“So, you’re sure I should go there?”
“Yes, you should go there.” A voice comes from behind us and I turn to see my mom clutching a big brown bag. “And you can bring her this.”
“What is it?” I take the bag.
“Her food. I heard them calling her name. She left without it. I got it so that you can take it to her.”
“Mom, I’m sorry. I just really—”
“Like her.” My mom finishes for me. “I know. And just like your brothers, you’re a fool when it comes to women.”
“Thank you.” I hold out my free arm and hug my tiny mom. “I really am sorry.”
“I know you are.” She slaps me on the stomach. “Now go.”
“I need to say good-bye to the girls and apologize.”
“The girls are fine, your dad ordered them all ice cream. You going back in now might only get them all worked up again. Just go.” She points to the parking lot.
“What do I say?” I ask. This time I need my mom’s advice.
“Matthew.” She places her hand over the left side of my chest and taps. “Think with your heart.”
She’s right. Peen, brain, conscience… I always let them do most of the thinking.
Now it’s my heart’s turn.
IT’S NOT MEANT to be.
You can only give something so many chances before you have to come to terms with the fact that it’s just not meant to be.
I slam the door to my car and my keys slip from my hand into a large slushy puddle on the ground. Of course they do. That’s it. I didn’t cry the whole way home, but this… this I am going to cry about. Stupid keys. I reach down and swipe them from the puddle, allowing big wet tears to spill from my eyes.
Windows filled with glowing lights and decorated trees multiply every time I come home. Everyone is getting ready for a love-filled holiday except me—the dirty girl who has one-night stands and gets called out by young children at family dinners. The tears come out in full force.
I’m gonna be all alone for Christmas. Sniff. Again. Sniff. I’m gonna be all alone forever. Sniff. Sniff. And I don’t even have any Chinese food. Weep. Sob. Bawl.
I forgo my building and keep walking. There’s a convenience store only two blocks away, and the only thing that might possibly make me feel even an ounce better is a pint of ice cream. Yes, that’s about right, one pint of ice cream equals one measly ounce of happiness.
Before reaching the convenience store, I come upon Ed’s Liquor store. Peering in through the window, I see an entire endcap dedicated to cinnamon bliss. Fireball. A few of the bottles have shiny red ribbons around the base of the neck. As if that warm, mind-numbing liquid needs anything to be more enticing. Decision time, what’ll it be? Fire versus ice? Binge eating versus binge drinking? Being a lonely loser or….
What the hell am I doing?
It’s time to RSVP—NO. Holly will no longer be attending pity parties.
Fuck Fireball. That’s not what I need. Ice cream, don’t need that either. I turn on my heels and start a steady march back the way I came. I know what I need. My feet pick up speed, breaking into a run. I whip out my wet keys, clink open my doors, and throw myself into the driver seat. My car roars to life and I step on the gas, peeling out. The light at the end of my street turns yellow, but my lead foot accelerates and I speed through. If I hurry, I can make it.
The parking lot is full except for one spot right up front. I ignore the handicapped icon and pull in. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
The crowd at the restaurant has thinned and I pray I’m not too late. I breeze past the hostess who greets me holding an armful of menus, and return to the scene of the crime. The large table has emptied, with the exception of three. Matthew is gone. His nieces are gone. His father, brothers, all gone. All that remains are his two sisters-in-law and the mother who knows everything.
I can’t take my eyes away from the table as I back toward the exit. Look at them, sitting there, sipping tea with their better-than-everyone-else snooty faces. It’s like a scene from Cinderella, the wicked stepmother and the two wicked stepsisters. They’re probably discussing me right now, judging me when they don’t even know the whole story. The blonde one uses expressive hand motions to finish up a sentence and Matthew’s mother tosses her head back with an evil cackle.
Lost in my growing despisement, I back right into the busboy, sending his full large tray crashing to the ground. I gawk down in horror at the mess I’ve caused.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Here let me help you.” I drop to my knees, picking up dirty dishes with leftover Lo Mein and congealed pieces of broccoli stuck to them.
“It’s okay.” He places a hand over mine, encouraging me to put the dirty dishes down. “We’ve got it.” Another busboy and one of the waitresses come over to help with the mess. I stand up, wiping my hand down the front of my pants, still apologizing profusely.
“Holly?” Her voice is shrill and the hairs on the back of my neck stand at full attention. “What are you doing back here?”
Crap. I’ve been spotted. His mother glares at me from her high and mighty throne at the head of the table. The women at her sides stare with wide-eyed disapproval at the peon who’s no good for their brother-in-law. After the night I’ve had, the month I’ve had… the year I’ve had, I can take no more.
“Yes, that’s right,” I snip, pulling myself up to my full five foot three. “I came back looking for Matthew.”
“You did?” she questions with a snarl. “But Matthew—”
“I like him and I shouldn’t have run away before,” I interrupt. She can say whatever she wants when I’m done, but first I need to set her straight on a few things. “Matthew is sexy, charming, and smart.” Deep breath. “Okay, yes, I thought he was someone else when we first met. And yes, it was not one of my wisest decisions to ask him back to my place and have mind-blowing sex all night long with a guy who was practically a stranger. I didn’t even find out who he really was until the next morning.” Three mouths hang wide open, rendered speechless. “But then we ran into each other again. We were both a bit drunk. I had just found out my ex was engaged and you know, Matthew had just had that whole thing with Jeremy where they kissed and everything.”
“J-J-Jeremy?” the blonde one stammers. “Matthew and Jeremy kissed?”
“Yes, but I’m sure he told you guys how it was a big misunderstanding.”
“No, I don’t believe I heard that story.” His mother rests an elbow on the table and cups her chin. “Go on.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t.” Am I saying too much? Did they not know about Jeremy? They knew about our indiscretion; why wouldn’t they know about that one? Wait? Did I just say mind-blowing sex in front of his mom?
“You can’t stop now. You obviously have things you want to say, by all means, keep going.”
I guess she’s right. There are still some things I need to say. I can’t stop now.
“Well, like I said we had been drinking and it was snowing and I somehow wound up at Matthew’s apartment. But we didn’t have sex,” I say, starting off strong, but then the strength in my voice dwindles. “Not at first. He said some things. I got sick. It was a mess. A mess he cleaned up.” I shudder. “Then the next day we were trapped ’cause of the snow. Remember that big storm before Thanksgiving? Well we were stuck inside and spent the day together.” I push the hair out of my face and smile down at my feet. “It was a really good day. He’s so smart. And funny. And like the sweetest, most amazing guy I know.”
“Is that when you had sex again?” the blonde asks, and the other two women swivel their heads with a gasp. The dark-haired woman reaches over to nudge her. “What?” she asks. “It’s not like I’m asking for details.” She turns to me, cups a hand to her mouth, and whisper-shouts, “But if you want to give some that’s fine.”
“I think the only detail you really need to know is that I like him. And yes, we may have had a weird start, a one-night stand, but when we t
alked before, the way I feel about him, the way I like him, he seems to feel the same way. He says he wants to date me, see where this goes. And I know I certainly want that too. So in a way doesn’t that undo the whole one-night stigma? If we date, it’ll no longer be just one night or even two nights. That is, if he ever wants to see me again after this whole fiasco.” I will them not to, but my stupid eyes fill with tears anyway.
The faces in front of me soften, not as evil as they appeared just moments ago. I even pick up a trace of a smile from his mother. “I think he wants to see you again.”
“Really?” I suck in my bottom lip and chew nervously. My finger swipes up and catches an escaped tear before it rolls down my cheek. “And you’re all okay with that?”
His mother gives me a nod. “I hope to see you again soon, Holly. And I have a feeling we will.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She smiles. “Now I think it’s time you go home. You never know what might be waiting for you there.”
Waiting for me there? Does that mean Matthew is at my apartment? Did he go after me? Swoon. My heart cartwheels as I grip my keys, anxious to get back home and see if he’s there.
“Oh wait, Holly, before you go.” The blonde stops me. “If the girls ever ask, ‘a one-night stamp’ is something they do to your hand when you go to a dance club.” She gives me a wink.
My face heats up. I’m not sure what the future holds for me and Matthew, but one day soon, I hope this is a story I’ll find myself able to laugh at with these women.
Wouldn’t that be crazy?
I CLUTCH THE bag of Chinese food and knock at her door. The sound of heavy footsteps approaching has my stomach in knots. I’m hoping this food is enough of a ticket for her to at least hear me out. What happened back at the restaurant was a nightmare, but in a family that size there is always some type of drama going on. My plan is to go with some type of initiation theory, welcoming her in with a big dose of crazy. Stupid, I know, but it’s the best I got right now.
The door opens and my eyes narrow at the man in front of me. I take a step back and double check that I’m at the right apartment. I am. Who the hell is this?
“Can I help you?” The man, dressed in a three-piece suit, sneers at me. He adjusts his fancy cuffs adorned with golden links.
“Is this Holly Martin’s apartment?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Is she home?”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” The man eyes me cautiously, stopping at the bag in my hand. “Oh, she ordered food. It figures.” He rolls his eyes. “Typical Holly to order food and then not even be here when it comes. The girl is as flighty as they come, but if you could see her ass you’d know why I’m willing to put up with it.” He snorts at his crude joke. “How much do I owe you?”
I don’t know who this is or what he’s doing here, I just know I despise him. “The delivery is for Holly. I’ll come back later and give it to her.”
“No, give it to me. I’m her boyfriend, it’s fine.”
“Her boyfriend?” I nearly choke on the words.
“Yes, her boyfriend,” he says squarely, with an air of suspicion. “Now, how much do I owe you?”
I look down at the bag gripped firmly in my fist. “Um, one hundred dollars,” I say, just to be a dickhead.
“One hundred? Is it sushi?” he asks, reaching for his wallet.
“I don’t know what it is.”
He hands me a hundred-dollar bill and even tips me a twenty. I’m at a loss and turn to walk away.
“Excuse me. The food,” he yells out, and points to the bag still gripped in my hand.
I hand over the bag to Holly’s boyfriend. Something’s not right here. “What’s your name?” I ask.
“Why do you need to know?”
“Just want to know who to thank for the generous tip.”
He gives a cocky grin. “Tyler Cates.”
Tyler. Her ex. I pocket his money and walk away without giving that thank-you. He mumbles under his breath and slams the door.
I stomp down the stairs. What the hell is going on? Why was there no mention of him before? Especially if he was at her home? And where is Holly? Shouldn’t she be home by now?
This just doesn’t add up.
The heat in my car flows out at the highest setting. I sink back, slamming my head against the headrest, and stare up at her building. What’s my next move? Do I go home? Sit here and wait for her to return? Chase her up to her apartment and confront her about the boyfriend who just answered her door? Should I fight for her? Puff up and knock out the jackass in the three-piece suit in hopes she’ll leave him and choose me? Being the youngest of three boys, I do know how to hold my own and that bitch doesn’t look like he could hold anything more than a fat wallet.
I white-knuckle the steering wheel. Holly is making me crazy. Only an hour ago it all seemed like it was gonna finally come together for us. An end to the craziness and a beginning of something great. Little did I know that I’d soon be up against an interfering mom, blabbermouth nieces, and returning exes.
I knock my head down into the steering wheel. Goddamn, this night could not get any worse if it tried.
My phone chimes, an incoming text distracting me from the madness inside my head. Before I even look, a second chime comes in, then a third and a fourth. I swipe in my passcode and read the texts.
Ashley: Who’s Jeremy?
Robin: Just wondering—do you work with a guy named Jeremy?
Kent: Why the fuck are you kissing some dude named Jeremy?
Patrick: Heads up. We all know about Jeremy.
OUTSIDE, AN OFFICER stands by my car, pad in hand, scribbling away.
“Wait! Stop!” I break into a run.
“Is this your car, miss?”
“Yes, but I was only there for a minute. I can explain.” The officer lifts his head for the explanation I can’t give. “I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.”
“Do you know the fine for an unauthorized vehicle in a handicapped parking spot is two hundred and fifty dollars?”
“Two hundred and fifty?” I gulp.
“Yup, two-fifty. Expensive lesson,” he says, tearing off the ticket and placing it in my hand. “Learn from it.”
“I have,” I grumble, getting into my car and tossing the ticket onto the passenger seat. Very stupid mistake, but hopefully in the end this will all be worth it. And it will be. After everything I’ve been through tonight, I’m determined to make sure we get it right this time.
Even if it kills us.
It’s a conscious effort not to speed all the way home. I can’t make another expensive mistake. But damn, I just want to get home as fast as humanly possible to see if he’s there. He has to be. Why would his mom say something like that if he wasn’t? And this time when I see him, it’s going to all fall into place.
It seems like forever before I reach my apartment and park, tugging open the door handle.
Wait.
I freeze, one leg dangling over the pavement. Say it does go right and everything does fall into place. What then? Sex or no sex? I snap my leg back in and close the door. What’s the protocol for a situation like this?
If we have sex, then maybe I’m just setting us up to go from a one-night stand to a booty call. I can’t do that. But on the other hand, if we don’t have sex, what message does that send? That I’m a game-playing tease? We’ve had sex. Amazing sex. Why would I hold back now? Ugh. Before I go up there, I need answers.
WWJD?
What would Jayne do?
There’s no time to call her now. It doesn’t matter. I close my eyes and hear her voice in my head.
“Bonk his fucking brains out, Holly!”
Excellent advice. Thanks, Jayne.
I have no patience for the elevator and take the stairs two at a time up to my apartment, anxious to see my knight in shining armor, have our happy ending, and let the bonking commence.
The doors to the elevator part to an empty hal
lway. He’s not here. I search from one end of the hall to the other. Did he leave? Was he even here at all? Did I misunderstand his mother’s words? My palm smashes up against my chest to try and dull the ache inside. I’d just been so sure.
The sound of violins permeates through the hall. It’s close. Where is that coming from? It almost sounds like it’s coming from my apartment. I press my ear against my door, and the intense rock of the Trans-Siberian orchestra blares on the other side. I jump back in horror. Someone’s in my apartment.
I know it’s not Matthew. It can’t be, not unless he broke in, and there’s no sign of forced entry. Maybe I left the music on? Carefully, I reach down to my doorknob and try turning. It’s unlocked. Okay, I know I didn’t leave my door unlocked. I’m always super careful about that. Do I call the cops? Tell them I think I’m being robbed by festive thieves listening to lively holiday music? I keep turning and bravely crack my door open for a peek. Nothing seems out of place, so I open the door further. Tyler? What the hell? He sits on my couch with a glass of wine in his right hand, conducting the orchestra with his left.
“Holly, you’re home.” He doesn’t get up when he sees me but does lower the volume on the blaring music.
I stagger inside in a stunned, zombie-esque fashion and drop my purse to the floor. “What are you doing here?”
He frowns. “Is that all I get? Aren’t you excited to see me?”
Excited? No. Frightened? A little bit.
“How did you get in here?”
“I still have your key.”
“You can’t just let yourself into my apartment,” I nip out with a slight tremble to my voice. Perhaps I should’ve called the cops.
“Of course I can. I used to do it all the time.”
“Used to, when we were together. We’re not together anymore. You lost that privilege when we broke up.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here.” He sets his wine down and stands up with outstretched arms. “I’m here to take you back.”
The Two-Night One-Night Stand Page 12