Page 43 of The Write Off

“The last time I played board games with the Pine Nuts things were broken and blood was spilled. It took Maggie three months to find a rug that goes with the couch she liked. I’m not letting you two destroy them.”

“Okay, first of all, that was eight years ago,” I argue, popping a stuffed olive in my mouth. I’ve claimed what I consider to be the best seat in Maggie and Callum’s upscale condo. From my current spot on the couch, I not only have the perfect view of the living room and everyone in it, but I have unblocked access to the excellent snack selection. “And second of all, that is a highly dramatized version of the events.” My nineteen year old self had misjudged the integrity of the wine glass I was drinking from and I cut myself while hurriedly picking up the shards.

“So all of us have to suffer just because my sister can’t control her rage?”

“Who says I’m even trying?” I glare at him.

Our merry group of five all laugh and go back to our individual conversations. Maggie plants herself next to me on the couch, looking effortlessly chic. She’s wearing a butter yellow shift dress that would make me look like a shapeless banana.

“The place looks great,” I tell her, looking around the open space. I had first come here with Betty and Josh when I visited in November. At that point, the place looked like a modern minimalist’s wet dream.

But Maggie did what she does best and made it feel like the most welcoming place on the planet.

“Thank you.” She grins at floor to ceiling bookshelves and framed family pictures on the walls. The air is filled with the soothing aroma of vanilla and cinnamon, courtesy of scented candles placed around the room. You would think she operated a bakery instead of a homemade soap business. “It makes me happy.”

I look up to catch Callum staring at Maggie with a warm smile. If there’s anything that makes him happy, it’s seeing her happy.

“Did Callum help select the decor?” I ask, knowing full well he knows nothing about interior design.

“He paid for it. That was very helpful.” She giggles. Callum is a very successful entrepreneur who is well on his way to being a self-made billionaire. You’d never know it from his worn band t-shirts and laid back charm. I’m pretty sure he’s had the thread-bare David Bowie shirt he’s wearing since he was Josh’s roommate back in college.

He approaches with a bottle of red wine and offers to top up our drinks. We graciously comply, holding our glasses up for him.

“I heard you were at the hockey game last week, Rill,” he says as he pours a generous amount of pinot noir in my long stem glass. “Sullivan tying the game late in the third and then winning in overtime? That must have been a great game to watch live.”

“It was,” I admit.

“Not to mention the off-ice action,” Betty pipes up from where she and Josh are sitting across from us.

Traitor. I’d told Betty about the kiss the next day when I returned Josh’s jersey, but I’d insisted it didn’t mean anything and begged her not to make a big deal about it. I didn’t mention anything about the movie night, nor have I talked to her about any of the more recent developments.

Maggie arches an elegant eyebrow at me and I sigh knowing I may as well get this over with.

“It wasn’t a big deal. During the game Logan and I ended up on the Kiss Cam.”

“OH MY GOD!” Maggie shrieks jumping up from the couch and running far too quickly for a woman with a full wine glass. She comes back a moment later, phone in hand. “Is there a video online?”

“Probably not,” I say, acting like the entire thing bores me.

There is definitely a video; it’s the greatest eight second clip in existence. I’ve watched it at least thirty times since the game and I feel strongly that it should win a sports highlight award.

“Tell me everything!” Maggie pleads, setting her phone and wine glass down and bouncing on the couch like a little kid begging for a bedtime story.

“It’s not a big deal. The game was great. I ate a lot of nachos. They put us on the Kiss Cam, so we kissed.” I take a long drink from my glass before deciding to continue. “We ended up hanging out again that weekend and Logan asked me to date him, so now, I guess, we’re dating.”

I’m not sure what reaction I was expecting. A chorus of excited squeals and clapping, maybe even some good-natured teasing, but the silence I’m met with instead is deafening. Four pairs of eyes stare at me. No one moves. I register their shocked expressions and wait for someone to say something. My brother gets the honors.

“You’re kidding, right?”

I stare up at him, confused. “Why would I be kidding?”

“Your editor, Rilla? Seriously? Are you actively trying to sabotage your book?” The look he gives me reminds me of the time I took a model airplane he built to school for show and tell and ended up breaking it. It’s a combination of annoyance and disappointment.

“Excuse me?”

“Josh,” Betty says, an edge of warning in her tone.

“Oh come on. You know how you are, Rilla.”

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