Page 2 of Home for the Holidays

We were sitting on the couch, eating Thai food, when he announced that he was bored and wanted to try something new. I thought he meant a new Thai place. Or maybe even a new sex position, because let’s face it, that was getting a little old.

No. He meant new. He didn’t want me anymore. He was done.

But I won’t let that fuckface ruin this gorgeous day.

The sun is shining, it’s a beautiful fall day with the faintest crisp to the air, and I have our monthly staff meeting today—which means I get donuts.

I love donuts, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t let myself eat them outside of staff meetings or other occasions when they are provided for me. After an unfortunate few months in grad school that led me to gaining thirty pounds and spending way too much money at Dunkin’, I had to cut myself off. It was a necessary fact of life, even if I’m still not happy about it.

Erik refused to buy me donuts. He didn’t want me to lose my figure.

What he didn’t understand is that it’s my body and I’m the one living in it. If I want to be a size six or a size sixteen or even a size twenty-six, that’s up to me; he doesn’t get to enforce his “body standards” on me.

“You look happy,” Hattie says when I swing into the conference room.

“I am.” I look over the selection of pastries on the table. There’s no donuts, just croissants, cookies, and muffins. “I was. Where are the donuts?”

“Jan wanted to try a new bakery.” Hattie winces. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything.”

“I know. I’m still sorry.”

“You’re so Canadian.” I shake my head with a smile.

No matter how many times we’ve stared in the mirror together and repeated our mantra—I am a badass bitch — she still feels the need to apologize for everything. It’s the Ottawa upbringing, she says.

“We’ll go out for lunch,” she offers. “I’ll buy you a donut.”

“Thanks, babe.”

As the rest of the staff files in for the meeting, we dig into the pastries—still delicious, even if they aren’t donuts—and discuss the projects on our plate. The industry is winding down for the year. We get three full weeks off at the end of the year, plus there’s the holiday party and a few things with our clients.

It’ll be nice to have some time to relax and recalibrate. Maybe find a new apartment. Maybe I’ll even get a cat.

All I have to do is call the Lewis kid.

two

. . .

Jake

Hi, this is Rachel Levine. Your mom told my mom you have a spare room available?

Holy fuck.

I have a text from Rachel Levine.

That’s a name I haven’t heard in… a decade? Maybe more.

I hurry to sit upright and slap myself in the face with my phone.

“You okay there, bud?” my teammate and friend, Sven Larsson, asks from the second bed of our shared hotel room.

Normally, veterans don’t have to share hotel rooms, but since he started dating our team’s Logistics coordinator, Coach has been putting him in a room with someone else to discourage fraternization. Despite the fact their relationship is officially declared with HR and management.

Me, I’m that weirdo that volunteered for it. I don’t like to stay in hotel rooms by myself. It gets too lonely, and then I get self-destructive, and frankly, it’s better for all of us if I’m not left to my own devices.