacle of 2011. People were still talking about that incident. It had cleared the gym in no time flat. Come to think of it, that’s what I needed. Something to clear the gymnasium, because somewhere in this melee of merrymakers was my missing date. I thought about pulling the fire alarm, but then I’d just lose him in a scurrying horde. At least this mob was slow-moving enough for me to scan the crowd. With Drew being so tall, he shouldn’t be that hard to find.
Along one wall were games set up for the kids, like Pin the Nose on Rudolph and the Five Golden Ring toss. Along another wall were food booths decorated to look like Santa’s Workshop. There was cotton candy, cupcakes, cookies, candy canes—basically every form of sugar available for mass consumption, leaving every little body under the age of twelve inside this enclosed space hopped up on sucrose and running around screaming.