Page 107 of Snowed In with Benefits

“Nice? No. What’s nice is that we finally got Nola her horseback riding lessons! She doesn’t know yet, so don’t say anything. We got them for her for Christmas.”

I smile and try to fake happy for her, but this whole conversation is just making me so, so sad. She hasn’t said anything about being in love. Hasn’t said anything about her connection, not just to Greg, but to Nola. It’s like watching my mother in miniature. It’s like watching myself in a different timeline, one where I didn’t run away down the aisle.

That’s what it would have been like, I realize as we move back into the party at large. Things instead of love. Cold, whispered fights in the shadows of a party over decisions neither of us feel we’ve made but both of us have to stand by. It would have been that same kind of marriage, that same façade of happiness with nothing real beneath it and a consolation prize of Dior.

I might not have anything real right now, no job, no partner, no plan, nothing to show for myself. But at least I get to figure out what comes next on my own terms. That’s worth something, even if it doesn’t look like much.

I drift back toward the drink table, but before I get there, Paul locks eyes with me and my heart sinks. He and his wife, Mary, have been friends with my parents for decades. They were at my wedding. He makes a beeline for me through the crowd and I see Mary and Jackie trailing behind him. Jackie is Mom’s best friend.

I look around for a way out, but they’re too fast. Before I can take a step, I’m surrounded on three sides by curious eyes. Paul is blocking my path forward. Mary and Jackie are on either side. I smile politely, heart pounding.

“Josie!” Paul says, taking my hand and shaking it. “So good to see you! I didn’t know what happened to you after that incident at the wedding. What have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know, just… getting my feet under me,” I say vaguely.

“Have you talked to Preston?” Mary asks.

“Not really⁠—”

“Poor Preston,” Jackie adds. “His family have been so gracious about this whole thing, haven’t they?”

“Um—”

“Such a shame,” Mary says before I can say anything more. “Preston is such a nice man, poor thing was heartbroken. But that’s neither here nor there, what are you doing now, dear?”

“I’m just looking for work,” I say weakly.

“Oh, you poor thing. It must be such a shock to go from worrying about nothing to worrying about everything all over again. Money is such a bear, isn’t it?” Paul nudges me conspiratorially, as if the women wouldn’t understand. Maybe they wouldn’t. Who knows how long it’s been since either of them has held down a job.

“I guess.” I give him a small smile, but I’m getting overwhelmed. I feel like I can’t get enough breath.

“Speaking of shocks, it must have been such a shock to Preston for his wedding to end that way, but he’s handled himself with such class in the end! He hasn’t badmouthed you at all. Are you seeing anyone? I’m sure Preston would mend fences with you if you really wanted to. We could have another wedding by spring!” Jackie’s eyes are glowing and I swear I hear my mother’s influence in her words.

“Of course he hasn’t badmouthed you, dear, but lord, he didn’t know what to tell people, either. Neither did your poor parents, it was so embarrassing for them. I hope you’ve smoothed things over with them?”

“I—”

“Of course she has, Mary, look at where she is! I’m sure she wouldn’t be welcome at the family party if she were on the outs with her family.” Paul winks at me and I feel tiny.

I can feel the pressure of their questions stacking up, the narrative laid out in front of me waiting for me to confirm or correct, and there’s nothing I can do. I’m looking around frantically, trying to find a way to get out of this conversation without causing a scene.

“Well, that’s good, anyway,” Mary says dismissively. “But they’re your parents, of course they’re going to forgive you. Preston’s parents, though, are a completely different story. Have you thought about sending them a gift basket?”

“She doesn’t need to send them anything.”

My heart stops. Emmett’s gruff voice behind me, in this place, defending me against the onslaught of well-meaning curiosity, blows my mind. It can’t be. Can it?

I turn around. There they are, all three of them, in their jeans and flannels and boots in the middle of my parents’ Christmas party, looking right at me.

41

JOSIE

My heart stutters. I can’t believe they’re here, all three of them, looking wildly out of place at this fancy party in their mountain man clothes. Beau in his heavy coat with the collar turned up. Emmett in his dark flannel, his wild beard trimmed just enough that I can tell he tried. Hunter in a red-and-black plaid that I’ve slept in, that I’ve buried my face in, that I can smell from here even though I can’t possibly smell it from here.

They’re real. They’re standing in my parents’ foyer and they’re looking at me like I’m the only person in this room full of people.

I forget how to breathe. I forget how to stand. My knees go soft and I grip the edge of the drink table behind me, my fingers slipping on the tablecloth. The eggnog in my other hand tilts dangerously and I set it down without looking, without caring if it spills. Everything in my peripheral vision has gone blurry and unfocused, like the room is a photograph and they’re the only thing the lens bothered to sharpen.