Forever This Time

by Maggie McGinnis

  Josie felt a stab deep in her gut as she thought of the icy drink and one little girl who’d probably downed five hundred of them in the two short years Josie had known her.

  * * *

  “What’s this?” Avery’s eyes lit up as Ethan handed her a sparkly pink bag with tissue paper sticking out the top.

  “Happy eighth birthday, Aves!” He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, then sat beside her on the wishing-well bench. His eyes met Josie’s questioning ones over Avery’s head, but he just winked and shrugged his shoulders.

  Avery pulled out the first piece of tissue paper and folded it carefully. She did the same with the second, then reached in and pulled out a purple T-shirt with letters across the front. As she shook it out to read the letters, her little body quaked with laughter. “Oh, Ethan!! I love it!! It’s perfect!!”

  She stood up and pulled it over her head, then put her hand on her hip in a model-perfect pose so Josie could see. “OFFICIAL SNOWFLAKE VILLAGE SLUSH-BOMB TESTER?” Josie laughed. “Does my father know about this?”

  “Sure does. He said anytime she’s wearing it, she can walk up to any snack cottage in the park and ask for a free Slush-Bomb.”

  Avery started jumping up and down. “I love it! I’m never going to take it off!”

  Ethan pointed to the bag. “I was afraid of that. Look inside again.”

  Avery peered into the bag and pulled out six more shirts, all with the same letters on the front. “You got one for every color of the rainbow!”

  “Every day of the week, Aves.”

  Avery flung herself into Ethan’s lap, hugging him hard around the neck. “You are the best boyfriend-of-a-pretend-big-sis in the entire universe, Ethan. Thank you thank you thank you thank you!”

  “You’re welcome, munchkin. Happy birthday.”

  “Can I go test it and see if it works?” She jumped off his lap and danced in place.

  “Go for it. Have fun!” Off she went in a blaze of purple, leaving Josie alone with Ethan on the bench.

  Josie turned to him. “That was really, really nice of you. She’s never going to wear anything else, you know.”

  “I know. Thus the seven colors. At least she can mix it up a little.”

  “You’re going to be responsible for her teeth rotting, however.”

  “Nope.” He grinned mischievously as he reached into the glittery bag. “I knew you’d say that. Ta-da!”

  Josie laughed out loud as he produced a shiny red toothbrush and sparkly toothpaste tube. “Omigod, you think like a parent.”

  “Nah, a parent would never let a kid eat that many Slush-Bombs. My cool-guy status is still intact.”

  Josie leaned over to kiss him. “Thanks for doing this, Ethan. She’ll never forget it.”

  He sat back, smile fading. “It’s the least I could do, Jos. Who knows if anyone at home will even remember it’s her birthday?”

  * * *

  Josie shook her head to knock the memory loose. She was not going to walk around this park and see Avery everywhere. She was not going to remember Ethan as the caring, sweet, eighteen-year-old he’d been then.

  Everything was different now.

  Wasn’t it?

  Chapter 7

  In the distance, Josie could see more young guys in red shirts erecting the portable misters that would keep the walkways cool and give toddlers something to play in while their exhausted parents camped out on the green benches. She knew from experience that the on-call medic was probably on the way to the park, and that Mario would be delivering fifty extra cases of Popsicles within the hour from his massive freezer at the supermarket.

  No. Not much had changed. Even on a day where intelligent humans should be in a pool or a lake or an air-conditioned building, hordes of people would fill the park, running the employees through ice, Popsicles, and patience before noon. And through it all, those employees would paste on those fake smiles and chirp Have a happy ho-ho day! even though they just wanted to herd everyone to the exits, strip off their polo shirts, and jump into the river behind the maintenance garage.

  Josie had woken up determined to go to the hospital, but Mom had quashed that plan quickly and efficiently. It’s Saturday. It’s August. Ethan can’t run that park by himself, no matter how good he is. I know it’s asking a lot, but the best thing you can do this morning is head over there and help. It’s what your dad would want, honey.

  Then she’d almost stepped close enough to give Josie a quick hug, but had pulled back and bitten her lip instead. I’ll call you if anything changes.

  Once again, Josie had tried to stomp out the spark of hope Mom’s actions had ignited. The woman was acting almost … Mom-ish, and it was unsettling as hell.

  Ten, twelve—heck, fifteen—years ago, Josie would have given anything for a mother who’d hug her.

  Check that.

  She’d have given anything for a mother who’d hug her while sober, not just when she needed a pair of shoulders to sling her arm over so she could find her way to bed without falling down the stairs. Again.

  Turning toward Elf Central, Josie took a deep breath, glancing up at the window where she knew Ethan was probably sitting right now. Even though she’d known the arrangements before she got here, seeing Ethan sitting in that chair across from Dad’s—hearing him say I’m the CFO now—had spun her for a serious loop.

  So Dad might be the CEO of Snowflake Village, but since he’d always preferred playing Santa to crunching numbers, Josie would be willing to bet Ethan made more decisions about the park’s operations than Dad did these days. And that meant he’d certainly be threatened by anyone else stepping into his office, even if it was temporary.

  And especially if it was her.

  She’d taken the long way around this morning, but still the drive from her parents’ house to the park had lasted only twelve minutes. Hardly enough time to come up with a strategy for surviving the day.

  What she did know was this: she needed to tread lightly here. Snowflake Village was his territory now, not hers, and as strange as the whole situation was, she needed to respect that. Last night he’d sat there with eyes gone icy, telling her he didn’t need her help, and she couldn’t imagine he’d thawed any overnight.

  No, he didn’t want her here any more than she wanted to be here, but as her parents’ employee, his hands were tied.

  She cringed. If this wasn’t a lesson in how not to break up, nothing was. Who’d have thought ten years later they’d have to sit face-to-face in an office and work together?

  Not her, that’s who.

  The only thing she could do was put on her ultra-cooperative face and wait for whatever tasks he doled out.

  Empty the trash bins? Sure, Ethan.

  Pour Slush-Bombs until my fingers ache? You bet.

  Muck out reindeer stalls? Absolutely. No problem.

  She took a deep breath. She could do this. It was only for the weekend. Dad was bound to be on the mend by tomorrow, and she could be on her way back to Boston. Everyone would be happier that way.

  Especially Ethan.

  She started walking up the pathway to Elf Central. Whatever he had in store for her, she’d nod and smile and do her time.

  It would be fine.

  * * *

  “You want me to do what?” Two minutes later, she found out exactly what he had in store for her. Holding up the hanger Ethan had pointed her toward, Josie felt her mouth gape open.

  “You heard me.” Ethan’s voice was bland and humorless, and he hadn’t even looked up from his computer for more than a quick glance when she’d walked in.

  “Santa.”

  “You said you wanted to help, and Diana said to put you to work. This is work.”

  Josie tried not to stare at the muscled arms leaning on the desk, or at the pecs straining his polo shirt. Dammit, why did he still have to look so … good?

  Even while resentment and irritation practically vibrated from his body, she hated the unrelenting desire she had to
run her hands over his chest, to see if her head still rested in the same spot when they hugged … to see if his hand came up to cradle it there like it always had.

  She shook her head, holding the costume up in front of her. “It’s huge.”

  “Roll up the cuffs.”

  “It’s, like, ninety degrees out there. Is it air-conditioned?” Josie weighed the distinct advantage of disappearing into a costume and away from Ethan against the very real possibility of heat stroke.

  Ethan pointed to the window thermometer, again without looking up from his computer. “Only eighty-three.”

  “If I die of heat stroke in front of Rudolph’s Ridiculous Reindeer Ride, you’re going to have that on your conscience.”

  She waited for a response, but there was nothing except the clicking of his mouse. She fought the urge to growl. Sending her out in a Santa suit was worse than asking her to shovel reindeer poo and he knew it.

  Knew it and was probably grinning inside right now, the jerk.

  Fine. She’d wear the damn costume. At least then she wouldn’t have to sit here in this office. Wouldn’t have to try not to stare at Ethan. Wouldn’t have to wonder whether his hands were still as good as she remembered. Or his lips.

  She shook her head. What was the matter with her? She kicked off the sneakers she’d dug out of her suitcase this morning, then held up the big red pants, still not growling. She pulled them over her khaki shorts and hauled the belt buckle to the last hole, but the waistband slid down her thighs.

  Ethan pointed at the closet behind Dad’s desk. “Stuffing’s in the closet. And it’s Rudolph’s Razzamatazz. I imagine you remember that, though.”

  “How could I forget?” Josie muttered as she opened the closet door and pulled out three small pillows. She stuffed them into the waistband, then pulled the red and white jacket top on, but it was all discombobulated. In the air-conditioned office she was already hot. Out on the park’s pathways, she was going to turn into a poached Santa in ten minutes flat.

  She twisted in the costume. “How does this thing work?”

  “Zipper goes in back.”

  She looked down at the front of the costume. “Who makes a costume that zips in the back?” He shrugged. “How in the world do you get this thing zipped, then?”

  “You have to put it on backward, zip it from the inside, then spin it around and stick your arms in. That’s how Andy does it.”

  “Well, of course.” She fought not to raise her eyebrows or snarl at him. He was already enjoying this just a little bit too much. Once she wrangled the stupid costume around, she adjusted the hat and looked back at Ethan, who was still staring at his computer. “All right. I’m off.”

  “Don’t forget the beard.” He pointed at Andy’s desk. “Top drawer, left side.”

  Josie pulled open the metal drawer and found a pile of self-sticking moustache-beard combinations. “Oh, no way. He doesn’t have a nonstick version?”

  “Dunno.”

  Right. She’d be willing to bet he knew exactly where the nonstick version was. “I can’t glue one of these things on my face.”

  “Too delicate?” His eyebrows curved upward as he looked up at her for the first time, eyes sparking in challenge.

  “Fine. I’ll put it on.” She faced the little mirror tacked to the inside of the closet door, pressing the moustache and beard to her face. Ouch. She’d be lucky if they didn’t melt to her face in today’s heat.

  Gathering her dad’s basket of candy canes, she paused to roll up the pant legs of the costume, then headed for the door. “Maybe you could call 911 if I’m not back in a couple of hours?”

  Ethan gave a single wave, still not looking up. “Have a happy ho-ho day, Josie.”

  * * *

  “What does Sno-Cone Sally look like, anyway?” Kirsten’s tinkly laugh filtered through the phone Sunday morning as Josie sat on a hard-backed chair in the costume closet tying closed the waist of neon-green pants. Yesterday, Santa. Today, Ethan had her on the schedule as the super-round, super-bright character she’d hated the most as a teenager. Anything to keep her out of the office, she assumed. He had to be earning back some serious karma points for the misery he was inducing with these costumes.

  She looked down at the bright orange clown sneakers she had to put on next, right before she donned the ten-pound, Sno-Cone-shaped head with two teeny eyeholes. “You really don’t want to know what Sally looks like. Could give you nightmares.”

  “How’s your dad?”

  “They moved him to a step-down unit, so that’s good news. He’s not communicating yet, though, so it’s hard to tell how … how he’s going to be.” Josie grunted as she stuffed her foot into one of the clown shoes, trying not to picture her dad lying in a bed, unable to talk. “How’s everything there?”

  “Umm, pretty okay.”

  Alarm bells rang in Josie’s chest. “Not a confidence-inspiring answer, partner.”

  “Everything’s fine. Just normal full-moon stuff.”

  Josie recognized the evasive answer for what it was, but didn’t want to push. The last thing Kirsten needed was to feel like Josie didn’t think she could handle things on her own. “You’ll let me know if you need me, right?”

  “Gotcha on speed-dial.”

  “So no emergencies? Are you sure? You don’t need me to bust out of this costume and come back, like, stat?”

  Kirsten laughed. “I’ve got things handled here for now. You stay up there and be with your family. I can manage for the next few days. If it goes longer, we’ll just have to figure something out. Cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  There was a long pause. “And as your therapist, I highly recommend you spend less time in costume and more time at the hospital with your dad.”

  “You’re awfully blunt for a therapist. And you’re not my therapist.”

  “Best friend. Same thing.” Another long pause. “Things weren’t always awful, right? Maybe being with him could help you remember the good times, too. And understand each other.”

  Josie gave a short, bitter laugh. “Excellent advice—for someone else. I’m sorry, Kirsten, but I have no desire to go strolling down memory lane here.”

  “Just think about it. That’s all.” Kirsten clicked off, leaving Josie sitting on the bench with seven shades of neon and a giant head.

  No, she definitely wasn’t heading down memory lane here … because her version of it was paved with broken glass, broken promises … and broken hearts.

  Chapter 8

  “So I hear Princess is really back at Camp Ho-Ho.” Molly delivered Ethan’s burger and fries, then set a plate of lasagna down in front of his dad.

  “That she is.” It was Sunday night, and they were sitting at Bellinis having a pub version of a home-cooked meal. Between his time at Avery’s House and extra hours at the park this weekend, Ethan hadn’t had time to go grocery shopping, and the cupboards at Chez Miller were getting pretty bare. Mama Bellini’s cooking outweighed the risk of the third degree he’d known he’d get from Molly, but he was already wishing he’d come in on her night off instead.

  “Who’s Princess?” Pops poured ketchup on his lasagna before Ethan had a chance to stop him.

  “Josie.”

  “Oh. The one who ruined your life.”

  Molly snorted. “That’s one way of putting it.” She leaned over and pilfered one of Ethan’s French fries. “So how’s it been? What’s she been doing? Is it totally awkward?”

  Ethan tapped his father’s fork so he’d know which utensil to pick up. He was having one of his good days, but little things like that were starting to fade from his memory bank. It killed Ethan to watch, but so far they were taking it day by day, figuring it out as they went.

  “Awkward does not even begin to describe it.”

  “I can’t believe she’s been there all weekend.”

  “Diana insisted she be at the park, not the hospital. Practically begged me to find a way to keep her busy so Josie wouldn’t ha
ve to sit in the waiting room.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want Her Highness to be uncomfortable now, would we?”

  “Not nice, Mols.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not paid to be nice.”

  “Actually, I pay you quite nicely to be nice.”

  “Not here you don’t. I use up all my nice at Avery’s House. This pub is my territory.”

  “And besides, you’re a Bellini?”

  “Exactly. Nice is practically a liability in this family.” Molly motioned him farther into the booth so she could perch on the edge. “So really, how’s it going?”

  “Are you asking as the town gossip? Or as my friend?”

  Molly put her hand to her chest in mock insult. “I am not the town gossip!”

  Pops looked up and grinned. “No, that job’s already taken by her mother.”

  “You be quiet, Pops.” Molly pointed a French fry his way.

  “It’s fine,” Ethan finally answered. “Fine, but weird.”

  “What has she been doing? Is she in the office with you? She’s not in the office, right?” She shook her head. “No, that would be beyond awkward.”

  “She’s been … out in costume both days.”

  “In costume? In this heat? Are you trying to kill her?”

  “I think it’s mutual avoidance at this point.”

  No need to point out that he’d engineered said avoidance with creative scheduling.

  “You planning to use that strategy till she leaves?”

  “Maybe. It’s working so far.”

  “So no come-to-Jesus meetings? No confessions? No late-night apologies for dropping you like a hot potato and disappearing in a puff of smoke?”

  Ethan raised one eyebrow. “Not that we’ll be dramatic.”

  “I’m just asking.” Molly shrugged. “I mean, how do you spend two days with your former fiancée and not discuss things? I don’t get it.”