“Is this about Olivia?” he asks.
My gut flips over at the mention of her name, and I scowl at him. Anger comes to me so easily since I left Sunrise Valley.
“So what if it is?”
I’ve spent most of the last couple of weeks trying to keep Olivia out of my mind, ever since I got back from Sunrise Valley. Because every time I think of her, I see it—I see the pattern, more clearly than I ever have before. Olivia, her sunken cheeks and needle marks. Allie’s anguished tears. I can imagine the disappointment on Lottie’s face when she realized I had broken my promise, and it makes me want to curl up in a ball until the sun burns itself out.
Ethan is looking straight at me, impassive. His expression barely moves.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
We’ve never actually talked about this before. Not the gory details. He was always there for me, always knew what was going on—but he never pried, never judged, and certainly never said anything like this to me. Judging by how angry it’s making me now, perhaps he was worried that I’d push him away if he said anything, and then I’d really have been lost.
“Then whose fault was it?” I ask, angrily.
“Hers,” he replies, firmly. “Or nobody’s. Sometimes, shit just happens.”
“Well, shit wouldn’t have happened if I’d done what you said and stayed here.”
“Get over yourself.”
He says it in such a deadpan, matter-of-fact way, like he’s been waiting to say it for a decade, that it instantly infuriates me. I swing my head around to look at him.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me,” he says. “Get over yourself. You think you’re so special that the only thing it took for Olivia to fuck up her whole life was you leaving?”
I don’t say anything, but I can feel the words seeping into me as my mind struggles to absorb them. It makes me uncomfortable, like there’s something crawling under my skin.
“You tried to help her for two years, Greyson, and it nearly killed you. You have to let it go. Go back to Sunrise Valley and see Allie.”
The sound of her name makes my heart ache.
“I don’t deserve he—”
“So don’t do it for you. You think Allie deserves to be unhappy?” he asks. “Because she seemed pretty happy to me, at Thanksgiving. With you.”
Fuck. I glower at him, not willing to accept that he might be right.
“What happened with Peterson?” I ask, changing the subject like a churlish teenager. That seems to be my brand, these past few weeks.
Ethan sighs, shaking his head, but he indulges me.
“He’s gone. Account closed.”
“Shit,” I say.
“Funny thing, though,” says Ethan, poking an abandoned takeout carton with his boot. He’s obviously given up on trying to tidy the place. I don’t blame him.
“Turns out the fact that we had him on our books was putting other clients off working with us. Since word spread that he’s gone, we’re getting ten new client queries a week.”
I stare at him, my brows raised in surprise.
“No shit?” I say. “What about legal?”
“He dropped it,” Ethan says. “I told him that if he tried to sue us I’d release the security footage of him cowering on the boardroom floor like a little bitch.”
I stare at him, hardly believing what I’m hearing.
“And he just dropped it?”
Ethan shrugs. “I mean he blustered a bit and called me a son of a bitch, but yeah. He’s a narcissist. The last thing he wants is a video out there of him being a coward.”
“So… it’s all okay?” I ask.
“It’s mostly okay,” Ethan says, raising a brow at me. “You’ll have to apologize to the staff members you traumatized in the hallway. But yes.”
I can’t believe it. Peterson is gone—for good—and the company is going to be just fine. I’m not sure if I’m relieved, or devastated that I left Allie for something that’s been resolved so easily. If I’d known that all it would take to get rid of Peterson was threatening to beat him senseless, I’d have done it years ago.
“I’ve told everyone you’re taking some time off and you’ll be back in the new year,” says Ethan, heading for the door. “You’re welcome to come to us for Christmas, Greyson. But I hope you’ll be somewhere else.” He gives me a final nod as he pulls the door closed after him.
The thought of Christmas in Sunrise Valley, with Allie and the girls and the rest of her family… there’s literally nothing on this Earth I’d love more. I look around my empty, fetid apartment, and the contrast couldn’t be sharper. It really is a state. And I really do need to get a grip of myself. Ethan’s words about Olivia keep churning in my mind as I start picking up boxes and bottles and the unidentifiable remnants of two-day-old take-out meals.
Have I really spent all these years blaming myself out of an overblown sense of my own importance? Or maybe, after two years of being slowly torn apart, was it just a way of convincing myself never to get involved with anyone else? Have I just been too scared—scared of going through something like that again—to take a chance?
I finish my first sweep of the apartment and stand back to admire it with an appropriately minor amount of satisfaction. I wouldn’t call it clean, but it’s at least fit for human habitation now. Recalling all those unread messages on my phone from earlier, I pick up my laptop and sit down on the couch. I may be taking some time off, but I can at least reply to all the people I’ve been ignoring.
I’m scrolling through my inbox when I notice an email from HelpForHire.
Hi, Gresyonblair! You have a new message from Alora Brooks. Click here to read it.
My heart jumps into my throat, and I click the link before I’ve even finished reading the message. Sure enough, there in my HelpForHire inbox is a message from Allie. My hands are actually trembling as I open it and scroll down to read.
Hey, Asshole.
Not how I’d imagined Allie starting this mail—I was expecting something cold and formal—but fair enough. I did skip town on her and break a promise to her daughter. Despite the rocky opening, I’m still tingling with excitement to hear from her.
It’s Sam.
Oh.
First of all, I want you to know that I think you’re a real douche for skipping town.
Can’t argue with that.
And second of all, Allie needs you to wind down the account on here so she can do something with payments.
My heart sinks. This account is my very last connection to Allie. And it’s the way we met. Winding it down feels like it would be the end of this chapter of my life, and as I think about it I realize I’m not so sure I’m ready to do that.
And last, because she’d never tell you herself: she really misses you. She had big feelings for you and you just took them and stomped them under your boot, like an asshole (see above). And you should know that, because I see no reason you should be breezing around the big apple while my friend sits here trying to hide her puffy eyes from her little girls.
Every word of it hits me like a slug in the gut. Not the parts about me being an asshole, I can’t argue with that (see above). But the bits about Allie being sad, and crying, and trying to hide it from the girls. I can’t stand it.
Anyway. Do the account thing. Please.
Sam.
Sometimes you never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.
My breath hitches as I read the bright purple text of the last line. I stare at it for a long moment, and suddenly I’m transported back to my first day in Sunrise Valley House, when I first saw that line in its stupid Comic Sans font. God, why did it annoy me so much back then? It seems such a silly thing to be irritated by.
And then, as though triggered by the recollection of how it all began, memories of Allie begin to flood through my mind. The first day she came to the house. Her Care Bears hat. Meeting the girls in the diner when they were on the hunt for cookies. Singi
ng Bon Jovi as we barreled down the highway. Fixing the tap with her. Our kiss in the mud. Our night together in the snowed-in mansion. Thanksgiving. Playing Santa at the Christmas fair. Decorating the tree.
The antlers and that terrible French accent.
Tears are streaming down my face, happy tears shaken loose by the sheer joy of the memories flowing through me, and I can’t help it anymore. I throw back my head and start laughing uncontrollably.
“HOLY SHIT!” I say out loud, to nobody. “IT’S TRUE!” The stupid purple Comic Sans email signature is true!
I’m still laughing like a maniac as I reach for my phone and hit the speed dial. It barely rings once before a voice on the other end answers.
“Boss?”
“MERRY CHRISTMAS, BEN!” I practically shout down the line.
There’s a long pause, and then Ben speaks again, carefully, as though not wanting to upset the madman on the other end.
“Boss, it’s December 18th.”
“I know, Ben. I know! But do you know what that means?”
“What does that mean?” he says, his voice warming a little, with a hint of a smile in it.
“It means I’ve got a week! But there’s a shit ton I need to do, and there’s no way I can do it without you. Will you help me? Please?”
Another pause, shorter this time, and then Ben answers. His voice still sounds a little bemused, but I can practically hear his grin from here.
“What do you need, G?”
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll send over a list.”
My mind is already racing, planning, going over everything that I’ll have to put in place.
“No problem. Send over whatever you have and I’ll get started on it.”
“Thanks, Ben. Thanks a million. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Talk soon. And G?”
“Yes, Ben?”
“It’s good to have you back.”
Chapter 25
Allie
“Hey!” I call as I push open the door of Sadie’s house, knocking twice as a courtesy before I let myself in. It’s the day before Christmas Eve, and the girls and I have come over for a visit. They both push past me, giggling gleefully, and run off to find their cousins.
“Hey!” calls Sadie from the kitchen. “Come on in.”
I peek into the sitting room on my way, just in time to see the girls giving Eddie a big hug, and we exchange nods as I pass by and head down the hall to the kitchen.
Sam and Drew are sitting at the table, and they both look up at me as I enter. They seem a little… nervous, I guess?
“Oh, hey, you two!” I say. I wasn’t expecting to see them here.
“Sit down,” says Sadie, waving me to a seat.
“O...kay,” I say, looking from her to Drew and across to Sam. “What’s going on?”
Sam clears his throat. “We’ve… got something to tell you,” he says, with some difficulty.
I look around at the three of them again, and this time I notice the concern etched on their faces. My stomach begins to churn a bit. What’s going on?
“Allie,” says Sadie, sitting down next to me. She holds my hand, gently, and it feels so much like the day she told me Libby had died that a nervous tension spikes immediately in my gut.
“What is it?” I demand, my voice higher than I intended.
“Listen. We didn’t want you to find out from anyone else, but Sam was driving on Old Green Road earlier, and… well…”
I look at Sam, who’s looking right back at me with wide, sad eyes.
“The sign’s gone,” he says.
It takes me a moment to realize what he’s talking about.
“And there were moving trucks in the drive.”
A cold tingle travels all the way up my legs and down my arms. The mansion has sold. Greyson’s last tie to Sunrise Valley is severed.
He’s not coming back.
“Are you all right?” Sadie asks when I don’t say anything.
No. I am definitely not all right. The sadness that had settled in behind my sternum is roaring back to life, and I can feel a lump rising in my throat.
“Ye—” I start. I cut off when my voice cracks and clear my throat. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“You know, it’s all right not to be fine, Allie,” says Drew. “It’s a big deal.”
Tears sting my eyes and I try to blink them back. I know I’ve failed when Sam plucks a tissue out of the box on the table and hands it to me.
“Stay here tonight,” says Sadie. “Even if you spend the night in the spare room by yourself. At least I’ll be here to look after the girls.”
I dab at my tear-wetted cheeks and nod, grateful for the offer. I’m so tired of constantly having to hold it together on the outside while I fall apart inside.
“And tomorrow as well,” she says. “The girls’ gifts are in our garage anyway. We’ll just leave a sign outside. You know… for Santa.”
I’ve scraped together enough gifts to make sure the girls will have a good Christmas, but I know they can both tell I’m not feeling a hundred percent. They’ve both been unusually well behaved the past couple of weeks, and they keep giving me random cuddles and saying “Poor Mommy.”
It breaks my heart every time.
If I stay here tomorrow night, they’ll at least have the excitement of their cousins to keep them entertained. And I'll have Sadie and Eddie to keep me going if I falter.
I nod gratefully, giving Sadie a watery smile.
“Thank you.”
“Any time,” she says. “You know that. We can wrap gifts later and chat about what a shithead Douchebag McFuckface is.”
We all laugh together, and I wipe yet more tears from my face.
After dinner, when Sam and Drew have departed with promises to see us all on Christmas Day, and Sadie has insisted on looking after the girls for the evening, I head upstairs and slide into a long-overdue bubble bath. I wish I could say that it melted all my troubles away, that I relaxed and gained some perspective and realized that I was better off without Greyson. But the truth is that I just sat there, adding my tears to the water until it turned cold, feeling like a part of me was missing and that I’d never get it back.
It’s Christmas Eve, and the kids have been bouncing around with anticipation all day. We’d hoped that they’d run out of energy at some point, but as time wears on it’s becoming clear that’s not going to happen. In an effort to tire them out so they’ll be able to sleep, we take a long walk up the same hill we hiked on Thanksgiving afternoon.
I’m holding out okay until we reach the summit, and I remember being up here with Greyson. I miss the feeling of his arms around me as we stood and watched Sam declare his undying love for Drew. I miss the taste of his lips and the smell of his hair. And I miss the way he looked at me like there was nobody else in the world he’d rather look at.
It makes it even harder to accept that he just… left.
“Mommy! Help!” shouts Lottie, giggling as she runs right into my leg.
“Oof!” I say, just as River comes running over and touches Lottie on the arm.
“Tag!” she shouts, and they both run away in peals of laughter.
“How are you holding up?” asks Sadie, coming over to stand beside me. She loops her arm through mine as we start back down the hill.
“Oh, you know,” I say, shrugging. “I’m all right.”
We get back to the house just in time for supper, and afterward, we put out the sign we spent the afternoon making on the front lawn, to let Santa know that Lottie and Emma Brooks are staying in this house tonight. Just to be on the safe side, you understand. We hang the stockings over the fireplace, scatter some cookies on a plate, and set them out with a glass of milk for Santa and a carrot for Rudolph.
Lottie insists on getting more carrots for the other reindeer because it’s not fair that only Rudolph gets one. Once the kids are satisfied that everything is just right for Santa’s visit, we take them up to bed, r
ead them their stories, and restate the importance of going to sleep early so Santa can stop by.
Sadie, Eddie, and I sit around the twinkling Christmas tree, drinking tea and chatting in hushed tones until we’re sure the kids are asleep. And then the traditional Christmas Eve frenzy begins. Eddie brings in all the gifts from their hiding-place in the garage, and Sadie and I set them out in little piles for each of the kids.
We unbox the gifts that need to be assembled, shushing each other when the rip of a box opening is too loud. Eddie has his toolbox beside him and murmurs obscenities to himself as he tries to find the right sized Philips-head screwdriver to put together a bike for Finn, and then a somewhat more distinct stream of obscenities when he realizes that he’s forgotten to attach the stabilizers and has to start over.
Sadie and I, meanwhile, are a whirlwind of scissors and wrapping paper and tape as we wrap the gifts and put them under the tree. We spend a good ten minutes arguing over whether the bike needs to be wrapped. At several points, we swear that we’re not going to leave this until Christmas Eve next year, just like we did last year and the year before that.
When we’re all done, Sadie hands me a glass of red wine.
“We deserve it,” she winks, and the three of us clink our glasses together to toast another successful year of pulling the wool over our children’s eyes.
“We do,” I agree, taking a sip and looking over the plateau of gifts laid out before us.
I still have that hollow feeling inside. I always knew that Greyson would be leaving, but I somehow also imagined spending this evening with him, curled up on the sofa with the girls in bed, and the Christmas tree twinkling beside the roaring fire.
I can at least be excited on the girls’ behalf, and tomorrow I’ll be surrounded by family. Even my mom and dad are making the journey up to see us. It’s more than a lot of people have to look forward to, and I try to focus on that instead of dwelling on the things I don’t have.
My Smalltown C.E.O. Scrooge: A Festive Romantic Comedy Page 17
