As soon as the door opens, however, she hightails it back into the open carrier.
“Good morning—” the veterinarian says before she comes to a stop in the doorway. “Isaac.” She blinks at me, looking rather astonished. Several seconds later, she shakes her head and puts on a smile. “And…Georgia.”
“Jen.” Georgia, too, sounds surprised to see one of our former classmates. The woman’s last name used to be Beckley, but she must have gotten married. “How are you?”
“Good,” Jen answers, recovering from the shock of seeing us. She walks into the room and gives us a curious look. “I had no idea you two were together. Last I heard, you broke up after graduation.”
Georgia blanches and stammers, “O..oh, well…” She then turns to me for help.
Instead of explaining the situation, I wait, curious about how she’ll answer. Her and Jen’s relationship in high school could best be summed up with the word “frenemies.”
Jen wanted me. It wasn’t a secret—she made sure of that. I don’t think she truly liked me; she just wanted to steal me from Georgia.
Because of the history, I know what’s going on in Georgia’s head. The last thing she wants to admit is that we’re not together.
And I find that rather funny.
“So, you’re an O’dwyer now?” Georgia finally says, deciding to change the subject altogether. “When did you get married?”
She emphasizes that last word, and I have to smother a laugh, pretending to clear my throat.
Jen pulls Calliope from the carrier, murmuring soft words of comfort to the cat as she examines her. “I got married five years ago, and I’ve been divorced for eight months.”
“Oh,” Georgia falters. “I’m…sorry?”
“I’m not.” Jen sets Calliope down and glances up at me, a smile on her lips. She then turns her attention back to Georgia. “It looks like she scratched her eye, and now it’s infected. Has she gotten into anything lately?”
Georgia shakes her head. “Not that I know of. She’s an indoor cat, so she doesn’t go outside.”
“But she keeps climbing the Christmas tree,” I say. “The needles are pretty sharp.”
“Yep, that would do it.” Jen washes her hands. “She’ll be fine. I’ll get you some ointment before you leave.”
Georgia wrinkles her nose at Calliope. “How exactly do you apply ointment to a cat’s eye?”
“Carefully.” Jen gives me another smile, this one wry and slightly flirty. “I’ll grab it and be right back.”
As soon as she’s gone, Georgia shakes her head. “Of all the stupid things.”
“Next time, we’ll have to look for a softer tree,” I joke.
Slowly, Georgia turns to me and motions a hand between us. “I’m not planning on making this an annual thing.”
I lean closer and raise my brows to tease her. “You say that now, but you still have a day and a half to change your mind.”
Immediately, she points a finger in my face. “That’s four. Flirting, nickname, sucking up to parents, and spending time together. You agreed to the rest.”
Enjoying the strange triumph in her eyes, I cock my head to the side. “Was that flirting?”
“Yes.”
“Was it? Are you sure?” I step closer and lower my voice. “Because I think I can do better.”
“Isaac,” she warns.
“Georgia,” I reply.
Her tone says no…yet her eyes drop to my mouth.
Jen walks back in, and we jump apart. The veterinarian gives us a weird look, and then she holds up a small white tube. “Okay, let me show you how to do this.”
Applying the ointment isn’t pleasant, and Calliope doesn’t like it. We’ll just leave it at that.
Just before Jen lets us go, she says, “Since you’re back in town, Isaac, you should come to Kevin and Layna’s Christmas party tonight. I know Kevin would love to see you.”
Kevin was a good friend in high school, but we lost touch after graduation. I heard he married Jen’s younger sister a few years ago, but I didn’t make it back for the wedding.
“Sure,” I say hesitantly, glancing at Georgia, wondering what’s going on in her head. Jen didn’t include her in the invitation, but I’m not going alone. “What time and where?”
Jen gives me the details and then walks toward the door.
“We’ll see you there!” Georgia says too brightly.
I bite back a smile.
Jen opens her mouth, looking like she wants to inform Georgia the invite was for me alone, but then she gives us a tight smile and walks out the door.
10
Judging from the number of cars lining the sidewalk, this must be some party. I don’t talk to Isaac as we make our way to the front. I’m holding a wrapped package of my mother’s homemade fudge, and believe me, it took every ounce of my willpower not to stress-eat the entire thing on the way here.
No, I didn’t have to come…but I couldn’t give Jen that kind of satisfaction. Besides, the thought of her cornering Isaac was too much. Oh, just imagine the pleasure she would get if he came alone. I’m afraid I’m not a big enough person to step aside and let her have a go at him.
“Are you cold?” Isaac asks when we stop at the front door.
I’m rubbing my arm with my free hand, more from nerves than the chilly night air. I stop as soon as he mentions it and let my arm drop to my side. “No.”
He studies me by the light of the Christmas tree that stands merrily in the entry. “You know this is a party, not a funeral, right?”
What’s the difference? You go to both because you have no choice…or at least I do. I would much rather be at home, curled up by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, and it irks me that it’s not the first time I’ve said those words this weekend.
He shrugs as if he doesn’t believe me and then rings the doorbell. Two seconds later, the door swings open, and Emery Taylor stands on the other side, bedecked in a genuinely hideous Christmas sweater. As soon as she recognizes us, she lets out a squeal.
“Georgia Pierson, look at you! You’re really here!” she exclaims, ushering us inside.
My best friend from high school wraps me in a tight hug, and I can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
I wouldn’t have been dreading it quite as much.
“Well, I didn’t even know you were in town,” she chastises me, pushing me back to arm’s length to study me. Then she grins. “Arizona agrees with you. You look amazing.”
“So do you.”
She rolls her eyes and motions to her stomach. “Three babies later.”
Three? I thought she was still on two.
Good heavens, I’m so behind. Here I am, just a few years from thirty, with no husband or babies in sight.
A horrible thought dawns on me, making my stomach clench and my head go a bit dizzy. If I’d followed Isaac to Wyoming, married him like he’d wanted…would we have kids by now?
The answer is so obvious, it makes the question seem downright ridiculous. Of course we would. Isaac is the kind of guy to want half a dozen of them.
I glance at him, imagining for a split second that I’d made a different choice all those years ago, that Isaac wasn’t here tonight with me as my ex…but as my husband. My pulse jumps, and I’m suddenly too warm in the once-cool foyer.
“Isaac,” Emery says warmly when she lets go of me, pulling him into a tight hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever. It’s so good to see the two of you together.”
I wait for him to correct her—tell her that we’re together, yes, but only in the most basic sense of the word.
He doesn’t. Instead, he casually loops an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close to his side. I freeze, and I’m sure he can feel the way I tense against him.
“Well, go on in,” Emery says, shooing us along when the doorbell rings. “Everyone is waiting for you. No one believed Jen when she said you t
wo were coming.”
Thankfully, Isaac is as extroverted as I am introverted, and he has no trouble taking the lead. I follow him into the living room, clutching the fudge like a lifeline. Sensing my reluctance, Isaac reaches back without a word, tugs one of my hands away from the box, and twines his fingers with mine.
The heat of his palm is a shot to my system. I’ve held that hand more times than I can count, but it’s not familiar anymore. There’s no time to dwell on that, however.
Suddenly, we’re surrounded by old friends, all of them questionably dressed. An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach as I laugh and reacquaint myself with people I used to know so well. This isn’t just a Christmas party. It’s an ugly sweater party.
“You guys didn’t wear sweaters,” Layna, our raven-haired hostess, says after the conversation dies down slightly. Her eyes are too bright, and I have a bad feeling. “That means we get to dress you.”
A nervous laugh escapes me, and I’m already edging toward the door. Isaac pulls me back, not about to let me escape. He flashes me a wicked grin, and if I hadn’t been standing right there with him when Jen invited him, I would have thought he set me up.
“I have the perfect outfit for you, Georgia,” Layna says, grasping my arm with a surprisingly firm grip and yanking me away from Isaac. “Come on upstairs.”
For one split second, I debate wrapping myself around Isaac like a toddler, refusing to let go until he gets me out of here. But I am a grown woman. I can handle a little humiliation, especially when it’s doled out in good spirits.
As Layna tugs me toward the staircase, I glance back at Isaac. Jen has already miraculously appeared by his side, and she’s holding some knitted atrocity and coaxing him to lean over so she can slip it over his head. She’s in a super low-cut sweater that’s covered in knitted holly, and she’s making sure he gets a good view.
Tramp, I think, and then I wince. That’s not a very Christmassy thought.
Holly-covered tramp, I amend.
Layna ends up dragging me into what I assume is the master bedroom. There’s an open storage tote on the massive bed, and sweaters spill out the sides.
“You’re not the only one who forgot a sweater,” Layna says, rifling through the box. “We save all our past ones, and I pick up new ones when they’re too good to pass up.”
“I didn’t know it was a themed party,” I say, my tone a little flat.
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Jen didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head.
“No worries—I’ve got you covered.”
I always thought Jen’s younger sister was as sweet as Jen was awful, but when she holds up a bright green sweater dress, I’m forced to change my mind.
“This is perfect.” She thrusts it in my hands and motions toward the bathroom. “You can change in there.”
A few minutes later, I stare at myself in the full-length mirror and swear that no one will ever, ever see me in this atrocity. I look like a Christmas tree—literally.
The sweater dress is fitted at my waist, and then it flairs out in a skirt that’s made full by fifty-billion layers of bright red tulle. The neckline boasts a Peter Pan collar—also knitted, and the bodice is covered in small bell “ornaments” that rattle every time I move. If there’s a cat anywhere in this house, I’ll be a walking target.
The dress is sleeveless, but it comes with a pair of complementary green and red striped fingerless gloves that end past my elbows. They match the tights.
Speaking of the tights, I don’t even need to wear shoes to complete the ensemble, because a pair of black Mary Janes are woven right into the design.
“How does it fit?” Layna calls.
“It’s not going to work, I’m afraid.”
Layna cackles out a laugh and opens the door. She immediately grins. “You look adorable.”
I purse my lips, trapping in a less than lady-like retort, and glance at myself in the mirror once more. I can’t believe I walked into this.
Jen.
That’s the worst part—I can’t leave now, or she wins. I have no choice but to put on a big, nonchalant smile and waltz into the party in this fine piece of tree couture.
So that’s exactly what I do.
The minute I step into view, the laughter, catcalls, and wolf-whistles start. I jingle with every step, and I know my face must be as red as the puffy underskirt.
“Georgia!” Scott Burke says, catching my attention as he walks forward. The former quarterback gives me a great big smile, taking me in. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
I glance behind him, looking for Isaac. I find him near Jen, who’s cozied up next to him on the arm of the couch. He’s not looking at her, though. Nope—I have all his attention. His dumbfounded stare informs me he can’t believe I let Layna talk me into this dress.
Giving him a one-shouldered, “what was I supposed to do?” shrug, I turn back to Scott.
“It’s good to see you,” I tell him. I’m not sure what else to say. We weren’t exactly close in school. He played on Isaac’s team, and that’s about the only reason I knew him at all.
“How long are you in town?”
“Just until Christmas.”
“We should go out for coffee, catch up.”
What do we have to catch up on?
Isaac appears behind Scott and loops an arm around his old teammate’s shoulders. “Hey, Scott. I didn’t see you come in.”
Scott turns to Isaac, and the two shake hands. “How’ve you been, Matthews? What have you been up to?”
Jen joins us and says, “Isaac works for Kentford’s—that shop that does classic cars for that TV show.”
Apparently she’s now the leading authority on all things Isaac.
“We contribute every once in a while,” Isaac says humbly.
“Is it weird being on camera?” Jen asks.
On camera? What the heck is she talking about? And what is Kentford’s?
“I’ve only been on there a few times in the background,” Isaac answers. “It’s a little strange, but mostly, I focus on whatever project I’m working on and try to ignore the cameras.”
I give him a quizzical look, a bit uneasy that I didn’t know any of this about him.
“I heard you moved to Wyoming,” Scott says.
“Only for school. Now I’m in Arizona, close to Sedona.”
Scott turns to me. “And what about you, Georgia? Where did you end up?”
“Phoenix.”
He looks between Isaac and me. “And you guys are together again…?”
Jen inches closer, waiting for our answer. In fact, it seems most of the conversations have died off, and way too many sets of eyes are focused in our direction.
Just like he did earlier, Isaac just stands there, smiling at me with a little bit of evil sparkling in his eyes, leaving me to field the question. I glance again at Jen, who’s way too invested in the conversation.
“No,” I finally say.
Jen’s face lights up, and just like that, her arm loops through Isaac’s. I stare at the point where they meet, wanting to pull her away like some territorial five-year-old.
Across the room, Emery scowls at Jen, taking my side, just like she did in school.
Casually, Isaac extracts himself from Jen and comes up next to me. Then his arm is across my back, his hand settles on my waist, and my brain up and short-circuits. “I am, however, spending Christmas with Georgia and her parents.”
He grins in that way that charms a crowd, and most in attendance, Jen excluded, laugh and cheer like we’re Hollywood’s newest couple. Which, back in the day, I guess we kind of were. Except instead of Hollywood, our stomping grounds were the halls of Rimrock High School.
Jen rolls her eyes and returns to the couch.
“Okay,” Layna says as she comes to the front of the room. “We’ve set up the food and drinks in the kitchen, but before we eat, I need to discuss our first game.”
I c
lose my eyes and hold in a groan. I hate party games—absolutely loathe them. Also, I don’t have a lot of confidence in the woman who dressed me up as a knitted tree.
She’s holding a basket of what looks suspiciously like fake mistletoe, and she starts handing sprigs out. “Everyone gets a mistletoe pin,” she says. “If anyone catches you saying the word “Christmas” this evening, they can steal your pin. The person with the most mistletoe at the end of the night wins.”
Ah, lame…but harmless.
“But there’s one more catch,” Layna adds with a grin.
Of course there is.
“If someone steals your mistletoe, they can choose anyone in the room for you to kiss. Because…mistletoe!”
I’m already shaking my head, and Isaac starts to chuckle beside me. He leans close, whispering near my ear, “Just don’t say ‘Christmas,’ and you’ll be fine.”
I shoot him a glare. “It’s a stupid game. What about the married couples? Or the people who are exclusively dating?”
“No one’s going to be cruel,” he says. “It’s just for fun.”
Layna makes her way around the room and eventually hands me my pin. I fasten it to my collar, promising myself that’s where it will stay.
After we’ve got our pins, we move onto the food portion of the night—which is really the only reason you come to these things, if you ask me.
I end up sitting with Emery and her husband toward the back of the room, eating assorted party foods from a red paper plate.
Every so often, someone in the room will accidentally say “Christmas,” and it causes a big commotion. Isaac was right—no one tries to cause trouble with the married couples. In fact, it seems to be the single people who are being targeted. After all, they’re the most fun.
“Oh! Kirt!” Layna hollers. “You said it! Hand over your pin!”
I don’t know Kirt—we didn’t go to school together. He takes the teasing well, though. Layna dangles his mistletoe over people, slowly walking through the room like she’s playing an elaborate game of Duck, Duck, Goose. People laugh as she passes over them.
Then she does the unthinkable. She stops at me.
10 Ways to Survive Christmas with Your Ex: A 27 Ways Novella (27 Ways Series Book 3) Page 6